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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 3 years

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Could you write a Draco Malfoy x Slytherin !Potter!reader. Y/N and Draco have been dating since first year but haven’t told anyone because people think she might be the only “good slytherin” and to prevent Harry from freaking out they stay quiet till the Quitage World Cup where she goes with Draco and his father and spent the summer with them rather than the weasles . Pansy and Blaise know about Y/N and Draco because the 4 of them became best friends through the years (and reader won’t be only friends with Harry’s friends) . Harry and Y/N get into an argument when they return to Hogwarts the summer of the Triwizard cup and how she’s a traitor (EVEN tho that’s her house) and a disgrace for being with him. So she accepted that and that he hates her so she spends the next year mainly with her house giving the trio the cold shoulder and when the war happened draco and his mother protected her and hid her so Harry was looking for her that time but she was gon so after the war the 4 (Draco Pansy and blasé) walk into the great hall and the golden trio see that Y/N is engaged to Draco and Harry just apologizes and they catch up after all those years.

The Potter Twins

A/n: This has got to be one of the best requests I've ever seen anyone answer. I'm so gratefully you asked me to write it!! Thank you. Also, I did use lines from the book just to make the story work. I could have probably written a whole series so this is very long, I'm sorry. @loxbbg

"Y/n Potter." Professor McGonagall's shrill voice boomed. Just like that, the whole school's attention was on Y/n.

So many students, so much older than her, all focused on her. Probably, she had only just discovered, because of her last name.

The girl and the boy who lived. Apparently, they were famous.

On their 11th birthday, she hadn't expected a giant wizard man to come and whisk the twins away from the horrible Dursleys. But, he was nice and he knew their parents.

Y/n was always treated better than Harry. Aunt Petunia seemed to love her more, even letting her have a big bedroom.

Hagrid, she found out, had taken them shopping and brought them ice cream. While she thought it was all a hallucination when she was able to run through a wall, she knew something strange was happening.

After that, she had met a redhead, Ron. He was dorky but kind to the siblings. And, he seemed to know a lot about the wizarding world.

Y/n took a few tentative steps before sitting on the stool. She was hyperaware of the fact everyone was watching, not able to keep the blush off her cheeks.

The heavy hat was draped onto her head, weighing her down.

"Hmm, the other Potter. You would do good in Gryffindor." The hat whispered to her, making her widen her eyes. She hadn't expected it to talk. It was an object. How could it possibly talk?

Y/n was amazed at the whole thing. It still felt like a dream. The great hall was phenomenal, and she couldn't wait to explore the castle. It was unreal.

Y/n flicked her eyes to her brother. He was already sitting at the Gryffindor table, smiling at her. She hoped she would get to be with him, even though she didn't grasp the house concept. Plus, he was near the other girl, Hermione.

Hermione seemed to know a lot about wizards, and Y/n wanted to be informed. It was like she had finally discovered her missing part.

"I remember your parents. I think you could do just like them." The hat continued. Y/n kept hoping. Hoping she wouldn't go without Harry. The thought of her parents made her heartache, she knew so little about them, but she had heard so much about them in the last few days.

"Slytherin!" The hat roared. Y/n's eyes instantly widened, looking frantically at her brother. How was it possible? The hat had decided she would do good in Gryffindor. She wanted to be with her brother and Ron and Hermione.

Just like that, the hat was off her head. Y/n was speechless as she wandered over to the Slytherin table. Somehow, they all looked mean.

She hadn't noticed who she sat next to until the boy spoke. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He introduced himself, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Y/n Potter." Y/n introduced, despite knowing he already knew.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson." A girl with short black hair interrupted their conversation. "We're going to be sleeping in the same dorm, do you want to be friends?" She asked. A picture of confidence.

Y/n didn't know what to do but nod. "Yeah."

"Now shove off, Parkinson. We're talking." Draco interrupted the girls.

Y/n looked concerned at Pansy, but she didn't look offended at all. "Don't worry. Dracie and I have been friends since we were kids. He doesn't mean it." She reassured the girl, noticing her surprised look. The nickname made Y/n giggle, recognising the look on Draco's face as disgust.

"We're not friends." Draco joked, stoic face. Pansy hit him on the arm.

Y/n liked them already. She could tell they would be good friends. Plus, they filled the gap she was missing, not having Harry next to her.

Harry managed to get a chance to talk to Y/n after the feast. He quickly wrapped her in his arms, comforting his sister.

"I'm sorry we're not in the same house," Y/n told him, feeling guilty.

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's that weird hat's."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Y/n giggled, not feeling like crying anymore. "I don't know what so much of this means." She continued, feeling nervous about the whole situation.

"I know." Harry agreed with a nod. "We'll get through it together. I just want to know more about mum and dad, and it's good if we don't have to stay with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." Y/n nodded to that. They were horrible people. "We should go to our rooms now. It'll be okay." He comforted her.

She gave him another quick hug. "Thanks, Harry." She told him before turning around to walk off.

"Wait, Y/n!" Harry called, she spun back around to face him. "I've heard Malfoy is bad news, be careful." He warned. Y/n nodded, reassuring him she'd be cautious.

She didn't believe it, though, as she skipped off to the common room.

It was only a week into classes when Y/n figured out not everyone at Hogwarts was nicer than the Dursley's. Mainly Professor Snape. For no reason, he seemed to hate Harry. They dissected it later in Hagrid's cottage.

"'S 'cause yeh look like yer mum." Hagrid offered as an explanation. That confused the twins and Ron, who came with them. Hagrid sighed, realising he had to explain it. "Snape loved her, way back, but she married yer dad. He couldn' stand yer dad. Anyway, tha''s all history now. Unfortunately, he's one to hold a grudge. Don' let it bother yeh." He told the children.

Harry just sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'm used to Dudley, anyway." He figured Hogwarts was a lot better than the Dursley's house.

"What about yeh, Y/n, how's Slytherin? They're not pickin' on yeh?" Hagrid asked, switched his attention to the small girl.

"It's alright. I've made lots of friends." Y/n had actually had a rather good week. She'd befriended Pansy and a girl named Daphne. As well as Draco, with who she was very close. That was just in her house. Somehow, she'd managed to sit next to Hermione in a class, Lavender too, and a girl named Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.

"Good." Hagrid nodded. "Yeh best be off now." He told them, taking the last sip of his drink.

The 3 of them nodded, getting up and leaving the cottage.

"You know, we've got our first flying lesson next week?" Ron asked the twins, trying to brighten the mood. He could tell they were both thinking about their parents.

Y/n did know. Draco had talked about it nonstop. He was beyond excited.

Harry nodded as well. "I'm not sure I'm going to be any good." He mentioned, lightly blushing.

"I'm sure you'll both be fine. It is in your blood." Ron told them. Y/n and Harry both looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused about what he meant. However, he didn't elaborate.

Y/n went to watch Harry's first Quidditch practise, despite him telling her not to. He said it was a waste of time when it was just practice. But she was extremely proud of him. She knew their parents would be proud too.

So she hid in the Slytherin bleaches, hoping Harry wouldn't spot her.

It was slightly chilly, the night wind whipping at her skin. That's when she felt the drape on a coat on her shoulder.

Y/n whipped her head around to see who it was, only to be met with the blonde's features. She definitely had a bit of a crush on him. He was cute and the first boy who had ever paid her attention.

Draco took a seat next to her, giving her a smile. "Hi." He whispered.

"Hi, Dray." It was a nickname she had quickly picked up, noticing how it made him blush. "You don't have to sit out here." She assured him.

"I want to," Draco confirmed.

Y/n knew he was jealous. Draco had done nothing but talk about how much he loved Quidditch. And Harry, who he thought was a blood traitor, had gotten all his success. So it was big that he wanted to sit with her.

They watched in silence before Draco spoke. "Did you know Pansy is dating Blaise?" He asked her.

Y/n shook her head rapidly. "I thought she liked you."

Draco stuck his tongue out in disgust. "No, I hope not. I did have a question though..." He trailed off, cheeks heating pink. He was bouncing his knee up and down nervously.

Y/n had never seen him like that. "What is it?" She asked.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Draco asked hesitantly. Y/n immediately nodded, accepting the offer. She had never felt happier and more relieved.

"Of course, Dray." She agreed immediately his face relaxed. Y/n reached over and laced her fingers in his, not concerned about how sweaty his palms were. "We can't tell Harry though." She suddenly realised, remembering her brother's words. Draco had never been kind to any of the Gryffindor's, despite them being her friends.

Draco nodded. "Okay." He accepted. Y/n was very thankful he agreed to her request.

3rd year was the most stressful yet, for Y/n. She and Draco were still secretly dating, much to Blaise and Pansy's surprise. They couldn't believe how long it had lasted. But Y/n and Draco were drawn to each other, as friends and lovers.

Summer break was also difficult for Y/n. Aunt Marge's visit had ruined the twins birthday. On top of that, apparently, a psychotic wizard had escaped. The Dursley's didn't understand what that would mean. But Y/n and Harry saw just what dark magic could do to Ginny Weasly last year. It was devastating and powerful.

Y/n ran away with Harry when he blew up Aunt Marge. Aunt Petunia had started being much meaner to her, the older she got. While Y/n didn't know Lily, she thought it might have been the reason Aunt Petunia started shunning her.

So, she stayed at the leaky cauldron with Harry. It was the first time she felt happy to not have parents, there were no rules.

Y/n was hiding something. All the letter her owl, Edwige, was bringing her. All from Draco. She figured Harry was too tied up in his own life to think anything was odd. He probably assumed it was Hermione.

The whole train ride all Harry, Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about was terrifying Sirius Black who was trying to murder the twins.

The train's sudden stop frightened Y/n. As the compartment grew cold, she thought it was Sirius, there to kill them. When the Dementor's bony fingers slide open the door, her heart raced, almost beating out of her chest.

This was it. She was going to die from a faceless ghost. It started to suck the life out of Harry and she froze, not knowing how to help her brother.

Thankfully, the cloaked figure in the corner sprung up, scaring the spirit away.

Y/n rushed to get to Harry, but he had already fainted. He was dazed and confused when he woke, Lupin, as Y/n had come to known, handing him some chocolate.

Once Lupin had re-explained what happened, to Harry, he left.

The Potter twins connection let Y/n feel the fear Harry was in, despite being the braver.

Y/n was more than happy to get off the train, being able to sit next to her boyfriend. The Gryffindor table couldn't see them, so they were free to subtly hold hands.

It didn't feel the same that year. Draco was much darker and meaner. He was mean to Hermione and Hagrid, two of Y/n's companions. She didn't understand it.

Their relationship issues came to a head on the date of Buckbeaks execution. Draco and Y/n didn't agree on the situation but it got worse as she roamed the castle with Harry, Hermione and Ron.

As soon as Y/n saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle hiding behind that rock she knew today was going to be her breaking point. She didn't understand why he couldn't just shut his mouth and not say anything.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he’s supposed to be our teacher!" The look on his face was pure disgust. His eyes flicked up to meet Y/n's, not back down from the remarks he'd made as she stared him down.

It was then she realised it. He cared more about maintaining his arrogant reputation than he did his own girlfriend. The thought broke her heart.

Harry and Ron both marched to him, with Hermione one step ahead. Y/n awkwardly stood there, not knowing how to come between her secret boyfriend and friends.

Hermione got to him first, landing a solid punch to his nose. It was as hard as she could, landing a solid sound.

Draco stumbled back, Crabbe and Goyle rushing to hold him up. He gave Y/n a final look as he ran past her.

Y/n's eyes were already filling with tears. Hermione noticed. "Are you alright?" She asked.

She quickly thought up a lie. "I'm sorry... It's just all of this with Buckbeard is difficult. Can you tell Hagrid I'm really sorry?" She stuttered out, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

They all brought the lie, Harry wrapping her in a hug before they walked off. She stood there and cried for a few minutes, all alone. Like no one in the world cared about her.

It quickly turned to anger, her blood boiling. She stormed off to the Slytherin common room, knowing Draco was too proud to go to the hospital wing.

She found him there, on the couch, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

"I can't believe Granger," Draco exclaimed, not noticing Y/n. "She's a filthy mudblood I could easily get expelled."

"Tell your father." Goyle prompted. Crabbe and Goyle were the best henchmen, dumb and wanting to cause trouble.

"Goyle, Crabbe, I need to speak to Malfoy," Y/n announced. They didn't understand what she meant. "Alone." They finally understood, scurrying out of the room.

Draco didn't look concerned, his eyes challenging her. "What do you want? Hanging out with your idiot twin, that poor, blood traitor Weaslbee and mudblood Granger." He was just as pissed as Y/n was. Maybe, it was the anger for Granger he was taking out on Y/n.

She couldn't hide it anymore. "We're done." She told him. "I cannot be with you when you hate everyone that loves me."

"Fine." Draco shrugged. "I don't care."

That was the last thing Y/n heard from him as she stormed to her dorm room, a sobbing mess. Pansy quickly wrapped her in a hug, not needing to know what happened.

It was the end of term before Y/n even looked in Draco's direction again. She spent all those nights silently sobbing. The slight silver lining was she had gotten much closer to Harry, Hermione and Ron, no longer spending hours with Draco.

He'd trapped her when she was alone in the bleachers, just like he did on their first week.

He didn't place a jacket on her, rather some sunglasses. "Hi." He murmured, hesitantly sitting next to her. Draco was sure Y/n hated him.

"Hey." She replied. The truth was, she missed him. Draco was a part of her, they had grown up in love. They were never meant to fall out of it.

"Enjoying your last day?" Draco asked awkwardly. They felt like they were back in their first year, acting self-consciously.

She nodded, not interested in his small talk. "Yeah, I'm all packed as well." She still refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry." It came tumbling out like he didn't know how to say it. That made her turn her attention to him.

Y/n couldn't help but love him. She never wanted to break up, ever. "Me too." She replied.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. He just looked so precious.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Draco asked, the question was phrased differently this time but it still reminded her of the shy first year.

"Yes." Y/n agreed. She had never known heartbreak like being without Draco.

"Also... I want it to be real this time." That made Y/n worry. She didn't want Harry to find out yet. There was no one Harry hated more. "Will you stay with us these holidays? And come to the Quidditch World Cup?" He asked shyly. That was the bashful boy she adored.

So far, Y/n's plans were to go to the Durley's. She'd just lie to them and say she was staying with Pansy. They wouldn't care because they didn't love her.

'Yes." Y/n told him. "I'm terrified to meet your parents." She admitted.

Draco took her hand in his. "Love, you have nothing to worry about." He assured her. In truth, he also had doubts about his father. Y/n was a Potter.

Once they left the bleachers, Y/n went to see Harry. The trio was in the courtyard.

"Oh Y/n, we were looking for you." Ron pipped up as she took a seat next to them. She tried to not blush too much. "Do you want to come to the Quidditch World Cup with us?" He asked. Uh oh.

"I'm really sorry. I told Pansy I'd go with her family." Y/n lied once again. She felt terrible doing it but she had to. Plus, they weren't going to find out.

"That's fine. Are staying with her the whole summer?" Harry asked. Y/n hated to have to nod. She knew they were keeping a brave face on but they were disappointed.

Y/n's lie worked. She made it to out of the station with Draco without anyone seeing.

They got in the car and, from there, they travelled to the manor. It was fabulous. Better than she could ever imagine. Pointed towers and perfectly done gardens, she was in another world.

"Hey, it'll be okay," Draco assured her, taking his hand in hers as they made it to the door. She had already met their house-elf, who carried the bags.

Draco knocked on the door, trying to seem brave. Narcissa swung it open, arms wide open to pull Draco in. Y/n admired how close they were. She had seen Narcissa once before when she came to see Draco. They weren't introduced but Y/n admired how elegant she looked.

"Y/n Potter, right?" Narcissa asked once she had let her boy go.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Y/n politely said.

Narcissa giggled, shaking her head. "Don't be silly, you can call me Narcissa." She said before opening her arms up for the girl. She hugged for just as long as she hugged Draco, making Y/n feel very comfortable.

Lucius walked over, making Y/n's heart race.

"Draco." He greeted his son with a handshake, much less warm than his mother.

Then he turned to Y/n, staring down his nose at her. She had never felt as small. "You must be Y/n Potter?" He held out his hand.

"Yes, sir," Y/n replied, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Lucius just scowled. Narcissa interrupted the tension. "Come, kids, we can talk in the living room." Just like that, she was part of the family.

The Malfoy tent at the Quidditch world cup was impressive. It was grand and dark like the manor.

Her summer with Draco was the best of her life, not that the others were much to compare to. Narcissa was the kindest woman she'd ever know. When she realised Y/n's birthday was the 31st of July, she insisted on throwing a large party.

She let Y/n pick out all the decorations, taking her on a shopping spree to Diagon Alley. Then, they had a spa day and afternoon tea party with Pansy and Daphne and some of Narcissa's friends. As much as she wanted to, Y/n figured it wasn't right to invite Hermione and Ginny.

That night, they had dinner out with the girls, Draco, Theo and Blaise. It was the best day of her life. It only got better when a massive cake was wheeled out, and a cart for of gifts. She was sure it was more than Dudley had ever gotten.

Draco's was the most special. It was a necklace, a traditional Black family one. On it was their initials.

Y/n made sure to stay in contact with Harry, but things had started to slip. She figured he was just busy but she missed him, and their other friends.

It was difficult for Y/n to get along with Lucius, knowing how close he was to Voldemort, the man who was trying to kill her. Somehow, they just didn't talk about it.

"Are you ready to go?" Draco asked, adjusting his black blazer. She couldn't believe how good he looked, a full black suit. His blonde hair parted in the middle. He had grown into his looks majorly over the summer.

"Yeah." Y/n nodded, putting her last earing in. They were a gift from Narcissa, real emeralds. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach she was trying to shake off as anticipation.

"Okay, Mum has already gone to our box. We're going in with my Father." He told her, walking over to grab her hand. Physical contact was something the couple had gotten used to. It was no longer awkward.

Y/n took his hand, lacing their fingers as they walked out of the tent. Draco was taller than her now, he hadn't been in first year. His slim thumb traced over her knuckles mindlessly.

Lucius didn't seem to mind the two of them being so close. The sky had darkened, and the crowds were already cheering. While Y/n had never been to a muggle sports game, she thought this was better. It was noisy but spectacular.

Draco and Y/n talked as they walked, him occasionally bumping into her shoulder. It always made her giggle.

When she heard Lucius' cruel voice, she looked back at him. He was looking up. Y/n followed his eye line. The Weasley's. Hermione. Harry.

Her brain stopped working, and she froze. The look on Harry's face was pure fury. He was looking between her and Draco rapidly, but it was obvious. They were holding hands, and they had just been giggling together.

Those smiles were long gone. The atmosphere had immediately blackened.

Lucius' threat to Harry made her wince. Harry didn't even look bothered, just furious at her. Betrayed. It physically hurt her, and she gripped Draco's hand.

The Weasley group turned to walk off so did Lucius. Draco pulled Y/n closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry. It'll be okay. Harry will calm down." Draco told her. She just hoped it was true. Harry didn't like to be deceived, and she had lied so much. Plus, Draco was never nice to Harry, Hermione and Ron. They probably hated her by association. "My father really shouldn't have said that." He grimaced. That's made her confident in her decision. Draco had changed.

Y/n nodded, trying to choke back the tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Draco stopped in the middle of the bridge. He took her face in his hands. "Hey, I love you." He reminded her before leaning down to kiss her. It was soft and filled her back up with warmth, making the chilling look Harry had sent her go away. She just hoped Harry still loved her.

Y/n tried to put Harry in the back of her mind the rest of the break. She did write him a few letters, but he didn't reply.

Harry was too busy to talk to Y/n on the first day of school. She hoped Hermione and Ron weren't giving her the cold shoulder, but they did.

So she spent the welcome feast with Pansy and Daphne. And, of course, her boyfriend.

He confronted her on the second day of school.

Y/n was in the courtyard when Draco and Harry had their quarrel. She always knew Draco was short-tempered, but she couldn't believe the things he was saying to Harry about their mother.

Y/n's shock grew when Harry spat back, knocking Narcissa. He didn't know her like she did. Narcissa had been nothing but kind to Y/n. That was when she knew she couldn't let Harry get away with it.

"Harry!" Y/n yelled, his attention flicked to her. His eyes were even more outraged than they were with Draco.

"What do you want, traitor?" Harry demanded, his voice was angry too.

"You can't say those things about Narcissa," Y/n demanded. Now she knew how mad Draco felt. Her jaw was clenched like her fits. "And, I'm not a traitor. I'm a Slytherin, that wasn't my choice."

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed. "You're sickening. Did you not hear what he said about our mother!?" He lectured her. "I don't know how you could be with someone so vile."

"Draco isn't who you think he is." Y/n defended. Draco loved her. He'd never given up on her like Harry had.

"He hates you!" Harry spat. He was closer to her now, towering over her. She had never seen anyone that mad. "You're not a Potter. You don't belong in our family." He said so lowly it made her shiver.

Harry was so close she thought he was going to hit her. That's when Draco jumped in the middle of the twins, pushing Harry back and shielding Y/n.

"Watch it, Potter." Draco threatened, glaring down at Harry. He was only an inch taller.

Harry scoffed, fists clench, ready for a fight. He looked around Draco, at Y/n. "Mum and Dad would have despised you. You're just like all those other awful Slytherins. I don't understand how you could be with someone as low as Malfoy." His words sat deep in her heart, and he didn't stop them from coming. "You're not a Potter." With that, he left, not looking back.

Y/n immediately burst out in tears. She couldn't stop it. Draco spun around to her, holding her so she wouldn't collapse.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay." Draco told her, wrapping her in his arms so tightly. He just held her. "You know they would be proud of you, Y/n. You're so strong and clever." He comforted her, his hands stroking her back.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I'm a Slytherin. They were all brave Gryffindors." She choked out.

"It doesn't matter what house you're in. You're so kind and talented." Draco reassured her. His heart was breaking, seeing his girlfriend in such a bad state. All he wanted to do was stop her from hurting. "I know how important Harry is to you. We can take a break until this all blows over." He reassured her.

Y/n shook her head, clinging to her chest. "No, no, please, Dray." She said as she cried out. "You're the last good thing I have left."

"Baby." He cooed, tracing her cheekbones. "I'll never leave you." He promised.

Draco stayed true to his word. He supported her throughout the whole year. Y/n was always worried for Harry. Despite the shunning, he inflicted on her.

It didn't stop with Harry. Y/n lost half of her friends that day. Hermione, the Weasley's and most muggle-borns refused to talk to her. She was always so kind that it troubled her.

Draco took her to the Yule ball, naturally. She saw Harry that night. They even made eye contact, but he didn't comment on her forest green dress. It matched her eyes perfectly, though, and Harry couldn't stop thinking about one photo of his mother he'd seen. They looked so similar.

She spent the Christmas break at the Malfoy's, receiving a sweater from Molly Weasley. That meant the world to her, despite none of them speaking to her.

When they got back to Hogwarts, Y/n figured out how irrelevant she was to Harry. Ron was the one that was taken for the second task. Everyone noticed. Not his own twin, his friend.

Y/n still remained close with Sirius. They wrote letters to each other throughout the year. He knew how worried she was about Harry.

The truth was, Sirius felt bad, James and Lily were his best friends and he knew they'd be disappointed to see the twins split up. Sirius was also worried for Y/n, he knew what it was like being part of the Black family.

He had hatched a few plans to get them to talk, but none worked. Not due to Y/n's lack of trying.

The third task was the worst thing Y/n had been through at Hogwarts. She could feel something bad was happening to Harry. When he came back through the portkey, she saw it. And it was distressing.

Voldermort was reborn, whether everyone believed it or not. Y/n could feel it was true.

5th year was exciting.

Y/n celebrated her 15th birthday before it started. This time, they had dinner with her friends. She didn't write to Harry.

Sirius sent her gifts, and he was starting to ask whether Narcissa was okay.

Just after her birthday, in August, Draco Malfoy and Y/n Potter were made prefects. They both read the letters at the breakfast table.

Narcissa was overjoyed for both of them.

At 11am, on the 1st of September, they got on the train to Hogwarts.

The rest of that year went on normally, apart from Umbridge's rules.

Christmas break was a sign that a darker power was brewing. Y/n heard the whispers under the door and she assumed the other side of the war also had meetings.

Y/n was shocked when Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban. After the Umbridge drama died down, they had to sit their O.W.L.s. That was rough.

One terrible day of June was Sirius' last. Y/n cried in Draco's arms for days over the death. She always thought Sirius was the only person who was going to be able to reunite the twins. And now he was gone.

Y/n knew something was very wrong during the summer. Draco told her he was a death eater. They cried about it together all night. The weeks following were stressful, and they weren't even back at Hogwarts. The war had started.

Draco and Narcissa kept Y/n hidden from Lucius' guests. O.W.L results were the first good thing that summer.

Y/n's 16th birthday was smaller than her last. Y/n, Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo were all hyperaware of the dementor attacks.

That weekend, they visited Diagon Alley with Narcissa. Y/n was at Draco's side the whole time, unfortunately, that meant she had a run-in with Harry and the Weasleys. It was awkward, to say the least. Her own twin still wouldn't acknowledge her.

Draco's task started at the beginning of the year. Y/n was the only one who knew about it, besides Snape.

Then Christmas, with even more death eater meetings. Y/n barely saw Draco. Narcissa had made her promise to take care of him, but it was difficult to get him to eat.

Draco continued his task during the second semester. Y/n knew that Harry knew about Draco. Their twin insight gave him the power to just know things.

It was getting difficult between Y/n and Draco. They didn't talk as honestly as they used to. He wanted to protect her. And she knew he needed to open up.

One day in May, Y/n rushed to see Draco in the hospital wing, concerned about how he could have gotten there. Did something go wrong with the vanishing cabinet?

"Draco!" She cried as she saw him lying on a hospital bed looking pale.

Draco waved at her, a little smile on his face.

"Potter." Snape hissed, looking down at the girl. Y/n didn't care he was there as she wrapped her arms around Draco. Snape was nicer to Y/n this year, which she didn't understand.

From a photo Sirius had given her, she knew she looked more like Lily than ever. She always kept the picture near her. It was the Potter parents holding up their twins, smiling.

"He's fine," Snape told her. "As for your brother, he's going to be in huge trouble." He continued before walking out of the hospital wing.

"What happened?" Y/n demanded, holding Draco's face in her hands. His cheekbones were more prominent now, and his eyes were more overcast.

Draco playfully huffed. "I was, uh, in the bathroom. Potter came in and used the bloody Sectumsempra spell on me." He complained, his eyes now angrier. She couldn't believe Harry would do something like that. But, then again, she didn't really know him.

Y/n noticed the way his voice faded when he talked about where he was. "Why were you in the bathroom?" She knew him well enough to push for an answer."

"Uh, talking." Draco offered an explanation. It wasn't good enough for Y/n to accept.

"To who?" She asked.

Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. He finally gave in. "Fine, I was crying to Moaning Myrtle." He admitted. His cheeks were pink with blush and he looked guilty.

"Dray." Y/n cooed, reaching down to hold his hand. "You can talk to me about anything you need to, any time." She assured him.

Draco nodded, thankfully. "He's going to get detention for the rest of the year." He told her, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Narcissa was one of the last people Y/n expected to see walk into the Hospital Wing. She was in a black pantsuit.

"Mother." Draco greeted her, trying to move in the bed to get up.

"Stay put, you," Narcissa told him with a smile. She walked right over and hugged Y/n. "Are you okay?" She asked. Y/n just nodded. She knew a storm was brewing, but nothing had happened yet. It was only a matter of time. Then she turned to Draco. "Are you?" She asked him.

Draco already had a witty reply, clearly feeling like himself again. "Aside from my own mother preferring my girlfriend to me." He complained, a faux pout on his face.

Narcissa just rolled her eyes, like mother like son. "I can't help it. You get into too much trouble." She told him with a pointed look.

Draco scoffed. "Wasn't my fault." He complained quietly. The girls just gave him a look he knew too well. "Honestly, what are you doing here?" He asked. When Narcissa widened her eyes, he followed the question up with a statement. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you."

"I've actually come for Y/n." She explained.

Both Y/n and Draco looked at her in shock. "What? Why?" Y/n asked, most concerned.

Narcissa looked to Draco who sighed out an 'oh' and then back to Y/n before speaking. "You know about the cabinet." Y/n nodded. "They need it. The Death Eaters. To get into Hogwarts." That made Y/n worry. They weren't coming in to have dinner.

"You don't know this." Draco started, making Y/n's attention turn to him. "My task is to kill Dumbledore." Y/n's mouth gawked open. She could feel her hands shaking. More than anything, she couldn't believe someone would make a kid do that.

Narcissa grimaced. "It's all about to start." Y/n didn't need to ask what 'it' was. "So I'm taking Y/n away." She told them.

"Wait... for how long?" Draco asked quickly, gripping her hand.

"Draco, you sit in those meetings," Narcissa told him. "You know the plan is for them to take over the Ministry of Magic and persecute muggle-borns." That made Y/n wince. "It's not safe for Y/n to stay at Hogwarts, don't be silly about this." She strictly told him.

Draco sighed but nodded. He knew Narcissa was always right. "Can I still see her?" He asked, now thinking rationally. Y/n didn't like that she didn't have any say in the matter.

"Yes." At least there was that. "No one is going to know where she is apart from Lucius, you and I," Narcissa told them.

"Do I get any say in this?" Y/n finally spat out.

Narcissa turned her attention to Y/n with a pleading look. "You know we have to."

"I've still got a month of school left," Y/n argued.

"I know and I'm sorry we have to do this." Narcissa apologised. "It's all going to happen next month."

"Can't I stay until then?" Y/n asked.

Narcissa shook her head. "I promise you, if I thought you could, I would let you. You're a big part of what you-know-who wants, Harry more, but you must stay far away from this." She told her.

Y/n couldn't not agree. "Alright. We're leaving now?" She asked.

"Yes," Narcissa told her. "All of your things have been packed. Draco can come and see you once it's over." She promised.

Draco wrapped his arms around Y/n as he kissed her. It was one of the things she knew she was going to miss. She also knew it was time to go.

"Bye, I love you," Draco told her, waving from his hospital bed.

"I love you too," Y/n replied before walking out of the wing with Narcissa.

From there, they went out a secret passage, making sure no one saw. Professor Snape knew Y/n had to go, so he was coming up with the cover story.

Narcissa and Y/n finally reached a Slytherin scarf, which took them to a house she'd never been to. "Where are we?" Y/n asked, still holding on to the portkey.

"The South of England," Narcissa told her, making her brows furrow and eyes widen. "It's an old Black family house." She explained, opening the door. It was just as grand as the Manor, smaller, though.

Inside it looked just as gorgeous. All the decor was French country vintage. It screamed old money.

"It's beautiful," Y/n told Narcissa, having a look around the inside. There was so much light streaming into the room with wooden details.

"I'll make some tea. Your room is on the second floor, first door." Narcissa told her. Y/n nodded, walking up the stairs to find the room. It was decorated like royalty belonged there. There was a massive window that looked right out onto the coast.

It was then she realised the house was on a cliff. Y/n hadn't seen it from the angle the entryway was at. But it was spectacular. Lonely.

Y/n could spend her whole life there. She set her bags down and strolled around the room. It was smaller than Draco's was, at the manor. But it was much lighter. Almost the complete opposite of the Malfoy family home.

Once she had finished looking around, she went back downstairs to see Narcissa setting tea up on the coffee table. When she walked into the living room she saw the massive windows, showing the ocean.

"Sit," Narcissa commanded and Y/n did so right away. She poured tea for both of them before also sitting down. They sat in silence for a while, Y/n not knowing what to say. "I can tell you have questions." Narcissa prompted.

"Why is Snape protecting Draco and I?" Y/n asked quickly.

Narcissa sighed before answering. "Do you know what an Unbreakable Vow is?" She asked, and Y/n nodded. "Severus and I made one. He vowed to watch over Draco." Y/n nodded again. That vow must have expended to Y/n.

Y/n suddenly had more questions. "You need a Bonder, right?"

"Yes, Bellatrix was ours," Narcissa replied. Y/n was familiar with Draco's strange aunt. They had never met, out of Bellatrix's loyalty to Voldermort.

"Are you going to stay here with me?" She asked, concerned about being alone.

Narcissa shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can only be here sometimes. The story is you ran away, and no one knows where you are, so I can't be here too much." Y/n didn't know that before. Everyone was going to think she'd left by choice. Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theo. Harry, if he cared. She knew none of them were going to be able to know why she was gone.

"Am I safe here?" Y/n asked, now worrying about how she would be safe alone. The tea they were sipping seemed to calm her down.

"Yes, there are charms on the house so no one can get in. But, I'm also giving you this." Narcissa stopped what she was saying and pulled out a necklace. It was a heart-shaped gold locket. Narcissa placed it in her hand. Y/n looked at it. That's when she noticed the initials on it. Draco's and hers.

Y/n thanked her. "That's not it. If you open it like this." Narcissa instructed, opening the heart. Y/n noticed the emerald gemstone. "This stone is a portkey, right to the Manor." So Y/n would be able to get back to the Manor.

"I can't thank you enough, and I don't want to intrude, but I do have a personal question." Y/n was hesitant about what she was going to ask. But she needed to know. "You said before, in the hospital wing, that Mr Malfoy knew where I was staying. And I have a lot of respect for him, so I don't want this to come off badly." Y/n could tell she was rambling. Narcissa could as well, she slid a hand onto Y/n's to calm her down. "Why is it safe for him to know? He's you-know-who's number 2. Eventually, he's going to want me dead." It broke Y/n's heart, she knew it was going to ruin Draco's life. But, his father was going to have to kill her.

"Slow down." Narcissa smiled softly. That comforted Y/n a little. "Do you remember when we met, the summer before the World Cup?" She asked. Y/n nodded in agreement, not sure where it was going. "The night we met you, I knew. I knew Draco was in love with you. And, I knew Voldermort was going to come back and try to kill the Potter twins." Y/n's heart started to race at the mention of her parents' death. "I made Lucius make an unbreakable vow. Snape was the Bonder." Oh, it made sense. Lucius couldn't hurt Y/n, Narcissa had protected her.

She just didn't understand why so she asked. "Why? I mean, I appreciate it more than anything. But you risked your whole marriage." It was true, and Narcissa knew that.

"I've never thought you or Harry should be persecuted. My parents raised me as pureblood supremacists, but killing is wrong." Narcissa told her. Y/n was thankful for her honesty. She filled the place Lily had left, and Petunia hadn't tried to fill. "I love Draco, more than anything in the world. The only thing I've ever wanted is to see him happy. I knew he was happy with you." Y/n understood Narcissa's unconditional love for Draco, she felt the same.

"He's lucky to have you," Y/n mentioned, trying not to think about her parents.

"I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I'm very sorry about your parents," Narcissa told her. Y/n could feel the tears in her eyes.

She let a few of them fall. "Did you, uh, know them?"

"My last two years at Hogwarts, they were there. James was only 11 but he was loud and brave. He would even stand up to me with Sirius." Hearing both their names made Y/n cry more. She was crying for the dad she never knew, and the uncle she only had for a short time. "I noticed you at Hogwarts, I think during second year, and I had deja vu. You looked so similar to Lily. She always wore her hair just like you did." Y/n remembered seeing Narcissa but she didn't remember Narcissa seeing her.

"Would they be disappointed in me?" Y/n couldn't help but ask. Narcissa felt her pain, running deep. She immediately wrapped the girl in a hug, letting her cry.

"No, never for a moment." She confirmed. "I know it's not the same, but I'm proud of you." It wasn't the same, but it meant just as much.

"Thank you." Y/n thanked her again.

"No thanks are necessary. I should go back though." Narcissa stated, looking at her watch.

Y/n nodded, gently opening the necklace so she wouldn't touch the emerald. Narcissa held it, and just like that, she was gone.

Y/n found a good amount of things to do. There were movies and music. She still had some of her textbooks. Plus, exploring the house was fun.

But she did miss Draco. And the rest of her friends. Instead of using an owl, she decided to send letters by muggle post to the Malfoy residence, so Narcissa could send them to Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door a couple of weeks after Y/n moved in.

She peaked out the window before seeing a tuff of blonde hair. It was Draco.

Quickly, she swung the door open, embarrassing him in her arms.

Draco hugged her back, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around.

"Dray, I missed you." She cooed, head buried in his shoulder.

"I missed you too, my girl." He replied, pulling her even closer. It was so tight she felt like she couldn't breathe.

When she pulled back, she had a thought. "How did you manage to come? Don't you have classes?"

Draco shook his head. "Quidditch match. It's Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw, so I came here instead." Y/n was very grateful for Quidditch that day.

They only had a few hours before people would notice he was gone. But they baked cookies together while Draco filled her in on everything she'd missed. As well as lots of kissing.

When it came time for him to leave, she was upset. But Draco made her promise not to cry.

Draco came back after the battle of the tower. Y/n knew there was something wrong. He didn't grin as wide when he met her at the beach.

There were already tears forming in his eyes, and it was late.

"Dray, talk to me, baby." Y/n pleaded as they lay together on the couch. It was far past midnight. Y/n was on Draco's chest and they were a tangle of limbs. She had her fingers running through his hair.

Draco sighed. "I couldn't do it." He sobbed out. "I couldn't kill him. Snape had to do it. It was so horrible, Y/n." He continued, tears still falling. "My father was so mad. He cares more about appeasing Voldermort than me." Y/n's heart clenched as she heard his words.

"Draco, he loves you." Y/n tried to reassure him.

Draco tried to accept it, but it was difficult. "I'm scared for what's going to happen." He told her.

"Me too," Y/n admitted. "How's it all going to end?" She asked him.

The truth was Draco didn't know. And she knew that. "They're talking over the Manor." He didn't want to be the one telling her the bad news. "They're going to go after anyone and everyone associated with Muggleborns. I'm not going to get to be here much." He hesitantly admitted.

"You've done what they needed you to do, though!" Y/n exclaimed, feeling outraged.

"I know. I'm not sure what they're going to do with me. Father lectured me and I just came here." Draco explained. It reassured her there might be some hope he could spend the summer there. "It'll be okay, Y/n."

She tried to retain that. "Can you come back on my birthday, at least?" Y/n asked.

"Of course, baby." Draco quickly replied. That brought Y/n some relief.

Draco was busy a lot of the summer. Despite having completed the task he was given, he was still Lucius's son.

He told Y/n all about how the Manor had been taken over by death eaters. It worried her. She also spent a lot of time worried about Harry. He was the only blood connection she had left in the world, and she had no idea where he was.

Draco came back on her birthday like he promised. He had more flowers than she'd ever seen in her life. That wasn't where the gifts ended. Jewellery, new shoes, perfume and a big cake.

Narcissa made it as well for dinner. She even insisted Draco stay the night.

By nighttime, they were lying in bed together. Draco's arms wrapped around her tightly. As usual, she lay against his chest. Draco stroking her hair.

When she looked up at him, she knew something was wrong. After all their years together, she could read him like a book. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. His voice was a slightly higher pitch. Y/n recognised that as a sign he was hiding something.

"I can tell something bothering you," Y/n explained. "Let me in, Dray." She pleaded.

Draco knew he had to. "I have to leave early tomorrow morning."

Y/n knew that wasn't it. "I need the whole truth." Draco groaned, knowing she knew him better than he knew himself.

"I have to go early so I can be at the takeover of the ministry," Draco revealed to her. "They're going after Scrimgeour because he knows where Harry is." Oh. That wasn't good. Either the minister would give up Harry's location, and her twin brother would be killed. Or, the Ministry of Magic would be run by Death Eaters. Either way, their power was growing. Y/n knew Harry only had a matter of time. Then she would be next.

"So, no one knows where Harry is?" Y/n asked hopefully. Even if he hated her, she would rather he was alive.

Draco shook his head. "He's hunting the Horcruxes, I'd guess. Scrimgeour knows and maybe a few members of the Ministry." That made Y/n relieved, although she wasn't sure how good Harry's survival skills were.

"Am I going to be okay?" Y/n asked, fearing the worst.

Draco took a deep breath as he prepared an answer. "I'm never going to let him get to you, I promise. My Father's vow will make sure he can't either. No one else knows you're here." He reassured her. Y/n just hoped it was true, Draco could read that.

"So you're going back to Hogwarts?" Y/n couldn't help but ask.

Draco nodded. "I think Snape is going to be appointed Headmaster. I'll be safe there." That reassured Y/n to no end. He chuckled slightly, a smile on his face. "We were going to be Head boy and girl." He explained. Y/n's face dropped as she tried not to cry. "Hey, hey, hey." Draco noticed. "It's just the way it happened."

"I know." She nodded. "It just could have been the best year ever."

"When this is all over, we're going to have the best year." He assured her. Y/n tried to hang onto that.

It got difficult the further the year dragged on. Y/n barely saw Draco. She did receive letters about how horrible things had gotten. Hogwarts was gloomier, no one could find Harry, Snape's regime was intense. Y/n was thankful she was away from the whole mess.

Just before Christmas, she found out Luna Lovegood had been kidnapped. Draco had started to detest the cause he was fighting for. He never said so, but she could infer it from what he wrote.

In March, she discovered Harry had been captured. Draco was the one who had to identify him, and he felt horrible about it. He cried on her shoulder, begging her to forgive him when he came to see her. Y/n was never mad at Draco. She was smart enough to know he had to do it. And, deep down, she could feel that Harry was okay.

Draco was in a worse state when they escaped. Not because he wanted Harry to be killed. Because his own aunt had murdered Dobby. While he was taught to hate the house-elves, Dobby was almost his younger sibling.

All Draco could feel was split, unsure of what to do.

Draco told her it was all going to happen on May 1st. The battle of Hogwarts. Y/n spent the whole day riddled with anxiety. She spent a whole 3 days wide awake, waiting for news.

She felt a cursing pain through her head at some point on the 2nd of May. Then the visions started, of Harry and Dumbledore at a train station. She realised she was seeing inside Harry's vision. When he made the choice to return to his body, Y/n knew everything would be alright.

Y/n anxious sat on the couch until 3 people appeared. It was only the early hours of the morning. She immediately ran to Draco wrapping her arms around him. He was unkempt, and his hair was a mess. He hugged her back, pulling her into his chest. She had never seen him looking as disturbed.

"What happened?" Y/n asked, turning to give Narcissa a hug. Much to her surprise, Lucius shook her hand. It was the first time they'd ever done something like that.

"We left," Lucius told her. That was also the first time he'd ever properly talked to her. She didn't understand.

They explained it all to her. How Harry sacrificed himself, how he died, more importantly how Narcissa discovered he was alive. Y/n hung on every word as Narcissa told her how she had lied to Voldermort. She also told Y/n Harry asked if she was still alive. Harry still cared about her.

By that point Draco, Narcissa and Y/n were all crying.

The sun had just started rising when Y/n realised it.

Suddenly, she had a massive headache. The kind she knew Harry used to have. And she knew what it meant.

"Voldermort's dead," Y/n announced, causing all of their eyes to widen. "I just know. I can feel it. Harry killed him." She felt more connected to Harry than she had in years, but she knew.

There were no words any of them said as they hugged. She could feel her head beating rapidly, the same as Draco's.

"Who died?" Y/n finally asked the question she was terrified to ask. Harry was the only one she knew was alive from the good side.

"Bellatrix." Narcissa sobbed out, Lucius immediately pulling her into a hug. It was one of the first times Y/n had seen them acting so intimately.

Draco continued giving Y/n the list. Every second felt like an hour as she hoped none of her friends died. "Fred Weasley." She could only think about the heartbreak that would have caused her brother and his friends. "Snape too." Draco let a few tears fall and Y/n rushed to wipe them. "Lupin and Tonks." Lupin was the last person alive who really knew her parents. Now her chances of knowing about them were over. "There were a lot of others too but everyone else we are close to is okay."

"Good." Y/n nodded before wrapping him in a hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Both couples holding each other, all feeling extremely grateful.

"We should go back home," Narcissa told them, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We'll have breakfast." She promised.

Draco enthusiastically nodded. "I'm starving." He mentioned.

Narcissa reached out to grab his hand. "You haven't eaten in days."

Y/n quickly turned her attention to Draco. "Dray." She told him, hitting his arm. "You can't do that."

"I won't, ever again." He promised, his hand wrapping around her waist. "As long as you're there to cook for me." He cheekily quipped, looking at Y/n with a grin. It was the first one she had seen in a while.

Narcissa and Lucius both laughed at the younger couple who reminded them of themselves. "You're dreaming," Y/n replied, bumping into his shoulder. Y/n opened her necklace.

Narcissa, Draco, Lucius and Y/n all touched the emerald. Just like that, they arrived in the Manor living room. It was like Y/n remembered, still as dark. She did feel better about being there, knowing no death eaters were trying to kill her brother.

Over pancakes, they laughed and talked. The world finally felt peaceful again. It was the first time Y/n had been happy in weeks.

An owl knocked at the window, around midday and Y/n took the two letters out of its mouth.

"Dray." She told him, handing his one over to him. "It's from Hogwarts." She told Narcissa and Lucius. They both opened their letters and read them. "In June, they're having an end of year feast," Y/n explained.

"So, we've got a month off school?" Draco looked thrilled by the news.

Narcissa chuckled. "What does it say about your exams?" She asked.

Draco read further down. "Mine says my grades from last year will be considered my grades for this year and I can become an Aurora. Or I can go back to Hogwarts." There was hopefulness in his voice Y/n had missed.

"Draco!" Narcissa cheered, jumping up to hug him. "Congratulations."

"Mine says the same." Y/n realised. "But how is that possible?" She asked, looking at Narcissa.

"I'm not sure." The woman replied, looking just as confused.

"I may have a few words with the acting Ministry when Voldermort was in charge," Lucius reported. All 3 of them were shocked by the confession.

Y/n was overcome with appreciation. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, Lucius is fine." That surprised Y/n but it was nice to hear he might not have hated her as much as she thought. It was the first time Y/n had seen a smile on his face. "What are you two planning on doing with your time off?" He asked the younger couple.

Draco and Y/n met each other's eyes, they hadn't thought about it. "What are we meant to do?" Draco asked.

"The house on the cliff is empty, if you want to spend more time there, Y/n," Narcissa mentioned. Draco grinned widely, nodding his head. He accepted the offer. "Slow down, Y/n?" Narcissa asked, turning her attention to Y/n.

"Yes, I'd love to. Thank you." Y/n affirmed her boyfriend's acceptance.

"When can we go?" Draco asked.

Lucius chuckled. "You don't want to spend time with your parents, son?" He joked. Another first. "You're going of age now, Draco. Y/n too. I think you've both earned the privilege of being treated like adults." He told them.

"You have to be back for your birthday, Draco. We're going to throw a party." Narcissa instructed, raising her eyebrows at him.

"So I'm not an adult?" Draco quipped back.

Narcissa turned to Y/n. "Will you make sure he comes back?" Y/n nodded. "Then you are both free to leave after I get a hug." She informed them, opening her arms up. Draco hugged her first, standing much taller than her.

Then he left to get his stuff. Lucius followed him up the stairs. Y/n walked over to Narcissa, embracing her.

"Thank you, for everything." Y/n mentioned in her arms.

"It's never a problem, sweetness," Narcissa replied, kissing the girl on the forehead.

Y/n and Draco took a different portkey to the house. Both of them were buzzing to have a month together after being apart for so long. They finally felt free and independent.

For a few weeks, they just hung out, reacquainting with each other. They spent time in London, seeing muggle sights and shopping. As well as the small, nearby muggle town. It had the cutest cafe.

Draco and Y/n also hung out with Pansy, Theo and Blaise again. They were all thrilled to see her. She explained the whole situation to them and they completely understood.

Between them, it was like no time was lost.

One summer evening, Draco had insisted on cooking Y/n dinner. He explained it was a date. She was to dress up nice like they were going out. Draco was in a full black suit, matching Y/n's sparkling black dress.

He even set the outdoor table, making Y/n sit there and wait for him to bring out dinner.

It was a pasta dish. The same one Narcissa had made the first time Y/n met the Malfoy family.

"Thank you, Dray," Y/n said as they sat, looking out at the view. The sun was just setting and the whole sky was painted pinks and oranges. In the distance, there was the sound of waves breaking on the cliff.

Draco looked nervous, she hadn't seen him like that for a long time. "Uh, I had a question for you." He stuttered out, cheeks turning pink.

Y/n sent him a soft smile, trying to help him calm down. His nerves were worrying her. What could he possibly ask her? Y/n knew exactly what was about to happen when Draco slid off his chair and down onto one knee. Her hands immediately came over her mouth. Tears were already pricking her eyes. He reached into his back pocket, producing a green velvet box.

"I've, uh, I've thought about doing this for a really long time. When we first met I knew you were the one who was always going to hold a special part of my heart. It was everything about you. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you." Y/n was full-on sobbing at Draco's words. They were the sweetest thing anyone had ever said. "I knew from when I met you that I'd always love you. But I had no idea you'd bear to be around me for long enough. I was kind of insufferable." Y/n and Draco both chuckled. "I'm so grateful I even got the chance to know someone as clever, kind, funny and ambitious as you. Once I'd asked you out, I knew I needed you to be mine forever." Draco let a few tears out, stopping to wipe them. "I've done a lot of stupid things, hurt a lot of people and you're far too good for me, I know that. But, I swear, I'm going to spend every day making it up however I can. I'm going to spend every day making it up to you too. If you let me. I think I knew you before I understood myself. You truly are my best friend and the most important person to me in the world." Neither of them could stop the uncontrollable tears they let out. "So, uh, I've got to ask now. Y/n Potter, will you do me the honours of marrying me?" Draco opened the ring box, revealing a huge diamond ring. It looked vintage and the prettiest thing Y/n had ever seen.

Y/n wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks, leaning down to do that same to Draco. "Yes, Draco. A million times yes." He was grinning as wide as she'd ever seen as he slipped the ring on her finger.

He stood up, holding her face in his hands. "I love you." He told her, leaning down to kiss her gently.

"I love you too," Y/n replied, eyes closed with her forehead intimately pressed against Draco's. When she moved her eyes she looked down at the ring. "It's so beautiful, Dray."

Draco nodded before explaining the story. "It's, um, a Black family heirloom. If Mum, Aunt Bella or Aunt Andromeda were boys, they would have gotten it. Luckily for me, it skipped a generation."

"It's stunning." Y/n leant back up to place a kiss on his lips. "Now, what have you cooked for dessert?" She asked, giggling lightly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Your favourite, of course, but only because you said yes." He revelled.

Y/n woke Draco up on his birthday with an assortment of gifts. After they ate breakfast and unwrapped presents, they went to the Manor.

Y/n knocked on the door happily. Draco's left hand entwined with her right one. Narcissa swung it open and embarrassed Y/n in an enthusiastic hug. She quickly grabbed Y/n's left hand, looking at the ring.

"I knew it would look perfect on you," Narcissa mentioned, tracing over the ring. Y/n grinned at her.

"It is perfect," Y/n said, grinning at Draco.

"You're perfect." Draco simply replied. Narcissa chuckled at the two of them. "Can I have my hug?" He asked Narcissa.

Narcissa dropped Y/n's hand hesitantly to pull him in. "18 but you're still acting like a petulant child." She joked making Draco pull a face of mock offence. "Happy birthday, Draco."

"Are you keeping them in here, Sissy?" Lucius asked, walking around the corner. Narcissa rolled her eyes at him. "Happy birthday, son." He said, wrapping Draco in a hug. "Y/n." Lucius turned to her.

"Mr Malfoy." Y/n greeted. She thought she was in trouble when he raised his eyebrows and shot her a pointed look. The smile on his lips assured her she wasn't about to be told off. "Lucius." She corrected herself.

Y/n held out a hand to shake his but he shook his head, opening his arms. "You're my future daughter-in-law, come here." He insisted, and Y/n hugged him, trying to avoid showing her shock.

After they had lunch and Draco opened more presents, Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, other friends and several Malfoy and Black family members came over. It was a phenomenal party.

Pansy raced right over to Y/n, flinging her arms around the girl.

"Hi Pansy, it's actually my birthday." Draco sarcastically greeted her.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, you big baby." She said, giving him a hug too. "I'm sorry I missed my best friend." Draco faked offence.

Theo, Blaise and Daphne all came to hug the couple as well. Neither Y/n nor Draco had realised they didn't know about the engagement.

They all quickly got flutes of champagne, raising them to toast each Draco.

That's when Pansy saw it. "Oh, Merlin. Is that an engagement ring!?" Pansy shouted, grabbing Y/n's left hand.

Both Y/n and Draco awkwardly laughed. "Yes," Y/n confirmed as Pansy admired the ring, showing Y/n's hand to Daphne and the boys.

"That's not just any ring. That's a Black Family ring." Blaise noticed.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. "How did you know that?" She asked, looking back at Draco.

He was blushing pink. "Loverboy, here, has been talking about giving it to you since 1st year," Theo informed Y/n. "He wouldn't shut up about it most nights." Her eyes widened as she looked at a red-faced Draco.

"You never told me that," Y/n mentioned, nudging his chest. Draco groaned, wrapping his arm around Y/n's waist.

"Because it's really embarrassing." Draco quietly stated.

Daphne pattered Draco's arm. "Y/n used to talk about you in her sleep." Daphne declared. That made Y/n's cheeks heat. Draco and the rest of the friend group burst out laughing.

It was finally the day of the final Hogwarts feast. Y/n didn't ever think, at 11 years old, it was going to end like this. In 7 years, she had learnt so much more than most people learnt in their lifetime.

"Pans, Blaise." Y/n opened the door of the Black's seaside house to invite Pansy and Blaise in.

Pansy and Blaise were both dressed in formal clothing as they hugged Y/n. She was wearing a deep green dress that matched Draco's suit's tie.

"You look lovely." Pansy complimented her.

"Pansy, look at you!" Y/n returned the compliment, instructing Pansy to do a spin of her silver dress.

"Are we ready to go?" Draco asked, walking down the stairs. He was in a full black suit aside from his green tie. He bro-hugged Blaise and gave Pansy a hug before wrapping an arm around Y/n's waist.

Y/n nodded. "Let's do it."

Y/n hadn't seen how destructed Hogwarts was, but it now looked just like when she left. She couldn't help but feel sad at the tragedy that had occurred a month ago.

"It's odd being back," Pansy spoke what they were all thinking. Everyone gave her a nod of agreement.

The two couples walked into the great hall, hand in hand. Everyone was surprised to see Y/n. They still had no explanation for why she was gone.

Naturally, Y/n's eyes met her brother. She noticed how faded his lightning-bold scar looked. But she didn't go over to him, she just went to her house table.

McGonagall spoke, about the losses they had faced and how good always won in the end. Her speech was inspiring. Everyone was still distraught about the battle, it was evident on their faces.

They ate, laughing at their tables as the sky fell dark. Y/n had missed being at Hogwarts, it was like home to her. The couple finally made their way through the castle to go home when it was late.

"Y/n!" That was a voice she hadn't expected to hear. She hadn't heard him say her name in years. Harry. His voice was much deeper now.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, quickly turned around to look at him. She still looked like she remembered. "Hi." She greeted him, awkwardly rocking on her feet.

"I'll give you a moment," Draco mentioned, unlacing his hand with Y/n's and walking off.

Now, neither of them knew what to say. They were family but so disconnected.

"How are you?" Harry finally asked.

Y/n softly smiled. "I'm alright. And you?"

"Good." Harry stuttered. Silence fell again. "I'm so sorry." He blurted out. "I never should have said the things I did in 4th year. I was so angry about what Malfoy was saying and I couldn't believe it."

Y/n nodded. "I know, Harry, you don't need to explain it or be sorry."

"No, I do. I shouldn't have refused to talk to you for 3 years. It was childish and hurt you." Harry insisted. It made Y/n feel like the weight was off her shoulders. A weight she had been hauling for years. "I looked for you when I left Hogwarts for a whole year."

That was new information but it warmed Y/n's heart. "Harry, I had no idea." She replied, tears swelling in her eyes. "Narcissa told me you asked about me."

"I felt the worst I had ever felt. I was immature, and mum and dad would have been disappointed." Harry admitted.

Y/n shook her head, finally letting the tears fall at the thought of her parents. "Harry, no, please. They would be so proud of you for everything. I'm so sorry about everything I said as well. I just need to know if you hate me." She begged, looking into his matching eyes.

"I never hated you, not for a minute. I was mad but I was also stupid and prejudice." Harry told her, finally allowing her to relax. Y/n pulled him in for a hug without thinking about it. "I missed you so much." Harry was sobbing too, hot tears on Y/n's back.

"I missed you too. Ron and Hermione and the Weasley's too." Y/n told him, pulling back. "Would you maybe want to hang out sometime. Talk?"

Harry couldn't nod quick enough. "Yes, please. I'd really like that. We've missed a lot of time."

Y/n pulled him back in for another hug. It was like the two puzzle pieces were finally together. The part of her heart that was missing was now filled.

"Is your scar okay?" Y/n asked, running her left forefinger over Harry's forehead.

Harry nodded, glancing up at her finger. He noticed the ring. Harry grabbed Y/n's hand, examining it in front of her. "Oh my." He exclaimed.

"Please don't be mad." Y/n winced, breath shortening.

"No, not at all," Harry told her. "I just want to be a part of your life. Draco's as well." He told her honestly. Y/n had never felt better than she did right then.

"Thank you," Y/n told him. "Are you with Ginny?" She couldn't help but ask.

Harry smiled as he nodded. "Yeah. This ring is phenomenal though." Harry mentioned, smiling as he met Y/n's eyes.

"I know." Y/n agreed a giddy smile on her face.

Today just might have been the best day of her life. She had a twin brother she spoke to and an amazing fiancee. Life was perfect.

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acciojaeyun · 3 years

Text

grace and light | draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x filial!reader warnings: verbal and physical abuse. prompts: "you're okay. you're okay. we're okay."

a/n: thank you for this request, anon! this is very angst but at the same time reassuring. i'm sorry if it took me a while before fulfilling this. i'm also sorry if this is a bit short than expected. :(

also, this fic mentions domestic abuse. if you are experiencing any of this at your home, please don't hesitate to tell anyone you trust for lawful actions to be done accordingly. these actions are not acceptable in any setting and should be dealt with the law.

please, stay safe.

summary: draco was a boy who never saw the brightness in darkness. that was until he had seen life through his sister's eyes.

Draco Malfoy was sucked out of life from his very own eyes. It almost seemed though as if he didn't find any reason to live anymore. The moment he'd reached his sixth year of schooling, he had witnessed his life falling apart right in front of him.

All his life, he had looked up at his greatest influence - his father. Whom, in every thing, had always been impressive in his eyes. Such is the reason he had attempted to befriend the Boy who Lived, because of the belief of his father that Harry Potter was a better Voldemort, a great Dark wizard, a hope for ex-Death Eaters.

It would've stayed that way. Living in a world of envy rather than the thirst for fame. And in envy had he seen himself copying his father's cold and contemptuous manner to everyone aside his inner circle.

But the impression of Lucius on Draco was soon fading, as he believed Harry Potter. The same boy whom he also held a great dislike towards - it almost seems unreal for Draco to believe him. But he believed him, and it brought upon him conflicts within his values and morales.

And it certainly did not help when his sister, Y/N, was a Gryffindor. And she seemed to get under Lucius' skin most of the times and it was always unintentional.

Y/N lived in the shadows of Draco Malfoy. She was usually regarded as the black sheep of the family, much second to Sirius Black, as she was a Gryffindor in a bloodline of Slytherins.

When Harry had thwart their father's attempt of murder, Y/N had been the receiving point of Lucius' aggressive behaviour. Draco had to come hours after Y/N had been hit across the cheek before his trial for imprisonment when he was seen by a myriad of Ministry officials with the aid of Albus Dumbledore.

"Don't tell me what a disgrace is, Narcissa. When we have the existence of a daughter who betrayed our family by siding with Potter!" Lucius screamed at the top of his lungs, hand trying so hard not to beat his wife out of frustration and anger over her accusations.

"Lucius, this is not about Y/N -"

"Why, would you think I wouldn't have saved the prophecy, had Y/N sided with us?! She told them about my mission! The Dark Lord just needed his hands on the prophecy!"

When Narcissa tried to defend her daughter to the words of his husband and Y/N's father, Lucius had lifted his hand as an outburst, aiming his hands on Narcissa when Y/N had leaped forward in order to be the recipient of the hit, to shield her mother from what is bound to happen.

Draco ran downstairs as he heard shrieking from Y/N and his mother. And while he and Y/N never really spoke to each other that much besides filial civility, he was deeply concerned of her sister in ways he couldn't explain nor would even try to comprehend.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted over the commotion, catching Lucius' attention who was about to torture Y/N (out of his piled anger and frustration over her), when his wand was shot away from his grasp, hitting the organ at the farthest corner of the Drawing Room.

"Draco!" Lucius turned towards him, eyes widening at what his favourite child had done. "Draco, stay out of this." He warned through gritted teeth.

"No, you stay out of this." Draco spat, running towards his mother who cried relentlessly at the half-conscious body of Y/N laying on the cold, checkered tiles of the drawing room.

Tears blurred his sight over what he had seen, and as he met his mother's eyes, he nodded at her for her to bring Y/N towards whatever Narcissa finds safe for them to stay in temporarily.

"I'll follow," Draco murmured, anger boiling in his chest as he desperately so tried not to lash out his anger on the person he had looked up at to for all his life.

"Draco -" Lucius started, hands raising up as if in surrender to the boy.

"No, you don't get to talk to me, father." He cut him off, pointing his wand at his father as he took strides backwards. Cheeks dampened over frustrated tears strolling down his cheeks, he never knew that a promise of a victorious life brought upon by the glory of darkness would bring him and his family into a point where he had his wands directed at his father who had first taught him magic in the first place.

And when Lucius was about to say something, everything happened abruptly before the younger Slytherin. Lucius was seized from their house, and was sent to Azkaban before Draco could ever realise it.

Now, he finds himself in the cellar of the Manor, with Narcissa leaving her children at the cellar for a moment of clarity to shine through her as she went upstairs to the Drawing Room.

Draco's arms cradled Y/N's limp body. Her cheek reddening as Lucius' hit was starting to form hues of reds on it. He was shaking, visibly shaking, at what has happened.

His mind started cursing himself up to no end. Miserably not justifying his aversion towards her sister out of the Gryffindor prejudice their father had held against her.

The boy couldn't find in himself the will to cry, but his heart was breaking at whatever had come upon him and his family. His father gone, his mother distraught, his family pariahs among the Death Eaters, and Y/N, unconscious in his grip.

But when Y/N had stirred in her state, Draco's eyes immediately flickered over to her figure. And when his scared eyes met that of Y/N's lidded with fear and pain, he had broken into tears.

"Shh," Draco hushed as he saw tears welling up her eyes as she tried to take a hold of the last courage right in front of her - her brother, Draco.

"I'm here, I'm here," Draco said through a string of hiccups and cries, he brought his lips down to her forehead. "Y/N, you're safe, you're okay." He repeated.

Cries were what Y/N could muster alone, breaking Draco's heart more than he expected. But as her cries died down and was soon replaced by a staggered - though stable - breathing, Draco spared another look at his sister, giving her the first smile she had seen from him. And for Y/N, it didn't matter if it was amidst a raging war.

When Y/N opened her mouth to speak, Draco ran his hands through her hair, not minding if his legs had gone numb over the stationary position. All that matters was he could give the slightest comfort he knew his sister needed.

"You're okay. You're okay. We're okay."

It was at that moment when Draco realised the light beaming right in front of him. Though ironically amidst the darkness starting to erupt in the Wizarding World, he had seen the light carrying on through Y/N's shortness of breath.

As she tries to breath, Draco had found purpose. In her firm grip on his elbows, with the courage she exuded the moment she stepped in to shield Narcissa, all the darkness and light reconciled in his chest.

Draco was changed in an instant. And he knew he had to take care of her mother and Y/N.

And those were all that he carried - even to the extent of accepting death at the expense of a task Draco knew that Voldemort believed he would fail, as he was, in the Dark Lord's words, "just like his father."

Conflicted, though driven by the love for her mother and Y/N, as well as his sister's courage and life which she didn't know she had given him - he finds himself ready to experience terror and despair, he finds himself willing to crumble, if that meant keeping Y/N safe.

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luvvewan · 3 years

Note

promptsssssss!!!

13: “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” 🥺🙏❤️

Thank you for the prompt, @sanerontheinside ! I went full Obi-whump, so I hope you like it.

—

The healer crouched at the edge of the bunk and took Obi-Wan’s bare feet in his hands.

Obi-Wan cried out, trying to pull away from the touch, twisting in the blankets.

“Caht, nah.” The elderly man, Hagit, said softly. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Numo.”

Qui-Gon had garnered only a handful of words in the native tongue, but he didn’t need to know what the healer said; he could see it in his eyes. Pity. For Obi-Wan, yes. But also for him? Fear lodged in his throat.

“Evvi, eh. Uh…here. Boy…numo.” Hagit motioned to Obi-Wan’s foot.

“Keep him still, Master Jedi, please.” Evvi, their young interpreter and Hagit’s grand-niece, translated. “He sees the spine in the left heel.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder and turned away, leaning over his insensate student. Obi-Wan’s face was covered in sweat, eyes half-lidded, lips cracked and quivering. His Learner’s braid had plastered itself to Obi-Wan’s pale neck and chest. Qui-Gon smoothed it carefully between his fingers. “You are doing very well, Padawan. Just stay still. I know it’s difficult but you must not move,” he used a gentle voice better suited for younglings, despite the fact Obi-Wan was twenty three years old and a newly senior apprentice.

He watched Obi-Wan try to look at him, but another wave of pain erupted through their connection in the Force, and his eyes rolled back. Qui-Gon absorbed what he could, wanting to take it all, though even the echoes of Obi-Wan’s agony were enough to make him briefly light-headed.

He noticed Hagit was speaking again, a distant noise. Evvi said something back to him, then Qui-Gon heard several small, hesitant steps. A hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry, Master Jedi. Removal is very painful and delicate. He does not want the spine to break apart while still in the foot. It will release more poison.” Evvi explained. “Can you hold him down?”

Obi-Wan was more powerful than his small frame would suggest. The pain and delirium made him combative, and when Qui-Gon gripped his arms he thrashed and snarled. He had never seen Obi-Wan, obedient and self-possessed Obi-Wan, untethered this way. Fingernails raked down his forearm, tore at his robe sleeves.

Sedation was not possible. The medical supplies were limited anyway. They were lucky to have Hagit, who was old enough to remember when the stone-fish were plentiful, before a plague wiped them out. Now it was exceedingly rare to catch a stone-fish on the shore, due to both its near-extinction and impressive camouflage. Obi-Wan had accompanied some of the village’s children to the water, or really they had accompanied him, starry-eyed at the presence of an offworlder, a Jedi. He had been stepping along a path of craggy rocks leading to the ocean when his foot landed on a stone-fish, its spiny, algae-crusted body hidden amongst the rocks and sand.

The pain had been immediate. The children had run, screaming, for help. By the time Qui-Gon found him, Obi-Wan was screaming too.

Other villagers had come. Among them was Hagit, helped along by Evvi at his elbow, his grey eyes milky and grave. Obi-Wan was administered a general anti-venom there on the beach, already overwhelmed by the agony that radiated from his foot through his entire body.

Evvi had told Qui-Gon the poison was brutal and quick. It was not always fatal, but it triggered something nearly as cruel: most victims were gripped by an unbearable sense of dread, demanding to be killed before the poison could fully take them.

From his admittedly foggy calculations, it had been close to an hour since Obi-Wan was attacked. Qui-Gon’s stomach lurched. He did not look behind him, where he knew Hagit was hovering at the wound site, arthritic hands shaking, preparing to perform a task of great precision.

“Still, Master Jedi. He must be still.”

He brought the Force to bear down on his Padawan while using his own brute strength to pin Obi-Wan’s wrists back onto the bunk. Obi-Wan whimpered and moaned, whipping his head to the side. Tears streamed freely down his face, snot and sweat dripping from his nose.

“Help!” He kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the healer’s grasp.

Hagit made a sharp noise under his breath, likely a swear.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me! We’re trying to help you!” He barked hoarsely, wiping sweat from his own brow before straddling his Padawan and laying over top of him, using his weight to hold him down. Their heads were pressed together and Obi-Wan wept and keened in his ear.

Qui-Gon’s heart found new ways to break. The Force was overrun with panic and hopelessness. Obi-Wan twitched and fought under him, desperate to get freed. Qui-Gon tried to use a sleep suggestion but his Padawan’s aura was clouded, elusive.

And time was draining away. He imagined the spine lodged in Obi-Wan’s tender heel, the poison seeping into his blood and causing more damage. “Just…breathe with me, Padawan, alright? There is no pain, there is the Force.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan whimpered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “Leave it to me, then. Trust in me, young one. Whatever else is happening…it doesn’t matter. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

He knew it was a risk, to appeal to the dutiful instinct in Obi-Wan that very well might be overridden by poison-fueled anxiety. But what else could he do? Hold his delirious student down with every last bit of strength he possessed, and possibly break his bones in the process?

Obi-Wan bucked against him, sniffling and gasping. “It won’t stop it won’t stop oh gods…”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon smoothed his damp hair. “You are so far away from that, aren’t you? Safe with me. Safe and very tired. Only you and only me, far away.”

Nerveless fingers clutched at him. “M-Make it stop make it stop I can’t—“

“Of course I will. Hold onto me and keep your legs very still. You can do that, I know you can. Put your arms around me and hold on, as tight as you can.” Qui-Gon blinked back the sweat pouring into his eyes, body vibrating with hope and dread as Obi-Wan slowly obeyed. “That’s it. Now I want you to keep the rest of your body very, very still, Padawan. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan heaved an exhausted sob, but nodded. His arms gripped around Qui-Gon’s back while his legs gradually relaxed on the bunk.

Hagit murmured to himself. Evvi touched Qui-Gon’s leg.

In the stuffy little room, everyone tacitly understood what would happen next.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begin to tense. “Far away,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We can go anywhere, can’t we? We’ve been to so many places together.”

“Nuh, Evvi.”

“Uncle says now, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and released his fear to the Force. “Where do you want to go, Obi-Wan? I remember you enjoying Alderaan, with all the beautiful trees. The people there were so kind, weren’t they?” He did his best not to think of the fragile procedure happening inches away. His muscles shook, ready to react if necessary. He knew once Hagit began removing the spine it could not be halted. “I can’t remember…did we visit in the summer or winter?”

Obi-Wan was holding onto him for dear life, strangled moans catching in his throat.

My brave boy, Qui-Gon thought to himself. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what it felt like for Obi-Wan.

“Kill me Master Master oh Force I can’t…”

Qui-Gon squeezed him close. He thought of what Evvi had said--the poor victims who begged for death. He had not thought Obi-Wan would reach that point. But even the Force could not insulate the young man from such all-encompassing agony.

Obi-Wan wept openly against Qui-Gon’s neck. “Master, Qui-Gon...it’s moving..what….what is it doing..?”

“Don’t move,” Qui-Gon warned. “Do you want to go to Alderaan? Or someplace else? Someplace warm?”

They had just finished an extended mission on a frigid planet, yet Obi-Wan shook his head. “N-No deserts.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan sunburned easily, returning from desert assignments with pink cheeks and ears. “Of course not. No, someplace cool enough to sleep out under the stars. Kodasta, perhaps? Remember how the stars seemed so close, as if we could nearly touch them?”

Obi-Wan clutched at the robe on Qui-Gon’s back. “Y-Yes…ahhh…”

“What was the constellation you saw? I can’t remember. It was quite rare, wasn’t it? I’m never any good at that but you spotted it right away. What was it called?”

“…Th-The El…usive Mage.”

“Oh yes. That was it.”

Obi-Wan moaned into Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him steady. The pain was beyond excruciating and Qui-Gon could only feel the edge of it; Obi-Wan had long since given up any attempts at shielding from him. It was a testament to Obi-Wan’s endurance that he had not passed out.

“Nearly done,” Evvi said.

Thank the Force. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon praised him quietly. “Keep right here with me, can you see the Mage? Close your eyes and see if it’s there.”

“M-Master…”

“I know. But we are so far away from that, aren’t we? Among the stars on Kodasta. I see them when I close my eyes. Close your eyes and you’ll see them too. No, no, you can’t twitch like that. Squeeze me instead. That’s better. Now look for the Mage with me. Help me see it.”

“Ugh…” Obi-Wan groaned and panted. “Mmmmph…”

Qui-Gon could not let their progress unravel, not now. “Is it there, towards the left?”

For several strained seconds, Obi-Wan made harsh, pained sounds and struggled for breath. Then, finally: “Y-Yes. You have to…un…ah…unfocus your eyes to see. Look for the hat f-first.”

Qui-Gon smiled, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ah, of course.”

“It’s out, Master Jedi.”

“I see it now, Obi-Wan. It’s beautiful.”

His Padawan sagged under him, unconscious.

—

Qui-Gon went to the shore and walked along the rock paths, fingers hooked in his belt. The stone-fish had been immediately killed, its remaining spines safely collected and the rest of it burned by a few of the villagers. Evvi told him some of the men searched the beach until dawn, out of caution.

They had not come across a single other stone-fish. Obi-Wan’s foot had apparently found the only specimen on the entire beach.

But then, Obi-Wan had always been blessed with a particular sort of luck.

He came to the place where Obi-Wan was stung. Specks of blood stained the rocks there. His instinct was to throw them into the ocean.

Instead, Qui-Gon left everything as it was, sea spray misting his cheeks as he turned back towards the village.

—

When he returned to the little cottage, Hagit was sitting at a sun-bleached wooden table in the kitchen. The red-tinged spine, still full of venom, was sealed in a plastibag and held loosely in his liver-spotted hands.

Hagit looked up at Qui-Gon. He was quite old, skin sagging and eyes permanently wet.

“Boy…yes.” Hagit nodded firmly at him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to swallow. He bowed before the healer. “Graz-ta,” he said. Thank you.

—

Obi-Wan was curled up on the bunk. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, his bandaged foot sticking out from the bottom. Though he had improved since the day before, his face still looked drained of its color.

Qui-Gon glanced around the quiet, dark room. He noticed Obi-Wan’s clothes and boots tucked under a chair. Evvi had done it, probably, but it was still a familiar sight, reminding him of how Obi-Wan tended to neatly fold his tunics, no matter where they found themselves. His heart tightened; he let it pass. He knew he would feel this way after such a close call. Small, tender things about Obi-Wan were going to strike him at odd times—he knew that, unfortunately, from experience.

Like the way he would hold his braid between his fingers when he slept. Qui-Gon could not recall Feemor or Xanatos ever doing that.

He sat on the bunk beside Obi-Wan and listened to the quaint sounds of life beyond the door. He appreciated the borrowed sense of domesticity that came with staying in family houses: home cooking, careworn sheets, a calmness and mildness in the Force. He wished they could stay here until Obi-Wan fully recovered from his ordeal, but the Council had already sent them their next assignment.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against Obi-Wan’s forehead. Glassy grey eyes fluttered open.

“Only a slight fever now,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan kept his braid laced between his fingers. He looked swallowed up by the thick weave of the blanket and the night shirt that was several sizes too big. Or was it simply the absence of Jedi trappings that made it more obvious that he was young, human and fragile? “Well,” he croaked, voice ruined from prolonged screaming followed by prolonged silence, “I didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He touched Obi-Wan’s cheek. “No. You seem very much alive to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes already drifting closed. “I didn’t sense it. The…ah…thing.”

“Neither did I,” Qui-Gon admitted, gazing out the window above Obi-Wan’s head. The villagers had searched the beach, but who could search all of the sea? He began to think of other dangers on other worlds, the unnamed masses of threats that awaited Obi-Wan in his life, on their next mission, even tomorrow. “If we could sense everything, our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmhmmm. Less interesting?”

“I’m slipping. You’re guessing my lessons before I can give them.”

“Mm, but I can…always sense you, Master.” Obi-Wan mumbled. He would be asleep soon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “May the Force be with you, my Padawan.”

—

They rarely dreamed together, but that night they did, climbing through constellations in the dark sky, safely above the sea.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #qui-gon #writing prompts #obi wan and qui gon #obi wan whump #luvewan fanfic

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hello friend!❤️ I absolutely adore your Miya Twins works. Every time you post something for one of them or both of them I’m so elated and excited to read what you’ve come up with! If your requests are open (your bio says they are) I was wondering if you could write something where the reader almost successfully escapes or calls for help? What are the twins reactions? What would they do? I love how you write their dynamic and would love to see this idea explored! If you don’t want to write for both of them, maybe Atsumu’s perspective? Personally he is my favorite twin! I hope you are well thank you❤️

Hey friendo! ♥ We actually talked about escaping them before, so this might be interesting for you! Thanks for requesting, I hope this is close to what you wanted! I needed a reason to just make it ‘almost’ ^^’

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"Keep it down, 'Tsumu."

His brother's warning only frustrated Atsumu more, but he grit his teeth in response, the last remnants of his voice fading through the hallway of the apartment complex. Maybe he had been a little loud as he tried to voice his anger, frustration, and fear, but how else was he supposed to come to terms with this situation? Not only had their darling found a way to crack the lock on the front door open, no, they also successfully slipped out of his grasp and outran him in the moment of surprise - HIM, a professional athlete.

It was almost too bad that they missed a step on the second to last staircase, making them fall right into the opposing wall. The twins' screams as they heard the maddening crack when their head hit the cement must have echoed throughout the whole house. Luckily, the twins weren't the only shady people renting an apartment here, and most were empty anyway. No one came to see what the ruckus was all about.

Their darling was anything but weightless as they were slumped against his back, Atsumu giving them a piggyback ride back to their home. Luckily, his muscles were good enough to easily carry them around, but taking three staircases with an extra person on his back wasn't the most comfortable task even for him.

"It's your responsibility. You let them get away," had been Osamu's reasoning as to why they wouldn't alternate carrying them. "Asshole," Atsumu grumbled, Osamu giving him a glare back over his shoulder. He knew just as well that Atsumu wasn't lashing out at him, both of them going through the same state of shock and frustration. But now, with the blood of their darling's head wound dripping onto Atsumu's shirt, they also had their hands full with worrying.

"Stop making a scene. It could be worse," Osamu reminded him, but despite the harsh words, Atsumu felt the same kind of relief. At least they didn't make it out. But at what price?

"Ya think they'll recover from that?" Atsumu asked quietly as Osamu opened the door for him, both of them frowning at the busted door lock. It was crazy to think that their sweet, docile darling was able to do such a thing. However, when their darling realized that their plan failed to pick the lock, they must have panicked so much they ended up opening it this way. "From their failed escape? Probably. That wound is a different thing."

Both of them were tense as Osamu spoke out what they wished didn't have to be voiced. They were no doctors. They could patch up a cut or put ointment on a bruise, but if anything was wrong inside of their brain, they'd be screwed. Bringing them to a hospital was out of the question. Less their darling might be taken away from them. Atsumu didn't even want to start thinking about all the people that would be all over his sweetheart, touching and caring for them while he couldn't. A stupid moment to get jealous, but who could blame him?

"Put them down in their room; it's the safest spot at the moment. Close the door just in case," Osamu instructed, opening the door for Atsumu before disappearing into his own bedroom. "Bring tissues!" Atsumu called after him as he carried their darling inside, trying to slide them off his back as gently as possible and laying them on their bed. His t-shirt was already ruined as he pulled it off, gently dabbing the fabric against the wound on their forehead, waiting for his brother to bring some bandages and ointment. "Shit," he mumbled, biting his own lip in frustration.

The person he was most frustrated with was himself. Yes, he knew about what kind of power balance reigned in their house. Yes, he knew that not all he did to his darling was in their best interest. But he didn't want it to end... like this. That's not what he wanted. Pressing the shirt to their wound, he lifted their hand with his free one, bringing it to his lips. They had done something bad. Something really, really bad. But at the same time, they were so vulnerable, so dependant, and they didn't even know it. They shouldn’t have run from them, it was their darling’s fault in the first place. But how could he be mad at them when they were in this heartbreaking state? Punishment was nothing he could even think about in that moment. What if they didn’t wake up again? Even with the blood dripping from their face, they were the most wonderful person he knew, and Atsumu feared to have told them that less than he should have when he had the chance.

"Move." Giving him an ungentle kick in the waist, Osamu made Atsumu free up the space directly next to their darling's head. He wished he could have his brother's place, but Osamu was just a bit better when it came to fixing stuff. So maybe, he could fix this too?

Pushing away Atsumu and his shirt, Osamu leaned over their darling, checking again if they were still breathing before taking a closer look at the wound. "Ya know how to do stitches?" Osamu mumbled as he looked at it from every side possible. "Are you crazy?" Atsumu hissed back. "Neither of us can do that!"

"And your better idea is...?"

Fuck. His stomach twisted and churned as Atsumu thought about this.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You do it," Atsumu spoke monotonously. Trying to hide his fear and the shaking hands in his lap.

"Your hands are more steady," Osamu hissed back at him, not noticing that they currently were out of control, only trusting logic in this situation.

"Are you kidding?" Atsumu barked, ready to hit his brother if not for both of Osamu's hands being around their darling's face to steady it.

"One of us has to, and it ain't me! I just cook! You have finger coordination!"

"But..." Atsumu's voice cracked, his eyes falling onto their darling's almost peaceful face if not for the bloody mess at the side of their forehead. Osamu sighed. He pulled his hands away, fingers covered in red smears as he brushed back his hair. "They're bleeding, 'Tsumu," he whispered, and Atsumu heard the same damn fear in his brother's voice that he was fighting with. The struggle, the uncertainty. Fear of losing their darling and guilt of letting it come so far. Osamu had been farther away from their darling than Atsumu, but he was blaming himself just as much. "What do we do?" Osamu's voice was strained with the burden of a person's life on his shoulders as well.

That's right. Atsumu wasn't the only one hurting.

"Then the hospital--" Osamu sighed, catching his composure as quickly as possible, or he might have started to cry. Instead, he pulled out his phone. He hesitated before his lock screen flashed up, ready to call the emergency hotline. By now, time was of the essence.

"No," Atsumu decided right as his eyes caught the light coming from the display. "I'll do it," he stated, determined with an unknown strength.

"I will," he emphasized again, this time, trying to hide the slight shake of uncertainty in his voice. All their work, all this time they put into keeping their darling with them - it couldn't be in vain. Their love was not so shallow. "But..." Osamu mumbled, unsure if this was the right decision.

"I'm the older twin. Trust me."

"Debatable..." Osamu mumbled, glancing back at their hurting darling. "But I trust you."

It all felt unreal. Their first aid kit wasn't just a normal, store-bought one as Atsumu always thought. Somehow, Osamu seemed to have predicted there could have been worse wounds to befall them, owning everything they could need. Chaos reigned in Atsumu's head as he watched one video after another of how to stitch wounds on Osamu's phone while washing his hands maniacally as if to wash off the sins crawling over his skin. The time was pressuring him. There was so much to note, he was barely able to remember the first step once he was done watching it. Avoiding blood poisoning seemed to be the slightest problem when he couldn't even remember how to close a stitch.

Both of them suited up for the occasion, Osamu silently bringing a new shirt into the bath before washing his hands next to his brother. "We said we'd do it together when we brought them here," he reminded Atsumu as he helped him into the gloves. "You're not alone in this."

"I know," Atsumu sighed. "We always did it together, but I have to do this alone. For them. For us."

"I'm always right behind you," Osamu encouraged Atsumu as they stepped up to their darling. A moment of silent prayers passed as they looked down at the biggest mistake of their life. Their darling.

"Let's get it over with," Atsumu mumbled. There was something in his brother's eyes that Osamu had never seen before. He could only recognize it as a point of no return. A breaking point. And yet, Osamu handed the needle to his brother, who immediately pointed it to where he wanted it to go. However, before he could stick it in, he hesitated, his will faltering instantly. What if he'd mess it up? What if he couldn't do it? They'd die. Either way, they'd die.

"On three," Osamu caught his brother, who was falling into despair. Atsumu had to do it. There was no turning back, they had long ignored the right things, and now they were too deep in to go back. He'd prove his love once and for all. Atsumu breathed in.

"Deep breath. One. Two..."

Atsumu breathed out.

"Three."

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]

Title: The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]

Synopsis:

You’re not the first one he’s brought into the Goblin King’s Labyrinth. You’re not the first one to best him, to get to the center and beat him at his own game. But you are the first one to beat him and give in: “Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.” What happens when the magic fades, and you’re left with is the muddled consequences of your decision?

Word Count: 2550

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, drugging, mentions of noncon

You hate the ballroom. You hate the gowns and the glitter and the music. You hate all of it.

How long have you been here? Time is fuzzy and of no consequence here, and the clock--you’ve planted yourself in front of it, staring--never behaves as it should. The novelty of the whites and golds and pinks of the ballroom, of the swirling dancers and their impossibly endless stamina, has long worn off. Well before this particular peach, well before this particular ball, spinning and swirling together like rainwater down a drain.

The gown that you once admired, that once had you blushing and twirling in its beauty and delicacy and shimmering glitter, weighs your shoulders down. The delicate glass-like heels refuse to budge from your feet, though no one will ever dance with you--a grin and a laugh is all you got, when you dared to ask--but they still feel sore from your wandering, your half-hearted spinning and attempts to lose yourself in the dream, all the same.

Everything, everything is sore. Your body and your head and your heart. The room feels fuzzy, not unlike the skin of a peach. Fuzzy and unreal and disorienting. And you’re so, so lonely.

The people here are dreamlike and blurry, talking amongst each other in giggling whispers, which is the most you’ve gotten out of them. Laughter. Do they mock you? Or are they trapped in some fugue-like state, unable to do anything but drink and dance and laugh?

Perhaps you’re not the only one here who has bitten peaches.

The clock in the corner strikes, but when you glance at it, its hands are winding aimlessly. There Is no hour and you’ve been here forever, it seems, and you might be here forever still.

All you can do is wander, your glass heels clicking against the ballroom floor, dodging the dancers who swirl or gather to sip champagne that flows freely. Wander and think, because getting lost in the haze makes you terrified that you might become one of them, unable to do anything but laugh and dance and your feet will be even more sore.

Which is more sore, you wonder--your body or your heart?

It doesn’t hurt much, anymore, to try to think about your friends and family only to realize that their faces and voices and actions are foggy and lost. They are loose memories that you can never grasp tightly onto.

But the loneliness is something you can grasp, and often do, feeling it keenly and sharp in your stomach. You feel his absence keenly, too, in the wake of no better company--here or there or anywhere. When you’re in the castle or in this ballroom or trapped in another fantasy.

When you’re in the castle (you admit, you miss its stone walls and the open windows of his throne room and even your room, oppressive though it was) you are often left to your own devices while Jareth does what he does. The goblins are stupid, and only want to roughhouse with each other. You aren’t allowed outside of the castle, so any entertainment or companionship you might obtain with others--assuming they didn’t hate you, assuming Jareth hadn’t killed them or tossed them into some oubliette to rot forever after assisting you into the center--is impossible.

And so Jareth is the only one you can have a conversation with; the only one who isn’t half-there.

Not that you openly pine for his companionship, either.

What started out as a nervous acceptance of his offer, a buzzing in your head and body that reminded you of your first sips of champagne, had dulled down too swiftly. You were his queen, yes. He was your slave, perhaps. But to a point--to a point.

You remember the first time he led you to your chambers, a near replica of your bedroom at home, albeit with a few twists: such as a closet stuffed with the most sumptuous clothing you’d ever imagined, some of them literal recreations of gowns you’d drawn in your notebooks or pinned to your wall.

It was beautiful and too much and all for you. And then he’d kissed you goodnight so gallantly and you’d sat nervously on the end of your bed. But when you tried to leave, the door wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, fast. You knocked. No one answered. You walked backwards to your bed and crawled under the covers and thought, maybe, this was a dream, and when I wake up I will be at home.

You woke up in your room, with the sequins of ballgowns winking at you from the closet.

When the door swung open and he stood there, dressed more modestly than you’d seen him before, you inquired about the door; ever so quietly, politely, unsure, nervous and realizing with the clarity of sleep that he was a goblin king and you were just some nobody who had agreed to give up the world and family and friends and your sister, safe at home he said, but did he tell you the truth? And he threw his head back and laughed ignored your question.

He told you to pick a gown for breakfast. A gown at breakfast seemed an impossible choice and perhaps he read your mind because he took one out for you, a pale green gown with sparkling puffy sleeves, and you hoped you wouldn’t get food on them. Did it matter if you did? The realization of who you were and where you were seemed to hit you again and again.

But as you dressed and as he adorned your neck with an emerald necklace, you were feeling better, a little less nervous, a little more excited. Your dreams--here they were, laid out in front of you like a feast. You were in a castle, you had anything you wanted apparently at your fingertips. And a king to hand it to you, his touch both gentle and firm as he took your arm like a gentlemen and led you into the hall.

As your own door shut behind you, you caught sight of it: a heavy, gilded padlock on the outside of your door, the padlock that had kept you from budging it the night before. Your stomach dropped.

“Why is that there?” You’d asked, looking up at him. He smiled, and it was not exactly a nice smile, you realized.

“To keep my queen inside her chambers. What else are locks in castles for?”

Your cheeks felt heated, and you’d blurted out--oh the memory of it makes you feel stupid, now--”If I’m your queen, you can’t just lock me up in my room.”

He stopped. His arm around you tensed and it made your heart speed up.

“Can’t I?” It was all he said, practically murmuring as he looked down at you. Then he’d continued, and you stumbled for a moment before following him in silence.

You had no words to answer him.

Fear him, love him, obey him; the words on loop echoed in your head as he led you to a dining chamber, bustling with goblins who tripped over themselves carrying trays and goblets to and fro. You barely remember sitting at the ornate, carved chairs in front of a haphazard meal--how well could goblins cook?--or the way Jareth insisted on giving you cup after cup of wine.

You barely remember the way the day seemed to jump by, and after dinner your head felt heavy and then there was a bed underneath you, his bed, large and sumptuous. The smell of peaches was in the air and your dinner gown, pink and velvet and scented like roses, bunched up underneath you as he was above you.

The days after that were often blurry. You asked to take it back, you asked to go home. He refused and locked you in your room. You asked to just be let outside the castle, at least, and inquired about the friends you’d made in the labyrinth. He refused and locked you in your room. He fed you peaches. He sat by your bed, petting your hair as your head swum in dreams, waiting to pull you out whenever he deemed it suitable.

Ah.

You’re lost again, lost in memories, when you’re suddenly in someone's grip and spinning, your back instinctively leaning as you twirl.

“Did you miss me?”

It’s Jareth, of course. No one else would touch you. He’s wearing a suit made of embroidered purple velvet, and when you glance up you see that he’s chosen makeup to match. And glitter, of course, always glitter. You swear you can see it flying off him as you dance, as he sparkles as much as anything else in the room.

His grip on you is familiar and firm, and when he spins you around the weight of this dream-like room seems to lessen. Your shoulders feel lighter and the glass around your feet doesn’t feel like it might break and shatter into a million pieces.

Your mind aches to talk to him. To have a conversation with a person, not a laughing caricature. To hear him ask about your favorite books, ones you didn’t own, so he could procure them. To listen to him tell you about those who didn’t make it through the labyrinth--though you hated these stories, grim as they were, and he stopped telling them. To cross your arms nervously and murmur out your fantasies at his behest, things you’d always wanted to see or do; unicorns and fairies (though you’d seen them before the castle, and they bit you) and jousts (not quite as gallant, with goblins as the knights) and anything else your heart desired.

You might tell him this. You might tell him that you did miss him, because without him you’re a heavy, aimless dancer stuck in this room that you hate with people that don’t view you as human and are they people at all? You might tell him that you do appreciate what he’s done for you, the gifts and gowns and dreams, but that you wish he wasn’t so commanding towards you, wasn’t so demanding of you. You might tell him that his passion confused you and his kisses were too intense and you don’t understand why he wants you, why anyone wants you.

You might tell him, yes, I missed you, please take me out of here and take me with you.

You might tell him this.

Stubbornness wins out.

“No,” you say, ignoring the ache in your feet. “I was just bored.”

He chuckles, but he’s not amused.

“And here I thought you wanted to join me in the castle.” He releases you from his grip with a final flourish, and the endless dancers around you begin to push in, separating you two in their increasing mania.

“Well, if you didn’t miss me, I’ll let you get back to your ball.”

The music swells with his words, as he backs way, disappearing among the nameless throng of guests.

It might be weeks before he shows up again, and instantly, stubbornness loses.

“Wait!” You push against the moving wall of people, their tulles and sequins scratching your arm, their heels stepping on your toes. Someone laughs, a barking, harsh laugh.

Through sheer force of will, you reach him, grabbing the end of a velvet sleeve and gripping it tightly with your fingers.

“Please,” you beg. “Don’t leave me.”

You see the glimmer in his eyes, a ghost of a smile. You bite your lip. Words are important here. Words are contracts and wishes and pitfalls all in one. “No, wait. I mean. Take me with you.”

He dips low then, taking your hand and pressing it with a gentle kiss. Someone in the crowd lets out a saccharine sigh.

“Whatever you desire.”

When his lips meet your skin, the ballroom collapses and inverts and you wake up in your bed with a slamming force that has you sitting so quickly that your head swims. You reach out and grasp the headboard and wait for the world to stop falling, wait for the pain of gowns and glass slippers to stop sweeping through your bones.

When you stand, slowly and gently, a discarded peach rolls onto the floor.

Your stomach curls when you remember biting into it. What can you do, when you’re locked up in your room with nothing to eat but what shows up on a golden tray in the morning? You’re stubborn and disobey him, and he locks you up in a room. In your room, you can only eat what he sends you. And he sends a peach, so you must eat.

And his peach sends you to the worlds of your dreams, worlds of ballgowns and princesses, glitter and lace, soft music and oh-so-much-prettiness. You scoff at the you that you used to be. The you that accepted the invitation into the labyrinth and in the end, capsized under the temptation of fantasy being reality. Of being his queen.

Though it’s hard to feel like any queen, even the queen of goblins and labyrinths and bogs of eternal stench, locked in your room, still dizzy from a peach.

When the door opens, he’s wearing something new. A costume change, because as long as you’ve known him (how long? He refuses to say, and time of course, no longer has meaning) he can never resist wearing something new.

It’s a gold suit this time, glimmering and shining. The gold glitter above his eyes seems to dance as his hands open and a large golden gown drops onto your bed. You look down at it and your heart aches. How you would have loved such a gown, before. How you do still love it, and you can’t hide the way your fingers slide over the fabric, earning a pleased chuckle from Jareth.

“What’s the occasion?” You murmur, fingering the delicate golden lace at the fringe of the sleeves.

He lifts you up and tugs at your night gown, and you obediently raise your hands this time as he undresses you. Layers and layers first, then the shimmering gown. He pulls matching shoes out of nowhere and you slip them on, sighing a bit when they’re comfortable and soft and not made out of glass.

“I’ve ordered our subjects to put on a performance.” He smiles, and if it’s not a nice smile, you push the bitterness down. “To celebrate the return of their queen.”

You allow him to take you by the arm, and you keep your eyes straight ahead this time. The door shuts behind you and you refuse to look back at the padlock.

“I trust you will behave,” he tells you, not stopping in your progress down the hall.

You nod and grip his arm tighter. At least he’s real. At least he speaks to you. At least you’re in the castle.

Tonight, you hope, his bed chamber won’t smell like peaches.

#yandere jareth #jareth x reader #jareth goblin king #labyrinth #afterwitch writes

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wardenannie · 3 years

Text

A lot of baby/pregnancy fic tends to focus on the end of pregnancy/the beginning of the baby’s life. But I wanted to do a little character study into Levi, so here he is over the course of 10 hours after learning Hange is preggo~ (mildly nsfw)

Ao3

10 Hours

Hour 0

“So...” She faces away from him. Her single eye locked on the sky beyond her window. Hange Zoe, fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, will not turn to face him. She is sat at her desk, hands folded on its top. Levi cannot see her expression, but he expects that it is as grim as her tone.

He braces himself for bad news.

“I’m pregnant.”

The birds beyond the window stop singing. The clouds cease their trek across the cerulean sky. Levi’s breath is stuck in his chest, a painful lump between his lungs.

“Come again?”

This time she does look at him, pinning him to the floor with an emotionless glance over her shoulder.

“Pregnant. Expecting. Vertically impaired bun in the proverbial oven.”

The short joke is lost on him. He exhales sharply, like someone punched him in the gut, “Oh.”

Hange sighs and resumes her staring out the window, “Just think on it. You don’t need to say anything right now.”

Levi swallows thickly and gladly takes the excuse to exit the room. His head is spinning, heart thundering in his chest. Pregnant. It doesn’t feel real yet.

He retreats to the relative safety of his quarters.

Hour 1

Levi punches a hole in his wall with a snarl. Untoward anger radiating through his limbs.

Sheetrock and plaster rain down, dirtying his pristine floor, further incensing him. He kicks a second hole in the wall, shouting with the impact of his booted heel. More debris falls.

He paces back and forth, occasionally tugging a hand through his hair. He’s sweating, he feels filthy.

But he knows that Hange isn’t lying. This is not the sort of sick joke she would pull. But they had been so careful, hadn’t they?

He replays the penultimate moments of their last few encounters over in his head, and quickly realizes that they haven’t been as careful as he’d thought. There is nothing quite like losing himself in the depths of Hange... Commander Hange.

Shit. He curses himself and perches on the foot of his bed, resting his head in his hands.

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

Hour 2

Eventually he finds himself spread eagle across his bed. His eyes trace along the wooden grain of the ceiling. His head still spins when he thinks too deeply about anything, and a strange ache has settled into his chest, like a fist around his heart.

Does he love Hange Zoe? Would it be fair to bring a child into the world if he didn’t?

They’ve never said the words aloud to one another, but he knows in his heart-of-hearts that he does love her. She anchors him to reality, instills in him a drive to live where there might have only been despair.

His fists clench and unclench rhythmically in his linens. Levi shuts his slate eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm and steady himself.

He is in love with Hange Zoe. He can admit that to himself now, in what feels like the most dire of circumstances.

But can he love a child? Is there enough room in his heart?

He rolls onto his side and covers his face with a pillow.

It still feels unreal. A bad dream playing out before his waking eyes.

Hour 3

He oscillates back into denial, then anger.

Who are they to bring a child into this terrible, cruel world? An Eldian child, a scapegoat, a martyr for Marley to string up and burn.

She has to be lying. Hange cannot possibly be telling him the truth. No Walls, no Gods, no omnipotent powers could be so terribly sordid as to bring an infant into the world now. Not while they are on the brink of war.

Hour 4

He remembers his childhood; years spent wasting away in a whorehouse. Starving while his mother wasted her ill-gotten wages on booze. Levi was a bastard, fatherless. The only male role-model he’d ever had was Kenny, and look where that had gotten him.

“I can’t be a father,” he whispers into the dying light of his quarters.

He doesn’t know how.

Hour 5

He takes his supper in the mess hall when he would normally eat within the privacy of his quarters. He hopes that the noise might distract, that interacting with his... his kids... might help him to better grasp his current situation.

The irony of it isn’t lost on him as he sits in silence amongst his young comrades. In a way he has been a father to them where their own had become titan food.

He watches Sasha scarf her food with abandon, Connie teasing her between his own hearty mouthfuls. He watches Jean roll his eyes at the two of them, then take a moment to proudly pet the patchy stubble that has begun to grow in around his chin.

Levi listens to Armin excitedly pontificate to Mikasa and Eren about Marlean cuisine and meal customs. Mikasa listens on in contented silence, a small smile on her lips. Eren’s eyes are distant, like he isn’t listening at all.

Levi wants to smack him on the back of his head. The twerp has been acting up a lot more as of late. Secretly, it worries him.

His kids.

Who needs a baby when they have it this good?

He sighs and looks down to his tray, food untouched.

They’re Hange’s kids, too.

Their baby. Theirs.

Hour 6

He returns to his quarters, stomach tied up in painful knots. He remembers Kenny, how the man had taught him the cruel, ruthless ways of the Underground.

He remembers Isabel and Furlan. How he had allowed himself to love so selflessly only to be burned and brutalized in the end. What if that happened to Hange? Hange who he had come to rely on more than anything, anyone. Childbirth was a dangerous thing, everyone knew that. Even with the new, fancy anti-biotics being imported from the mainland the risks were high.

What if he lost her?

Her remembers Erwin who he had loved as a father, a brother, a martyr and a dear comrade. He remembers his Commander dying on that rooftop in Shiganshina. He remembers the blood. Icy blue eyes cold and dead as Hange peeled back his lids.

Levi’s stomach rolls and he flips his upper half over the side of the bed and promptly vomits onto the floor.

Behind his eyes an image has begun to take shape. Hange laid out in bed, naked from the waist down. Bloody, sweaty, weak and dying as a shapeless creatures squalls on her chest.

“No,” Levi rasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He feels so weak, so helpless in the face of this indominable thing. The sleep that takes him is unbidden and restless.

Hour 7

Levi dreams of a cabin tucked away amongst the massive boles of the trees beyond wall Rose. Smoke rises from the chimney, filling the crisp forest air with a pleasant, homey smell.

Sunlight breaks through the canopy and speckles the ground. Everything is bright and beautiful and alive. The simple wooden door of the cabin beckons to him, and he is helpless but to answer its call.

Inside the space is cozy and quaint. The kitchen and living area inhabiting the same space. Hange is waiting for him, sitting on a small, plush sofa. She isn’t wearing her eye patch, revealing the milky iris and silvery scar she usually guards so carefully.

“Levi,” she beams at him. For a moment he is stunned by her simple, unkempt beauty.

He knows he is meant to be anxious over something, but suddenly he cannot remember what it is.

He sits down beside her takes her face between his hands and kisses her.

I love you, he wants to admit the truth. He’s ready. But his lips will not part. The words will not pass his tongue.

When they part Hange’s expression darkens, long shadows falling over her hawkish features.

“Levi...” she breathes.

Shadows begin to creep in from the corners of the cabin. The walls suddenly feel as though they are caving in, and suddenly his peaceful dream has become a nightmare.

“You’re pregnant,” The sound of his own voice is alien and distant in his ears. He feels small. Smaller than usual. Miniscule and helpless. Why can he speak now?

Hange nods and then the pair of them are besieged by shadows.

Hour 8

Levi sits bolt upright in his bed, sweat is gathered on his brow and sharp shivers wrack his limbs. He pants and wipes his face with his palm.

“Fuck,” he curses.

He’s used to nightmares, but more often than not Hange is in bed beside him waiting to soothe them away.

Here, in his quarters, he is completely and utterly alone.

Levi doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

He tugs on his boots and stumbles out into the hallway, not caring how disheveled he must appear to any passers-by. He wants to be with Hange, he’s cursing himself for leaving her alone to begin with.

How selfish does that make him? He’s not the one bearing the brunt of this burden. It isn’t his body and life that are at risk. What must she be feeling now? All alone because her lover left her in a fit of selfish upset.

When he reaches her door he doesn’t bother to knock. It opens with a rush of air and he finds her where he left her; sitting at her desk, gazing out the window. Her elbows rest on the dry ink of a half finished letter.

“Levi?” She spins sideways in her chair, facing him entirely.

He shakes his head and closes the distance between them in two easy strides. He seizes her face between his hands and kisses her roughly, because he isn’t good with words, so he’ll show her how he feels.

“Mmpf!” She makes a noise of surprise, but then she melts into him, hands lifting to rest on his chest, then caressing around to link behind his neck.

When they part she gives a small, sad smile and says, “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight.”

“I was being an idiot,” Levi grunts, and he helps her to her feet. “A selfish idiot.”

“No you weren’t, Levi. It’s a lot to take in, I know,” her thumb brushes his lower lip. “I love you.”

Hour 9

The words are difficult to speak, so he shows her out he feels. He shows her in the reverent way he peels her clothes from her body, the rough, desperate caress of his touch, the slide of his thin lips over her chin and collarbones and breasts.

He holds her hips and kisses from her navel to her abdomen, and he kisses her there too because despite everything he does want this baby. He loves this baby already, because it is him and it is Hange. The best of the both of them taking shape in her womb.

Levi abandons all gentleness as he makes love to her. It is animal. Primal. His hands will leave bruises on her hips, and his lips suck hers swollen.

When he finishes, just after her, he doesn’t bother to pull out. It doesn’t matter anymore. And as he pumps himself into her he whispers raspy and desperate into her sternum, “I love you.”

The words hurt in such a sublime way. He’s never said them before, not once in his life. But here he is, speaking them, meaning them, bleeding them from his soul into hers.

He loves her, and he’ll love this baby, too.

Hour 10

They lay in bed, Hange’s fingers comb rhythmically through his hair, and she presses the occasional kiss to his crown.

Levi has one arm wound around her waist, his cheek pressed into her sternum, his other hand cupping her abdomen, thumb caressing gentle circles into the skin there.

“I know you’re afraid,” Hange finally speaks. Her voice is soft and loaded with emotion. “I am, too. But I think we deserve this, Levi. It’s a chance for a life beyond the Survey Corps, for a real family.”

Levi tilts his head up and kisses her gently. She’s right, but he still cannot help but remember his vision and his nightmare.

“There’s so much that could go wrong,” his voice is pained. He holds her tighter.

Hange sighs and rests her cheek on his head, “You’re not wrong, but we’ve got eight months to figure things out, okay? For tonight, just hold me.”

Levi sighs and melts into her, shutting his eyes.

In Hange’s arms his sleep is dreamless.

#levihan #my writing

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quackiseok · 3 years

Text

— the night before spring

c! karlnapity x reader `` poly! au || oneshot

genre : angst

warnings : swearing, memory loss, fainting

summary : a beach trip the four of you planned to seek remedy, yet it ceased with another tragedy. [based on the time traveler lore]

a/n : hello! while i'm working on a headcanon, i offer you this drabble! i hope you cry liked it! 👀 and im so sorry for the plain writting, i will try my best to improve OTL

song to listen to while reading :

As the shorelines wash out the footsteps that were left behind, loud laughter filled the fresh air of the east side beach, colliding its melody with the sound of sea waves hitting the seaside.

'This day finally came, huh.' You thought to yourself, the smile you had never leaving your lips.

"It feels so nice to be away from the world." A sigh of relief escaped from Sapnap's lips as he placed his palms on the back of his head, allowing the warm breeze to brush against his bare chest.

You let out a hum, agreeing with your own of your boyfriends. Things have been exhausting for the four of you lately, especially after the town of L'manberg was demolished into ashes.

It was a miracle that the four of you somehow managed to get some time alone amidst the chaos arising in the SMP. Either way, you've never felt this thankful before.

"Yeah, things have been shitty lately." Alex sighed out loudly, recalling the horrid events that happened previously. His eyes were glazed with distress, but he hid it underneath a smile.

"Hey, let's just think about us in this place, yeah? Let's forget everything for a while."

Karl lightheartedly replied as he clung an arm around Alex's bare shoulders, offering comfort as the four of you kept going ahead with no direction.

Hints of sorrow rushed through your body for a second, comprehending the stress that all of you had to go through. You reached out your hand, gently wrapping your fingers around Alex's, attempting to comfort him as well.

What did they ever do to deserve this kind of pain?

As Alex replied with a chuckle and tightened his grasp on your hand, Sapnap wrapped his arm around your waist and bought himself closer to the three of you.

'When was the last time I was this happy?' You questioned yourself.

The silence returned in the air as time passed by, only the sounds of the ocean could be heard. Nonetheless, the four of you didn't mind at all.

The silent was peaceful, something you would love to listen to before being driven to sleep.

It's been a while since last you felt this kind of bliss rushing through your veins, it was something you've been yearning for in your daydreams.

Shivers ran down your spines as the breeze on your skin started growing colder, the four of you unconsciously drawing your bodies closer to gain more warmth from each other. The scenery was mesmerizing— its dazzling orange light covering the sky and the top of the ocean, the comforting smell of sea filling the atmosphere, the stunning clouds that lazily float in the air. It felt unreal to you, making you wish that you could stop the time from ticking. You can't imagine a better scenario than this one— spending a part of your life with your boyfriends in such an ethereal place.

For once in your life, it felt like the universe was finally on your side.

"–KARL!"

Alex barked out of the blue, making you flinch in fright from the unexpected loud clatter.

What the hell is happening?

You felt your heart dropped to your stomach as you were greeted by the sight of Alex holding Karl, who seems to be unconscious, tightly in his arms.

"KARL!" Both you and Sapnap growled simultaneously, scurrying over to the two of them.

"KARL!" You desperately held his arm, hoping for any sort of response from the unconscious boy. The sick feeling on your stomach was not helping either.

"He's breathing! Karl!" Sapnap shouted, struggling to wake Karl up. Nothing.

'No, please, not now,' Your heart ached badly.

Amidst the despair building up inside of you, your blurry eyes caught a glimpse of Karl's eyelids fluttering open weakly.

"KARL!—"

Alex stammered loudly, bringing Karl closer to his embrace.

No words could leave your throat as you felt the rush of relief through your body. With the slight amount of strength left in your body, you buried your face on Karl's shoulder, quietly sobbing as your clutch on his shirt grew tighter than before.

Why do these horrid things keep on happening to the four of you?

Nothing but a soft groan was all he could let out from his throat.

"Karl! Are you okay? What the hell happened?" Sapnap's voice was filled with concern, his gaze never leaving Karl's.

The three of you desperately looked at Karl, waiting for any kind of response from him.

Something about him seems odd to you,

"Karl?" You whimpered out softly, the other two still desperately waiting for any kind of response from the dazed boy.

"W-Who,"

"I-I'm sorry, but w-who are you guys?"

You felt a stung on your heart.

Amidst the terrifying silence, Alex chuckled out nervous laughter. "W-What do you mean who?" A hint of worry could be heard from Alex's cracked voice.

The tone in Karl's voice— it's not a tone of someone who is lying,

"I-I don't recognize any of you."

A sentence has never caused you such immense pain before.

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

Photo

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 1: Fallen!Cas

In A Fortress of Pine Trees | @mistofstars Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,380 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Croatoan, 2014, 5x04, Smut, bottom!Dean, Angst, Top!Cas Summary: Future!Dean / Future!Castiel "Cas", he finally exhales. "I could need one of your amazing hippie massages right now" -it starts with a simple massage and ends somewhere else; Dean gives in to long neglected needs... DESTIEL in 2014

The Warmth of your skin | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,414 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hurt!Cas, First Kiss, Naked Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, no explicit sex, human!Cas Summary: Dean and Castiel are in the middle of a forest, when a snowstorm surprises them in the middle of the summer. To make their luck perfect, Castiel breaks into the ice of a lake. There is only one way to survive this cold. Body Heat.

Are We Human? | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: General Word Count: 3,766 Main Tags/Warnings: human!/fallen!Castiel, first kiss, love confessions, pet cats Summary: After losing his grace, Cas struggles with being human. Dean tries to help him out—and in showing the former angel how to find joy in the little things, starts to find joy himself (if he's brave enough to reach for it). And also discovers that maybe cats aren't so bad.

The End Of The Beginning | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,885 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, endverse, endverse Cas, heat, pwp, S5E4 The End, there's a sequel Summary: He just wished that Zach-y boy had picked a better time. Dean could feel those deep seated aches in his abdomen that could only mean he was a day or so away from his damn heat starting. Hopefully he could learn his little lesson before he had to lock himself away for a few days to keep himself from presenting to every damn alpha in a five mile radius. He usually took suppressants, but dealing with Lucifer had kind of taken front seat just long enough for Dean to miss a few too many doses. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed at his wrists, finally free. He wandered out to see where the hell he was. It was an old summer camp, that much he could tell, but that was about it. But as weird as all this was, as unreal and impossible as it had to be, the most mind blowing part was definitely Cas. Fuzzy, stoned out of his gourd, sex guru to a gathering of betas and omegas Cas. Cas, who smelled so strongly of alpha and everything that Dean had ever wanted that he had to shift himself when the guy wasn't looking to try and hide the quickly growing erection in his pants, praying that he wouldn't slick right through his jeans.

Finally Realized | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,018 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, Dean in heat, human Cas, first time, porn with plot Summary: Dean is sick in bed, so Sam calls in a now-human Cas to come and take care of the cranky patient while he escapes goes on a hunt. Dean cooperates with Cas, but it just figures, when the cold is finally gone, his heat takes its place. Now denial stops being an options as Dean begs Cas for the thing he's always wanted, but could never admit to.

Sweet Cherry Pie | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,801 Main Tags/Warnings: No archive warnings apply, first kiss, first time, friends to lovers, top dean/bottom cas Summary: Dean takes the newly-human Cas to a diner to try some new foods. Cas wants more than a taste.

Tick Tock Goes The Clock | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,784 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, human Cas, alcohol as a coping mechanism, implied mpreg, angst, porn with plot, drunken confessions, drunken sex Summary: It was a well known fact that every omega had a metaphorical biological clock ticking away inside of them, just waiting to spring the alarm and make the poor guy or girl go just a wee bit baby crazy. And as much as Dean Winchester tried to deny it, mostly to himself, the one inside him was gonna blow at any second. Even though Dean would never admit it to anybody, especially his brother, he had always felt pretty maternal towards Lisa's son, Ben. He’d always wanted a nice, big family with plenty of pups of his own, ever since he had presented as an omega as a teenager. At least, whenever John hadn't been pressuring him to act like the alpha his dad thought he should've been, that is. It had only gotten worse when Sam presented as a beta, so Dean had shoved that dream so far back in his mind that he completely forgot about it ninety-five percent of the time. That was exactly why the omega knew that his biological clock was gonna kick his ass any day now. Where he used to mostly forget about the idea of having a bunch of pups, it was now taking up the vast majority of his thoughts lately.

I Been Blind | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,387 Main Tags/Warnings: Human!Cas, porn-watching, masturbation, mutual pining, porn with feelings, suggestion of m/f and m/m/f sex (in porn), oral sex, frottage, anal fingering, suggestion of bottom!Cas. Summary: Castiel is in love with humanity. At least, so long as he's not the one experiencing it. A lighthearted smutty romp wherein Dean helps Cas navigate the tricky minefield of human needs.

Roaming in the Dark (WIP) | @casbelieves

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,624 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Explicit Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Bottom!Cas, Top!Dean, Heavy Angst, Smut, Fallen Angels, Apocalypse, Croatoan Virus, Canonverse, Minor Character Death Summary: A reimagined look into how "The End" came to be. Castiel does not return to heaven after he rescues Dean from his stint in an apocalyptical 2014. The brothers don't reunite. The angels do fall. A dangerous and deadly virus spreads worldwide. But, without fail, Castiel follows Dean and, perhaps, that is his only fault.

Room A Thousand Years Wide | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 34,921 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Getting Together, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester Summary: Once the world and their lives are finally their own, and Cas has chosen humanity once and for all, he begins to find a new routine of daily life with Dean. Sam doesn't know how much longer he can take their apparently oblivious platonic domesticity, when their regularly scheduled evening goes out the window with a single text message from someone they never expected to hear from again. Ex-Ghostfacer Ed Zeddmore is afraid he's stumbled over something too big to let slide, and sends them a link to a potentially dangerous Ghostfacer wannabe, and a case that isn't at all what it appears to be on the surface. What they uncover dredges up a lot of interesting feelings all around, and they must finally face a few ghosts of their own.

Empty Spaces | @thisisapaige

Rating: Mature Word Count: 48,411 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawl, Fallen Castiel, Pre-series Dean, Canonverse, Internalized Biphobia, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort Summary: [Castiel] found the colour. It was a green, one of the few gentle colours at the edges of his dreams and the one he tried to capture in his paintings, never quite finding the right hue. He spent so long chasing the colours, trying to find it though pills and needles, but they always evaded his grasp. Yet he found one, right here, hiding in the eyes of a stranger. He studied the colour, the subtle differences between dark and light, the little flecks of gold nearly hidden in the sea of green, the ring around the outside. He studied it, trying to commit the colour to memory. The other man cleared his throat. “Uh, dude?” Oh. Castiel forgot the colour was attached to a person. ~~~ What if Castiel had fallen before the start of the series and met Dean on a routine hunt? Set in the spring before Dean goes to find Sam in Stanford.

Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron | iCeDreams (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 80,466 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 9 Divergent, Dean in Heaven Summary: Dean realizes that staying in Heaven and catching endless fish isn't living up to its hype. Especially since the gates of Heaven are still closed and there are no angels to guide you in the hereafter. Castiel is surviving Earth, fallen and human until a reaper brings his attention to a hunt forcing him to seek out his fallen brothers.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 1 #fallen!cas #destiel #supernatural #fanfic

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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

In the Prefect’s Bathroom Part 4 // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Guys!!! It's the FINAL part, yay!! I'm super proud of this and I think it's super cute and just AAHH I really hope y'all like it. Lemme know what you think of it and if you expected any of it. Thank you so much for reading, and Happy Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it)

Summary: Draco has been trying to get Y/N to talk to him since he confessed, but he hasn't had any luck. Until, he finds something she left in his dorm.

Warning(s): SMUT! Unprotected sex, lots of fluff, swearing, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist & Taglist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Three weeks had gone by, and now Draco was on his bed, toying with the idea of giving up. Y/N had been avoiding him ever since that day he confessed. No matter how hard he tried to get her to warm back up to him, she kept her distance. He had tried everything. He'd sit next to her in class; she'd move seats. He'd wait outside the Gryffindor tower; she'd strut right past him. It seemed as nothing was working, so of course, he was getting a bit discouraged.

Just a couple days ago, the two of them had been in Charms class, and on his way out, Draco noticed that Y/N had dropped her book. This is my chance, he thought to himself. He quickly bent down to pick it up since he assumed she would've been already halfway down the corridor by the time he got back up. But when he arose from the floor, she was standing right in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest. Draco knew he had to stall for time, try and get her defenses to weaken. He turned the book over in his hands. "The Tales of Beedle and Bard," he read aloud. Y/N blushed and averted her eyes. He opened the cover and read the first few lines to himself.

There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot.

Draco shut the book and said, "I've actually never read them. My father didn't permit me to. Said it was written by a muggle lover. Supposedly he filed an official request to remove it from Hogwarts's shelves." Draco chuckled as he ran his finger along the spine of the light blue book. But his laughter died when he glanced up at Y/N. She looked rather upset, causing Draco to panic and quickly backtrack. "That isn't to say I don't want to read them now. I mean, I'm sure they're not as bad as Father thought they were," he sputtered. Y/N remained silent. "Perhaps... we could read them together, maybe?" he asked hopefully. He knew it was a shot in the dark, but he did it anyway. Draco hadn't heard Y/N's voice in weeks, and it was making him grow desperate.

Softly, she reached out her hand, and Draco held his breath. But then her fingers grasped the book, and the Slytherin felt his heart shatter. He cleared his throat, trying to push away the lump that had formed in it. His grip loosened, and Y/N pulled her book towards her chest. She didn't even look at him before she turned around and rushed down the hallway, leaving Draco feeling stranded, hopeless, and, quite frankly, stupid for even trying.

Since then, he hadn't put in nearly as much effort into rekindling their friendship. It was painfully obvious Y/N wanted nothing more to do with him, and as much as it hurt, Draco had to accept that. But that didn't stop his thoughts. It couldn't. Every night, he would lay awake, worrying. Worrying about Y/N's wellbeing. Was she happy? Did she make any new friends?

Did she still feel alone?

Draco didn't know. From the little he'd seen of her, he assumed she was alright. He hoped she was. But he had no real way of knowing. He had tried reaching out to her roommate multiple times, but all Stephanie would tell him was that she thought Y/N seemed fine, just a bit quiet. That answer never sat well with him. During those few weeks, before he confessed, he had learned so much about Y/N. One of those things being that she was not quiet. She had talked his ear off many times, telling him funny stories from her childhood. Like how, after one of their study sessions, she told him about the time she had made her pet fish turn yellow just by looking at it. Draco remembered that day clearly.

"My mum was terrified! One moment my fish was blue and the next he was yellow! I mean, imagine that." Y/N laughed. Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Sounds like you were quite the little mischief-maker," he replied as he twirled his wand between his fingers, it was becoming a bit of a habit. Y/N continued giggling, kicking her legs as she did so. "You should've seen the look on my dad's face when he got home. That was the day he sat her and me down and told us he was a wizard. My poor mum. She had no idea."

Draco sat up in shock. "Wait, wait, you're a half-blood?" he asked, eyes wide. Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a problem, Malfoy?" she questioned as she began to sit up. Her tone was somewhat threatening. Draco raised his hands to show his lack of ill intention. "No, no. I was just surprised," he quickly explained. Y/N chuckled and waved her hand towards him. "Relax, I'm only playing with you," she assured him. Her words piqued Draco's interest. He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips, staring suggestively into her eyes. "Well, I'd sure like to play with you," he husked. Y/N gasped loudly and swiftly removed the pillow from behind her back and chucked it at the blonde boy sitting across from her. "Draco!" she screeched. "Joking!" he mumbled. "Just joking...unless."

Y/N crossed her arms, and obnoxiously shook her head while clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Draco snickered before throwing the pillow back at her, making her giggle. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her eyes twinkle. She looked unreal to Draco, ethereal almost. However, he was torn from his trance by her continuing the story. "Anyways, as I was saying, my lovely mum had the shock of her life. I was surprised as well. I mean, I had just found out I was a bloody witch. Although I was much more delighted than she was. Come to think of it, she might've cried," Y/N said with a small frown. "Wow..." Draco muttered. "But what does she think of it now? What with you being at Hogwarts and all."

Y/N hummed to herself, recalling that last time she and her mother spoke about Hogwarts. "Well, I think she thinks it's a bit surreal, you know? She always imagined I'd graduate and go off to university to become a doctor or something, but here I am at a school for wizards and witches," she said while gesturing to the castle walls around her. Draco nodded although he was a bit confused. "She just doesn't understand, right?" he asked. Y/N pursed her lips. "I think she will, with time. Maybe I can introduce her to you and your family. Now that would be really fun," she suggested with a mischievous glint in her eye. Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "And why is that?" he questioned, staring at the giggling girl. "Just imagine me introducing you. I'd say, hey mum, this is my best friend and his wizard parents who dress like they're going to a funeral every single day. Oh, and they also own a mansion in the countryside because they're rolling in galleons!" Y/N bellowed, nearly falling over as she clutched her stomach, erupting in laughter.

Draco would've berated her for the slander towards his parents, but his mind was fixated on three words, "My best friend." He waited until Y/N ceased laughing before asking her, "I'm your best friend?" She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Well, duh, you're my only friend, Draco." The Slytherin did his best to hide his blush as he looked to the floor. "You're mine too," he mumbled. But Y/N didn't hear.

Draco sighed as he sat on his bed. He missed her. He wished so badly that she'd walk through his door. But she wouldn't, and he knew that. Slowly, he pushed himself off the green covered mattress and walked over to his wooden desk. A piece of parchment was already on top of it, so he took a seat, and he reached for his ink bottle and quill. His nimble fingers unscrewed the cap, and he dipped the point inside it, drenching it in black liquid. He'd written letters to Y/N many times, but every time he finished one, he'd get scared and chuck it into the bin. Draco knew he'd probably do the same tonight, but he wanted to try. So he pressed his quill to the paper and began.

"Dear Y/N, I hope you are doing well. I'm writing to you to give you my apologies. I should've known better than to confess my feelings for you at such a time. I really hope..." he stilled his hand, not knowing what to say next. His head was reeling as different thoughts and feelings flooded his brain, none of which he knew how to convey in words. She made him so dizzy. But, ever persistent, Draco started again.

"Dear Y/N, Are you doing well? I truly hope that you are. I write to you to tell you that I'm sorry for everything. I said and did so many foolish things that day, and if I could take all of them back, I swear, I would. I know I must've frightened you that day, but Y/N, I fear you don't know how much I miss you. I've never felt this empty before. But I know it's because you're not here. I need you..." Draco, in his frustrated haze, crossed out the last line and crumbled the parchment in his fist. He then tossed it across the room, watching as it hit the wall next to his door, and bounced on the foot of his brass coat rack. He stared at it, thinking about donning his coat and taking a walk around campus. But then, he noticed something underneath. He jumped to his feet and rushed over to the rack. Curious, he lifted his black coat off the hook to reveal a brown cardigan underneath. His chest tightened; it was Y/N's. She must've left it in his room after one of their study sessions. Come to think of it, it was probably from the night before Draco confessed.

Hesitantly, the boy reached out and touched his fingers to the cardigan. It was soft. He lifted it up and held it in his hands, letting his emotions settle. Then, he brought it to his nose, breathing in deeply. It still smelled of her: apples, hazelnut, and cinnamon. Draco felt tears begin to gather in his eyes, but he hastily blinked them away. With care, he hung the cardigan back up and retreated to his desk. He got seated, pulled out a new sheet of parchment, and began writing for the third time that night.

------------

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing to you to inform you that I've discovered your cardigan in my room. The brown one that is. I suppose you left it after our last study session. I can return it to you tomorrow morning at breakfast, or if you'd prefer, you can fetch it tonight. The current password to the Slytherin common room is Jobberknoll. Hopefully, you remember where my bedroom is, but should you have forgotten, it's at the very top of the stairway on your left. Please knock three times before entering.

There's no need to send an owl with your reply. Just make sure to come before 9:30. If you don't, I'll assume you wish to receive the cardigan at breakfast, in which case, I shall wait for you by the door.

Draco

Y/N clutched the parchment tightly in her hands. She had been scared half to death when an owl landed right beside her while she was sitting by the open windows. But now, she was more afraid of getting her cardigan back. She glanced around her room frantically, as if she'd find an answer to her dilemma upon the walls. Her eyes then drifted back to the parchment in her hands. She looked at where Draco had signed his name. Above it was a dark scribble as if he had scratched something out. What did he write there? It was probably just 'sincerely,' but what if it was something else. What if it was 'with love'? Y/N wondered. She closed her eyes; she needed to calm down. There was no way she'd be able to make a rational decision with such thoughts running through her brain.

But Y/N had nobody to consult, nobody to refer to. Ever since she'd pushed Draco away that day, she'd been alone. Her roommate spoke to her on occasion, but only about school-related things. Almost the entirety of her house had shunned her. And the whole school knew what she did, so making friends had proven to be difficult. But because of this, Y/N had been able to do a lot of thinking. Truthfully, she missed Draco. She hated herself for rejecting him that day. She hated herself because she liked him. The only reason she had rejected him was that she knew she wasn't ready for another relationship. And on top of that, she didn't think she deserved one. Draco wasn't someone she deserved, not in her mind.

But here she was, being forced to make a decision. Should she just wait until tomorrow, or should she go to his room? Her brain was telling her to wait until tomorrow; that way, she could take the cardigan, thank him, and be on her merry way. But her heart screamed at her to go to him. Go to him, confess to him, bring him back into her life. Y/N glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. "Fuck," she muttered before pushing off the window seat; her loneliness had gotten the best of her.

She rushed towards her closet and flung the doors open. Her eyes scanned the array of clothing for a few moments before she pulled out her favorite pair of light grey sweatpants along with her pale green crewneck. She threw them on and tucked her wand into her pocket. Then she checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was already pulled back, and she had light mascara on. It was good enough, in her opinion, so she slipped on her shoes and turned her doorknob with a shaky hand.

--------

Draco was sitting in his armchair with a blue book in his hands when he heard three distinct knocks at his door. His breathing began to hasten; surely, it couldn't be... Only one way to find out. "Come in!" he called. The door swung open to reveal Y/N. She looked nervous as all hell but nevertheless, stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her. Neither of them said anything. They simply stared at one another. But luckily, Draco came to his senses. "Right, your cardigan," he said as he dropped his book and stood up. He grabbed the cardigan off the back of his chair and walked over to her, holding out the garment. "Here you are." Y/N took it into her hands and examined it. "Thank you, I thought it was lost forever," she told him with a smile. Draco faltered for a moment. He'd forgotten how sweet her voice was. But then he nodded, and the awkward silence returned. It hung in the air for a few moments before it was broken by the two of them simultaneously blurting out, "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, Y/N," Draco insisted while shifting his eyes to the floor. "I acted like a fool that day a-and I frightened you, and I made you so overwhelmed. I should've known better, and I am so sorry...I've missed you so much," he said, whispering his last few words. Eventually, he found the courage to look up, and when he did, he saw that Y/N was crying. His heart clenched, and he felt regret pool in his gut. But before he could apologize again, Y/N spoke up.

"I've missed you too, Draco. And I'm not sorry I rejected you that day, I'm sorry that I kicked you out of my life. I thought I was protecting myself because I just knew I would've gone back on my decision if I had let you stay. I liked you too, I still do, but I just wasn't ready. You're too good to be true. I don't deserve a second chance; I don't deserve you. But you didn't deserve to be shut out, and I really hope you can forgive—"

Y/N was cut off by Draco smashing his lips against hers. He held her face in his hands as she gasped, allowing him to sneak his tongue out and run it along her lower lip. She moaned into his mouth as he started to nibble. His hands traveled downwards until they settled on her hips. He pulled her closer and groaned when his hips touched hers. God, how he had missed this. Then, Y/N reached up and ran her hands through his hair, successfully messing it up. Draco knew he wanted more but pulled away from her lips. She breathed heavily and looked into his eyes, puzzled as to why he stopped.

"You're mine...right?" Draco asked anxiously. Y/N smiled and pulled him close for another soft kiss. "I'm yours," she whispered. Draco kissed her again, and she eagerly returned it. Hesitantly, Draco sneaked his hand underneath her shirt, merely letting it sit there against her hot skin as he slipped his tongue into her mouth again. Then, he began to slide his hand up her torso, all while paying attention to her reactions. She seemed to be kissing him harder as he gently ran his thumb along the underside of her breast. He took that as a sign he was doing good, so he placed his hand on top of it and squeezed. Y/N let out a loud moan and pulled away from the kiss. "Draco, please," she whined. He snickered as he studied her pleading face. "What do you need, princess?" he asked in a sultry voice. Y/N squirmed and continued to whine. Draco clicked his tongue. "Always so scared to tell me what you want. There's no need to be embarrassed. I'll give you whatever you want. I just need you to tell me," he reminded her gently. She bit her lip and stared at the floor before finally answering.

"I wanna have sex with you," she whispered. Her face was crimson. Draco felt his heart squeeze; she was too cute. He put his hand underneath her chin and tilted it upwards. A gentle kiss was planted on her lips. "I wanna have sex with you too, darling," he murmured. Y/N couldn't hide her smile as she swiftly took his hand and led him to the bed. Draco smirked and, with sneaky hands, pushed her onto the bed, making her squeal. "Draco!" she yelled with her back now pressed against the mattress. The Slytherin wasted no time; he jumped on top of her while mimicking a roar, causing Y/N to burst into laughter. Her laugh was music to his ears.

Draco tugged her shirt up and off her body, throwing it to the floor. His hands immediately traveled to her back where he unclasped her bra, throwing that away too. Draco felt his dick twitch in his pants upon seeing her nipples harden in the cold air. He leaned down and latched his lips onto one of them while twisting the other between his fingers. Y/N's gasp sent a shiver down his spine, and he sucked her even harder.

"Draco..." she moaned. Draco let go of her tits and sat up, admiring her flushed face. Then Y/N suddenly sat up and grasped the bottom of his shirt and proceeded to yank it off him. Draco only watched as she did this. Her hands then traveled to his pants. She unzipped him and pushed his waistband down, exposing his briefs. He helped her out by maneuvering himself off his knees so that he could kick his pants off.

Once the pants joined the rest of the clothes, Y/N reached for the top of his underwear. But before she could go any further, Draco stopped her. She looked at him, confused as to why he wouldn't want her to touch him. "Tonight is about you, darling. Lie back for me now," Draco instructed. Y/N's face turned red, but she did as she was told and lowered her body onto the bed. Draco's hands grasped her pants, and he slowly pulled them down, stopping to press kisses to her thighs as he went. They were both in only their underwear now, and he could see Y/N was getting impatient. "Speak princess, what do you want?" Draco asked. Y/N pressed her thighs together and rolled her hips a bit before she spoke. "Finger me, please," she begged. Draco smiled at her and immediately pressed his fingers to her pussy, still covered by her panties.

"So polite," he purred as he gently rubbed her clit through her underwear. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. "That feel good, princess?" Draco asked. Y/N nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but a long moan quickly replaced the words on her tongue as Draco applied more pressure to her nub. He continued to swirl his finger around it for a couple minutes, then he slid a different finger past her panties and slowly pushed it inside, feeling her thighs clench as he did so. "So tight," he mumbled before leaning down and giving her a sweet kiss. The intrusion of another finger caused her to gasp into his mouth. Draco groaned and pressed down on her clit, making her hips jump.

"Did you miss this? Did you miss my fingers inside you and my kisses on your body?" he questioned as he thrusted into her. Y/N clenched her walls around his digits and nodded eagerly. "So much. So fucking much," she mewled. Draco added another finger and increased his pace. He noticed Y/N's breathing beginning to get quicker, and he knew she was close. So he finger-fucked her hole for a minute more before withdrawing his hand. Y/N cried out in frustration and glared at him angrily. "Why did you do that?" she whined.

But then, without warning, Draco lifted up her shirt and pressed his lips to her soft stomach, blowing a raspberry onto it. Y/N instantly screamed and wiggled violently underneath him. "STOP, STOP!" she shrieked, trying to get away as her giggles became uncontrollable. Eventually, Draco took mercy on her and ceased his torment. He leaned up to see Y/N was out of breath, and her hair was a mess. "Quit playing games and put your dick inside me, you twat," she ordered. Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "If you say so," he muttered, taking his cock out of his underwear. Y/N's eyes widened, but before she could say or do anything, Draco slid all the way inside her, burying his dick in her pussy. "Ohhh, fuck," she moaned. Draco grunted as he adjusted to the tightness of her hole. He had the instinct to begin slamming into her, but he controlled his urges and allowed her body to adapt to him as he positioned his hands next to her head.

Y/N's walls clenched around him, and she bucked her hips. "Move, please," she pleaded softly. "As you wish," Draco said as he slowly pulled himself out and thrusted back in, setting a slow but consistent pace. Y/N let out quiet mewls as he moved in and out. Her legs found their way to his waist, and they quickly wrapped around it. This pulled him closer and forced his dick deeper inside her. "Fuck," Draco moaned as he leaned down for a kiss while continuing to thrust. Y/N hummed into his mouth and flicked her tongue against his. "Shit, you feel so good," she purred. Draco's cock twitched at her words, and he increased his pace. A harsh grunt escaped him as Y/N reached up and dug her nails into his back. "You're so gorgeous, Y/N," he breathed. "So goddamn gorgeous."

Suddenly, Draco's sensual thrusts were halted by Y/N calling his name. "Yes, darling?" he replied. "You can be rough, I don't mind," she told him gently. Draco smiled down at her and pressed quick kisses along her jaw. "I know, but I can do that another night. Right now," he angled his head so that his lips were by her ear, "I'm making love to you," he whispered, feeling her shudder beneath him.

Y/N's eyes grew soft, and she moved her hands to his face. "You're perfect," she mumbled before pulling his lips to hers, where they shared a passionate kiss. "So perfect." Draco started to thrust again, resuming his slower pace. The force of his cock rocked the couple back and forth on the plush pillows. But then, he had an idea.

He moved his hands from their spot beside Y/N's head, slid them underneath her back, and lifted her up. "Shit," she cursed as she was now on Draco's lap, his dick still buried deep inside her. Slowly, Draco raised her off him and turned her around so that her back was facing him. He then repositioned her hips above his cock and gently lowered her onto it. "Ohhh," she moaned as she once again became full. She was about to lift herself up and fuck herself on his dick, but Draco's hands stopped her. He pushed her legs wide and placed his hand over her pussy. This didn't please Y/N. She started to squirm and buck her hips forward, causing Draco to groan as she stimulated his cock. "Stay still, princess. I'll take care of you," he assured her. His fingers pressed against her heat and slowly spread the upper lips, exposing her clit. With his other hand, he touched his fingers to her nub and slowly began to circle it. Y/N's head fell back onto his shoulder, and a long, deep groan escaped her throat.

"Oh my god," she whimpered as her breathing became ragged. Draco's hands never stopped or stuttered, not even when Y/N's walls squeezed him tight. He just kept rubbing and rubbing; her soft pants sounded like heaven to him. Suddenly, Y/N's thighs began to tense. "Draco, fuck, I'm close," she muttered. Draco turned his head and once again hovered his lips next to her ear. "Cum on me. Cum with me buried inside you," he ordered. Y/N gasped and rolled her head on his shoulder. He could tell she was almost there. "Oh, god. Fuck, fuck, fuck, just a little more," she begged.

Draco kept circling her clit until finally, she inhaled sharply, and her walls clenched him hard. His finger didn't stop; it continued to rub her throughout her high. It only ceased when Draco felt her body jolt from overstimulation. He then pushed her forward onto her hands and knees and began pounding into her, chasing his own climax. The sounds of skin slapping combined with the tightness of Y/N's pussy lit a fire in Draco's abdomen, and soon, he was pushed over the edge. "Cumming," he warned her before he released inside Y/N with a deep groan. The couple remained in that position for a good minute, breathing heavily. Then Draco pulled himself out and laughed as Y/N immediately collapsed face-first onto his bed. He gently flipped her over and kissed her cheek. "You alright, darling?" he asked. She smiled and turned to him. Then, without thinking, she blurted, "I think I love you." Immediately, Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth. But Draco only grinned and said, "I love you too, Y/N."

She lowered her hand and averted her eyes as blush filled her cheeks. "Draco, are we..." she trailed off, looking apprehensive. "Boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked. Y/N nodded. "I'd love to be your boyfriend, darling," he said sweetly. In less than a second, Draco was attacked by a forceful hug from Y/N. He wrapped his arms around her still naked body and held her close, breathing in her scent: apples, hazelnut, and cinnamon.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," she said softly. "I don't know what I would've done with myself if you had just stopped caring one day," Y/N confessed. Draco gently pulled away from the hug and cradled his girlfriend's face in his hands. "I never would've stopped caring. Y/N you were all I thought about," he assured her. He watched as her tears began to fall from her eyes. "Don't cry, sweetheart, I'm here now; I've got you. There's no need to cry," he said sweetly, trying to comfort her. But Y/N kept on crying, so he dragged a blanket over his lap and pulled her on top of it. "Look at me, darling," he instructed lightly. She rubbed her tears away with her arm and looked into Draco's eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much. Do not waste your tears on the mistakes of the past. All that matters is that I've got you, and you've got me. Alright?" Y/N continued to wipe her tears and nodded. "Alright. I love you too," she replied.

Draco pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, slid her off his lap, and stood up from the bed. He grabbed some tissues and cleaned himself off before doing the same for Y/N. Then he pulled on his underwear and tossed Y/N hers. As she was getting dressed, Draco strode over to his armchair. In the seat of it sat a small blue book. He picked it up and took it with him as he went back to bed. Y/N was already under the covers; she looked at him quizzically when she noticed the object in his hand. Her mouth opened to speak, but Draco quickly shushed her. He slid under the covers and cozied up next to Y/N. Then, he cracked open the book, cleared his throat, and began to read.

"There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot."

The End

Taglist: @beiahadid @pastelpuffbar @cutie1365 @dracoxmgg @lumlfy @sambucky8 @emilianamason @orangecrayon @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hustlinhufflepuff @goddessofgames @dracocanslytherin8 @superbturtlemakerathlete @raplinethereal @mllzhxrrz44 @dixiethemorab24 @prongsandprancer @azkabanlexi

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milkbaer · 3 years

Text

Eye of the Storm | Part 2

Summary: It was true, Nikolai might indeed be a fool but he just couldn’t let go of you.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Tidemaker fem!Reader

Warning: angst (don’t worry there’s fluff)

Wordcount: 5.7k

A/N: Again, thank you so, so much @sumsebien bien for your help and input! It helped me a lot 😊 I promise, this one isn’t as heart-breaking.

Your heart felt like collapsing, imploding and crumbling into pieces. This wasn’t a good idea, it couldn’t be, it was the most stupid thing you’d ever agreed to, and yet your body felt like all its butterflies would lift you up in the air. But he was a prince and you Grisha. This – this wouldn’t work. Hesitating your fingers still lingered on the cords of your stays, contemplating if this was the right thing to do, if you really wanted it.

You heard the splashing of water and a loud, cheerful yell. Quickly you turned around to see the tsarevich’s butt disappear in the chill water of the lake. Even for a summer day, especially when it had been rather hot, the water felt cold. It was both damned and refreshing. Undressed to your stays and chemise you still stood there on the shore, watching mesmerized the prince diving into the water. Nikolai emerged with a loud and excited yell. Pushing the damp hair out of his face he saw you standing there where you stood before. He wanted to see you here in the water, with him. But his adolescent mind had him making ogly eyes at you standing there at the moonlight shore in nothing but your stays and chemise. Claiming that he had never wanted to know what was under the kefta would have been a big fat lie. But seeing you now, all he thought was that it was much better than everything he had imagined.

“Did the tidemaker become a chickenmaker?” He teased you with a grin, it wasn’t the best he had to offer but it had come quickly.

“Shut up! I’m still contemplating!” You told him. If someone were to tell you that one day you would be skinny dipping with a prince, you would never have believed them. Never would you’ve thought to fall in love with a prince and he with you. You didn’t even know how it happened. One second, you hadn’t a clue who the tsarevich was and the next he stuck to you like glue.

“About swimming with a prince?” Nikolai grinned, taking some strokes towards the shore.

“About swimming with a fool.”

“Many would die just to go swimming with me. Let alone swimming with me naked to go skinny dipping with me, you know. I’m quite popular and very charming, or so I heard,” he said, grin never leaving his face. If you’d asked him, he would gladly watch you step into the water with your chemise and after, to prevent you from freezing and catching a cold, he would wrap you into his shirt and coat.

“They must’ve told you lies then!” But he was indeed very charming and handsome, and kind. You looked at him, a golden spot in the silver water. Truly he was storybook material, even more than any fairytale could wish for. Gnawing on your lower lip, thinking more about how much you wanted this rather than if it was a good idea, you slowly untied the strings of your chemise. Finally, Nikolai heard the words he had been waiting for. “Turn around and don’t look!”

With a happy smile he did as you asked. “I wouldn’t even dare, moya milaya!”

Cheeks burning hot, not only from the mere thought of approaching him naked as a newborn, you threw your stays onto the ground, next to your kefta. And when the chemise hit your ankles, you made a run for the water, hissing when your toes sunk into the cool. When Nikolai heard the familiar sound of moving through the water and your hisses and giggles, he couldn’t help but smile. Never had his grin been wider. And never had he been more anxious. He felt like heart would explode that very second.

“May I look now?” Nikolai grinned, turning around before he got an answer. His smile fell when he saw nothing but the shimmering water of the lake. Where were you? Surely you must be in the water, but he saw nothing. The moment the prince decided to dive down himself he heard you gasp for air behind him. Relieved and happier than getting his favourite dessert he watched you looking for him, frantically calling for him. Grinning devilishly, he thought about playing a game with you, which would fall short as soon as you brushed all your hair out of your eyes. But he did it anyway.

“Marco.”

“Nikolai?” You turned into his direction, still blind like a bat.

“You’ve to say Polo, not Nikolai. But I like hearing you say my name, love.” He knew it was very wanton of him saying all these things as a teen. Speaking of love was probably to early but whatever he felt with you, he didn’t want to let it go.

“Ha ha, very funny.” As soon as you could see again, you saw everything except him. Nikolai had sounded so close, but that bastard dived down. Maybe you should just wait and dip your head back when his breath would get short, and he emerges again. It would be fun, a fun little game. But instead of waiting, you dived down looking for him. Diving with your eyes open wasn’t the most pleasant experience but it allowed you to see Nikolai, all of him – maybe too much of him. But he also looked beautiful, more than he did on land. His blond hair, glistening and floating in the water, looked like liquid gold. Nikolai looked like a saint with a golden halo. Like a saint that was giving you the cutest smile you’ve ever seen.

Never ever had Nikolai seen a real siren or mermaid. He heard of them in stories knowing that they weren’t real. Even the fish people of Fjerda sounded unreal to him. Never did he understood how brazen privateers and adventurers could be lured and lurked by the simple sound and beauty of sirens. But when he saw you, floating in the water, hair loose and swirling around, simply looking like the most beautiful thing he has ever witnessed, he believed that the tales were true. You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t grisha. You were a mermaid that could lure him to his doom, and he would gladly, knowingly follow.

Motioning with your finger to pop up Nikolai nodded and followed you to surface. You both gasped for air and you gladly took the chill of the summer night. Taking in some moments of tranquility, enjoying the night air and the calming sound of the lake, you heard Nikolai approaching. For some reasons you didn’t feel like facing him yet. Not after what you’d ve seen under the water. But you didn’t need to.

One moment Nikolai was roughly a meter away and the other he’s cupping your cheek, meeting your lips in a wet and hungry kiss. His lips tasted different through the sweet lake’s water. Surprised you moaned into the kiss, your hands desperately searching for something to hold. You wouldn’t drown and yet if you didn’t grasp him, it felt like you would.

Never had he kissed you like that before. Kisses often had been sloppy, short and sweet. Even the one where Nikolai had stolen you into the dark corner of the hallway, kissing you desperately like his life depended on it, tousling your hair and pressing into you, felt different. You two were too young to know that real love was. But this kiss? It felt like he was pouring all his love and adoration, and something ungraspable into it.

Both panting for air, the embrace had felt like a good eternity, you expected him to grin. Nikolai always smiled after kissing you. He didn’t, not this time. All he did was pant and stare, lips red and lightly swollen, golden strands sticking to his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile either.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, unable to say more. His brain felt like it had been shut down. You wanted to say the same about him, Nikolai deserved it, he looked amazing himself. The image of his golden hair floating around him and his smile, you couldn’t forget it. But instead of telling him you caught his lips in a loving, but far lighter kiss. It had been short and sweet, and nothing like the kiss you shared moments before. Your lips lingered over his, ready to embrace them a second time.

“Do you tell that every girl you meet?” Knowing how sincere he was you hated yourself for asking this. It just slipped. Plus, he was a prince and like he said, no one would refuse going skinny dipping with him. Why should you be the first? You hated yourself for suddenly thinking so lowly of him. It was like your friends’ words, who had warned you falling for a prince, got to your brain.

“No, just myself every morning.”

“So, you have never done this before?” You asked, hesitating.

Nikolai grinned, brushing his lips against yours. “Oh no, I have. Dominik and I sometimes go for a swim here.

“Y/N I – I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone, but you and I don’t want to.”

He kissed you again. It was different from the first one, different from the ones in the hallway. His fingers brushed some wet strands out of your face only to push some of them back seconds later. Like yours, his fingers didn’t know what to do, where to go or what to grasp. It was a mess, but he wanted to show you, to express something he had never felt before. Was this love? He had no idea. But what he felt with you, for you, he wanted you to know and feel that way. Forever.

. . .

Saying that you were confused was a kind understatement. One moment, you drowned the only person you’ve ever loved and the next you began to fall asleep. You weren’t dead, even though you should be. Neither were you in shackles. A stupid decision considering you were on a ship and surrounded by water. Your body was aching, which must have come from laying on the hard wooden floors for hours, maybe days. But when you watched a tear, and another, followed by more, falling to the ground, hitting the rigid stone floor you slowly realized that you weren’t on a ship anymore. Unless the ship had cells made of stone.

Your back was aching, as was your heart mourning the decisions you had made, mourning the death of your love, mourning him. In your mind, you saw him drowning again, swallowed by rage and pain. It was necessary you told yourself, well, you lied. But your heart was hurting so much. You hated yourself. He might not have cared for you but … you did for him, still, after all this time.

Hot tears streamed over your cheeks, dripping onto the ground. What was happening? Were you on a ship, on the ground? Were you dead? You didn’t know.

“I hope those tears are for me.”

Dazed, your head shot up to see the blonde prince you thought you had killed. Perched on a barrel, head resting in his hand, he watched you, probably the whole time. You angrily wiped your tears away, but they didn’t stop coming. Seeing him made your heart race and your head spin.

How was that possible? He’s supposed to be dead.

“It’s almost like The Princess and the Barbarian isn’t it?” Nikolai said, getting up from his barrel to crouch in front of your cell. His face looked grim, and his eyes told of his pain. You wondered how he had survived and whether he had watched you all this time. “Only less fun.”

“Where am I?” You asked, having the slight suspicion that you might be on land. Some place where you shouldn’t be. Some place that meant death for you.

“Os Alta.”

You were in the palace cells? They dragged you all the way from the True Sea to Os Alta? Asleep? You didn’t like this feeling, knowing you had been unconscious for weeks among people who wished to kill you. “You dragged me to the capital? For what? To see me hanged in front of the king?”

Truly you were a coward. Killing was remorseful but you did it, you risked killing your love. You did it, or so you thought. But getting killed yourself? The thought of a noose around your neck, fire scorching your skin, or a sword driven into your heart scared you. It was what you deserved; you knew that. But you didn’t want to die.

“Why didn’t you just let me die? Why drag me all the way here to kill me?” You wept.

The tears didn’t even think of running dry, they just kept coming, making your cheeks all wet, sticky and hot. Nikolai stretched his arm through the bars, but you were too far away for him. He couldn’t even catch a strand of hair if he wanted to.

“Why didn’t you kill me at the sea? Your crew should’ve killed me on that ship!” You cried, sniffling and hiccupping in the process. Nikolai’s lips were sealed, and they stayed that way, watching you weep on the cell’s floor. Seeing you cry wasn’t a nice view. It wasn’t romantic or beautiful, it was ugly and gruesome.

Through your tears, you watched him get up. You expected him to leave, to let you cry alone in the king’s prison, waiting for you death. Instead, you watched him do the opposite. Silent he walked through the cell. You backed away, back hitting the wall when he came to crouch down for you.

“You’re right. I should’ve killed you,” he finally said. “That would’ve been the smart thing to do.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You whispered.

“Looks like people were right. I’m not as smart as I thought.” Nikolai showed you the faintest hint of a smile.

“I can’t watch you cry,” he suddenly said, reaching out to cup your cheeks, only for you to flinch. He hesitated and waited for you to slowly give in the touch. And when you did, allowing for him to hold your head, his thumb gently wiped your tears away. “Even now, it pains me more than it should.”

Your lips quivered, your heart racing, you didn’t know what to do. It would’ve been easier if he hated you, you did after what you’d done. It all would’ve been easier if you didn’t love him still. But your heart was longing for him and there was nothing that you could do.

“And I can’t watch you die.”

Nikolai caught you by surprise, his lips did. His one hand followed the other, cupping your cheeks, keeping you in place and pushing you towards him. His lips were dry, chapped even, and the kiss desperate but intense. It reminded you of the time where he kissed you in the shadows of the hallway. But this kiss wasn’t full of love and adoration, it was all pain and grief. Nikolai’s lips caught yours again and again, kissing you senseless, as if he had to make sure that you were real. Either he was afraid of you being nothing but a ghost or he made up for all the years he didn’t taste your lips. They tasted like salt, a flavour he was willing to take if it meant for you to stop crying.

Nikolai gasped for air, mumbling stupid apologies. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have …”

Your mind was gone. Simply gone. But your heart was aching for more, not caring for his excuses. Nikolai didn’t seem to care either. He mumbled all these words, close to yours lips, but he couldn’t contain himself. His lips caught yours yet again before he even realized it. Afterwards he kissed your cheeks, desperately trying to dry your tears.

“Nikolai,” you breathed, pushing him away gently. “You–We can’t. We can’t do this, I tried to kill you. I almost killed you.”

“But you wouldn’t do it again. I know you and even if you would, that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, still holding onto you until you pushed him away further. “Maybe you’d do it for Ravka, but I’d do the same.”

You looked him in the eyes, hazel but full of hope and sorrow. Did he really long for you, yearned the way you did for him? But you could do this. You were his prisoners, his murderer. “No, Nikolai, you don’t understand. I tried to kill you.”

“And yet, you didn’t succeed. I’m standing before you, handsome and smart as ever, as you can see.” He winked at you but that only made you angry.

“How can you still love me after all that I’ve done?” You asked him, sounding angry and desperate, ready to shed more tears.

The prince shrugged. “I just do,” he said, a rueful smile on his lips. “It’s hard to resist you.”

“Stop!” You cried. “Why are you all doing this? You know I deserve the most gruesome death for what I did. I committed treason, I betrayed you. There’s no way out, we can’t change the past Nikolai!”

His ease wavered, fading away. He looked like the man outside of your cell, before he kissed you, grim and heartbroken. “You’re not my prisoner. Call me a fool or whatever you please. I’m not going to kill you.”

“You’re a fool.” But so were you.

. . .

How long have you been waiting? One year? Two? You lost count of the days Nikolai had been gone. One day you laid in bed together, dreaming about what the future had in store for you, and the next he was gone. You knew he would eventually go to study in Ketterdam. But he had vanished without a word, without a letter. It was like Nikolai had never existed. How long and hard had you cried that day? You could hardly recall. All you knew was that you kept your eyes westbound. Somewhere there, somewhere beyond the western coastline of Ravka was Nikolai.

After that day, your friends began hating their tsarevich, feeling vindicated in their beliefs of him toying with you. Even though he was of noble blood they called him a bastard, telling you that you were better off without him. He probably already had another lover, telling them the exact same lies as he told you. But you couldn’t stop praying for his safety and well-being. You couldn’t stop wishing for him to come back.

When you heard the shuffling of feet behind you, your heart leaped in your chest. But when you turned around you didn’t see the warm face of the man you longed for. Standing behind you was your general. You had no idea what he was doing here, had he looked for you or was this all an accident? General Kirigan had never really talked with you. Your skills had never really been of importance to him.

“My general?” You asked him faintly, not really knowing what else to say. It probably was all an accident, and he just came here to admire the view, not to talk to you. How embarrassing.

General Kirigan settled himself beside you, staring into the width without looking at you once. It must have been pure coincidence then. Not that you felt like talking with him in general. “Are we admiring the view or crying about lost love?”

His words shocked you and when he turned to you, dark, depthless eyes staring into your own, you were at a loss for words. How should you respond to that? You gaped at him, General Kirigan, most powerful Grisha of Ravka, and you could do nothing else but stare at him like a dumb fish.

Did he know?

How did he know?

Kirigan stared back into the opens, not really focusing on anything. “He won’t come back.”

That snapped you out of your daze. You felt rage bubbling up, how dare he say something like this? Sure, Nikolai hadn’t visited or written for years now, but how dare he? Even as your general he had no right to say something like that. “You’ve no right to say that.”

“Oh?” He merely glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “You surprise me Y/N. You truly do.– Never have I thought for you to be so foolish. You disappoint me.”

You froze.

“He’s a stupid little prince, not fit for a Grisha.”

Never would you’ve suggested that Nikolai wouldn’t be fit for you but rather you were no match for him. Still grasping for the last bits of love and the idea of him returning to you, you burst. “You have no right to speak about him like that! Nikolai is one of the smartest people I know! You don’t know him; not like I do. So don’t speak of him as if you do!”

Surprised, brows raised, Kirigan faced you again. Truly he hadn’t expected for you to be that stupid. But it was nice to see that after two years, you were still trapped in the claws of this star-crossed love. Foolish little tidemaker.

The way he stared at you, dark eyes eating you up, swallowing you into a puddle of nothingness and obscurity, scared you. What you did had been a mistake, clearly. You shouldn’t lash out at him – but … Nikolai. Even as your general, if Nikolai didn’t love you anymore and had forgotten about you, he had no right to say these words.

“Oh, you think I’ve no right?” He said, dangerously low and brooding. For probably being enraged he was eerie calm and it scared you. “You think I know nothing?” He breathed, eyes swallowing you fully, letting you drown in their abyss.

Always you had respected your general but never had you feared him, not like today. Your heart was racing, feeling like it would combust any second. You didn’t dare to breathe.

“You think I am a fool, like you?”

Suddenly he was coming closer, and you were frozen to the ground, unable to escape. Your general was standing before you, far too close and yet you did nothing, except for shaking and drowning in his eyes. If Nikolai was a too clever fox, Kirigan was a hungry wolf, and you were nothing but the stupid prey.

Kirigan’s fingers were digging into your cheeks, holding you in place. You whimpered at the sudden pain. “You know that the problem with wanting is?” He whispered, hot breath fanning your ear. As if he expected an answer from you, he made a pause, even though you couldn’t really do that. “It makes us weak. And I don’t want you to be weak.”

“You better forget him.” Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. I know you’re better than that. Wake up, darling. He’s never coming back. Not for Ravka, not for you.”

Tears began forming but you didn’t want them to run, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. “He doesn’t know how it is to be Grisha. He doesn’t know your pain. He doesn’t know you,” he whispered dangerously low into your ear. “But I do. And unlike him, I can make you powerful. You can have anything, Y/N and you deserve everything.”

. . .

It felt weird sleeping in your own bed after you had laid in a cell, where you technically belonged. Nikolai said you weren’t his prisoner, but you couldn’t go back to normal. Even if he forgave you, which he apparently did, you couldn’t forgive yourself.

Not yet.

Maybe never.

Even worse, your mind was a mess, unclear of what to think. You should feel more than happy that Nikolai accepted you with open arms, visiting you every day, looking like he did when you were freshly in love. But your mind wandered back to him, the Darkling. He was different from Nikolai. He used to be your mentor, not your lover. You feared him, and yet he made you a better Grisha, a powerful tidemaker. And yet, you were thinking of going back. If he was alive, he either thought of you as dead or traitorous. But could you really just go back? Honestly you didn’t know if you wanted to but staying here didn’t feel right either.

A knock on your door interrupted your troubled mind. You sat upright in your bed expecting either servants or Nikolai, since they were the only ones who visited you these days. Not even your friends came to greet you, but it wasn’t like you felt ready to face them all. Nikolai peaked inside, grinning like a cheeky schoolboy ready to play the biggest prank of his life. “Are you ready for your daily dose of handsomeness?” He asked, winking at you. But when he came closer, seeing the expression on your face, his mood dropped.

Nikolai plopped himself onto your bed, taking your hands in his, stroking it gently with love. “You’re not my prisoner,” he said.

You sighed, if it was only that. “I know,” you said. You weren’t his prisoner. You were your own prisoner. Deep inside you were glad that he still loved you and didn’t hand you over to death. But it felt weird roaming these halls freely knowing that you’ve done.

He eyed you intensively, brows scrunched in concentration, maybe your face would tell him what was troubling you. The whole prison-thing wasn’t all, and it didn’t take long for him to decipher it. “That’s not the only thing,” he mumbled, more to himself than you. Nikolai knew you for years, he could read your face like an open book. His brows shot up in disbelief, you couldn’t be serious. “You’re thinking about him?”

Averting your eyes, you remained silent. Even the smallest notion of returning to the general felt like a bad idea and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe switching sides to the dark forces was what you deserved.

“Are you thinking of returning to him?” Nikolai asked, letting out a choked laugh.

He let out a shaky sigh, running his finger through his blonde hair. Suddenly the cheeky schoolboy, the glorious prince was gone. Sitting with slumped shoulders, Nikolai looked awfully defeated, as if he had just lost a fight to the Darkling. In a sense, he did. Taking you away, far away and letting you rest and rethink everything made him think that you had returned to your senses, that the tables had turned. That you committed treason out of spite and not true belief. He thought the day in the cell, your talk, your kiss had made you change your mind. But what a fool he had been.

The Darkling had won. He hadn’t got hold of Ravka but to something even more dear to Nikolai.

You.

“If you want to go back to him, if it’s what you truly desire, I will let you go. I won’t stop you,” he said. The pain in his voice made your heart ache and the miserable look on his face didn’t help to soothe the pain. “But answer this truthfully, did he ever care about you the way I did?”

No, Kirigan, the Darkling had been your general. Nikolai had been your love. Did he care deeply for the Grisha? Probably, more than any nobleman or king ever did. He saw you as a soldier, nurtured the talent in you and made you a powerful tidemaker. You weren’t the best, but he had made you stronger. However, you couldn’t compare him to Nikolai. Kirigan had never been your lover.

You simply didn’t know what to say.

Nikolai sighed at your silence, believing that all was lost. He lost you to a maniac and yet he couldn’t be angry with you, not even when you faced him with the desire to kill him. “The Darkling doesn’t care if you make it out dead or alive. For him, you’re just another pawn to spend.” To avoid looking at you he stared at the ceiling, tracing the molding with his eyes. “He never came for you. Not once, all the way to Os Alta. I doubt he cares the way I do.”

You hadn’t noticed the tears that began to well in your eyes or the ones running down your cheeks. “Don’t act like you’re the saint here Nikolai. You left me too and never came back for me, you remember? You left me without a word. Not even leaving a stupid card did you leave me! No words, no letters! Nothing!” You cried. All of the anger, sadness and false hope bottled all the years inside of you, securely stored away, exploded like a volcano.

“I never wanted to leave you!” He cried. Nikolai couldn’t stand watching you cry, it broke him. But then the fury in his eyes vanished as quickly as it came. The young prince scrunched his brows in confusion; he didn’t understand what you just said, accused him of. No letters? This couldn’t be true, he remembered writing to you almost daily as a “student” in Ketterdam, even as a privateer. “What do you mean? I left you a letter at your door, I wrote to you every day.”

"You never wrote to me.”

“I did write. It was you, who never–” Suddenly it became clear to him, the sudden departure for Ketterdam, the lost letter, you never writing to him – it all seemed to make sense. Like it had been planned for a long time. But for what? To get rid of the second heir to the throne? To play cruel games with the heart of a young girl? To hurt the bastard prince? But why? It wasn’t like Nikolai was a threat to him, not at the time he was sent to study in Ketterdam.

“I don’t understand it yet but he’s smarter than I thought.” Nikolai shook his head in disbelief, leaving you confused. Seeing the puzzled look on your face he began explaining his theory to you. He couldn’t give you a reason but the Darkling hat it all planned long ago: Sending Nikolai away, making you one of his weapons and him one step closer to the throne. Nikolai had no clear proof for it but looking at recent history it wasn’t so far-fetched.

“He wanted me dead.” Nikolai didn’t say you. To him you weren’t the assassin you believed yourself to be, and it did warm your heart but there wasn’t a chance you’d forget the words you’d thrown at him. “He used you to kill me,” he sneered, cherishing more and more the wish to kill that man with his own hands.

“But why me?” You asked him, not yet understanding your role in all of this. You weren’t important to the throne. Actually, you weren’t important at all, just another Grisha in the Second Army. Without your connection to the prince, you were nothing but average.

Nikolai squeezed your hand lightly, making you look at him with your puffy eyes. “He didn’t want my blood on his hands. It is easier for his plan if you’re the one who kills me, betraying the Tsar, the Royal family and Ravka … who knows what would’ve happened to you if you succeeded.” Maybe execution had lain in your future? He didn’t want to think about it. Unseen he took a deep breath before putting on a smile and patting your hand light-heartedly. “Too bad he didn’t predict that you simply can’t resist my charm.”

Nikolai had hoped to loosen the mood with that, but you were still stuck on finding your role in the whole mess. “Why me?” you asked him. “I’m of no importance to the throne.”

Scoffing, Nikolai looked like you had said the most obnoxious and insulting thing he had ever heard, and the prince had heard a lot in his young life.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s the truth.”

“Don’t you know how important you are to me?” Your mouth opened to say anything, but you were unable to form any coherent thought. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand didn’t make it any better. “I can’t picture anyone by my side but you.”

“Nikolai …”

“It’s the truth. Since the night at the lake, I knew one day I would make you the princess you were always meant to be.” Your heart felt like it was collapsing, and new tears began to build in your eyes. This was such a long time ago. It felt like an eternity ago that this night, full of giddy, foolish, and love-drunken youths, happened. It broke your heart knowing that this love could never be recognized. Back then you didn’t know but now you did. There was no possibility for you to be by his side.

“Nikolai.” You sounded broken. But when you tried to tuck your hand back from his grasps, he didn’t let you. Nikolai kept his hold firm but gentle. He wouldn’t let go of you again. “Please, I love you, but you know this will never happen,” you cried, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. “Even if I were of noble birth. It’s not possible, I–“

“Please don’t say ‘I killed you’.”

“I’m still Grisha. Even if I would be a noble man’s daughter, I would still be Grisha. And soldiers aren’t meant to be princesses.”

His heart swelled knowing that he hadn’t been mistaken about your feelings towards him. Your kiss in the cell already had told him as much but hearing it from you made it all so much more real. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do but he’d claim the throne and make you, his queen. Never would he lose you again.

“Well, if you say so. I must’ve missed something then,” Nikolai grinned and gave your knuckles another kiss, before pulling you towards him, making you almost topple onto him. “A soldier, privateer and a prince. I’m all the evidence you need, moya milaya.”

Gently did he press a kiss to your brows. “I’ll make you make my queen,” Nikolai murmured before wandering to your ear. “And no one. Not the Darkling, not my family, not you, no offense, can stop me.”

#grishaverse #siege and storm #shadow and bone #sab imagine #sab fanfic #Nikolai Lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x yn #grishaverse scenario #nikolai lantsov x reader

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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 2 years

Text

I'm a man of three fears: integrity, faith, and crocodile tears.

Alonzo’s a burden - he always has been. That’s why he needs to leave before he burdens the cats he cares about most.

TW: For heavy handed mentions of implied abuse, assault and kitten-napping. Nothing happens, but the Mouser’s Palace is a very *very* bad place and Macavity and his henchcats are bad people.

If somecat had told Alonzo this time a few years back that he would have had a part in staging and executing an elaborate getaway from the infamous Mouser's Palace that involved snatching two of Macavity's prized members and a couple bloodline kittens, he would have likely told them to get their ears checked to make sure there was still a brain between them. Then he would have told them, very bluntly he might add, to keep their traps shut before they got them both killed.

How times changed. Even now, it still sounded ridiculous.

Escaping from Macavity's clutches once you were sworn in, once you had spent so much time there no other life seemed possible, once you had lost so much of yourself you weren't quite sure if you were still you anymore, was a pipe dream. A psychological torment of yearning just beyond grasp. Or maybe just a death wish. It was something you thought of while you were clawing at the persistent ringing in your ears and struggling to see straight, wondering if anyone around you was a plant, or wished for late at night as you remembered things said in passing that permanently stained your frontal lobe with echoes and images so horrible that you couldn't even close your eyes to sleep.

And yet, here they were. The fabled Junkyard Demeter had spoken so often about. They had actually made it to the other side, all relatively in one piece. Alonzo had to admit that he'd shied away from the strength of those initial wisps of faith lit in the basements of the Mouser's Palace, fearing the inevitable burn. But those little slivers of hope, collected like so many particles of dust, really had gotten them somewhere. They'd actually managed to get away.

But it still felt off.

To be in a place where Macavity somehow, presumably, wasn't always watching, wasn't always listening...it was a strange feeling. Almost unsettlingly unreal - like it could disappear at any moment. Like it was some kind of twisted, too-good-to-be-true dream.

But it hadn't been an easy dream, that was for sure.

Alonzo gingerly pressed a paw pad to the newest scar candidate on the side of his face, blinking back the sudden sting it brought to his eyes. It smarted, but it had stopped dripping into his mouth and would heal on its own. His nose had probably been broken, too, something he reminded himself painfully of when he'd scrunched it, but he'd dealt with a million of those before. Thesper always had had good aim when he pulled his head far enough out of his ass to do his job, the bastard. Of course he'd choose that night to pick an actual fight. Just their luck really. Must have been slim pickings.

They...the other Junkyard cats - that one silver tom, what was his name again? Mun-something - had tried to coax him into getting patched up, but Alonzo had never liked being looked over too closely for something that wasn't, in his words, "being devastatingly good looking" (and don't think he didn't hear Bombalurina snort behind him). It left him feeling...vulnerable, and you could never quite get that pesky vulnerability out of the fur once it sank its claws in. It stained very easily. Besides, as nice as these cats seemed, he didn't know them. And, frankly, he didn't trust them either. Alonzo liked to think he knew better than that, after all this time. Fool me once and all that garbage. It's not like they'd given him any solid reason to (though not attacking them on sight might have been half of one). He hadn't been thrilled watching the rest of them being whisked away out of sight one by one for the same treatment (which also left him with a few questions), but he wasn't in charge here. Alonzo knew how pecking order worked, and he reminded himself of it further, biting his tongue as he watched after Demeter's retreating form, Jemima trailing after her. That made him antsy. But if they ended up in trouble, well, he soothed himself with the fact that they'd just been in the ring once already - they could always go another round.

Alonzo had been led off himself by that same silver tabby cat, and, after staunchly refusing any medical assistance and ducking out of a remarkably strong nursecat's grip, sat across from their own little council of cats (How cute, he'd thought) and sorted everything out. Well, kind of. Keeping a wary eye on the cats in his blind spot, and carefully picking dirt from his coat, Alonzo answered the majority of the questions tossed his way with a clipped: "Yes" or "No". He hoped he came across as nonchalant and aloof and not as paranoid and nervous as he really felt. They didn't need any details and, anyway, he wasn't the one who needed to provide them. Why they had even bothered talking to him, a complete stranger, in the first place was a mystery. If Alonzo were them, he would have already sent him upstream. Demeter and Bombalurina would be able to answer their questions much better - they actually knew these cats and they, quite obviously, knew the queens in turn.

That left an odd, sour feeling at the back of his throat. But Alonzo had no desire to unpack that - not now or ever. They'd finally dismissed him, leaving him to wander anxiously, and instead, he focused his energy on examining his new surroundings and fruitlessly avoiding the inevitable.

Frankly, this place seemed almost too good to be true. It was so...quiet. Alonzo couldn't remember a time when he hadn't heard the dull edge of whispering leaking from every corner, the odd high pitched whine that never seemed to leave the air, or the clinking of glass and claws ringing against window panes. Especially at night. That's when the Mouser's Palace had always sung the loudest. For better and worse. But here, amidst the trash piles and broken human paraphernalia, aside from the occasional passing car and dripping pipe, it was near silent. And not in a suspicious way, either. Just...a genuinely calm one. Which really offset its rather unconventional setting, he had to say.

Wasn't it ironic that their little dreamland was a literal pile of garbage? Life was funny. But, hell, he'd take it. Not like he hadn't lived in worse places. Pretty things near always seemed to hide more nefarious secrets under their surfaces, at least in his experience. He'd take a junk pile over crawling scratch carpet and high arching ceilings and peeling gold leaf paper and massive colorful windows any day.

What was important to him was that, at long last in however many years it had been, Demeter and Bombalurina were back home. They weren't under the heavy weight of Macavity's claws anymore. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie had been cried over by cats who must have been their parents. The kittens were finally safe, like they'd always deserved.

If they were lucky, they'd stay safe. There were never any guarantees in life. But Alonzo tentatively hoped that, perhaps this time, there could be at least one of them. If only for these particular cats.

All in all, it could have been much worse than a few scrapes and bruises and broken parts. They'd made it somehow. He'd done his job. Maybe not the best job, but they were alive. Demeter and Jemima were alive. They didn't need him anymore. Their little charade was coming to an end.

All he had left now was to say goodbye, and, considering what they'd just been through, it was turning out to be more difficult than he'd thought. Hence the wandering. At this point (though he hesitated to admit it for fear of putting the suggestion into the universe) he'd rather have been raked across the face again.

Of course, he could just take the coward's route and leave without a word, slipping into the night on his own. It wasn't too late. Alonzo always had known that route by heart, having traveled it many times before. But this time, damn his conscience, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Finding his friends was an easy enough feat, even in vastly unfamiliar territory. In the sea of overwhelming new smells, he'd picked up on theirs almost instantly and followed diligently after. He'd likely never forget that particular mix of smells for the rest of his nine lives. It had become something that, if Alonzo were the sentimental type, would register somewhere as close to home as he'd ever been.

But Alonzo was not the sentimental type.

When he'd entered the nursing den, stomach turning with the sharp overlay of medicinal herbs (and nerves, but he'd blame the herbs if asked), Alonzo felt as though he were suddenly too big for his surroundings. He wasn't a small cat by any means, and he knew that, but there was something about this place that was unusually fragile and dainty. Like if he shifted too far in any direction the walls would come down, or if he stood up straight the roof would cave in. Strange.

Demeter's familiar golden form caught his eye immediately, stretched languidly over the padded cot on the floor, Jemima sitting between her forepaws. Alonzo's heart swelled and sunk simultaneously. They were, miraculously, still awake and whispering between themselves; the familiar nighttime back and forth that they shared, just the two of them. In their own little world. Alonzo had wondered, on occasion, what they talked about so intently, but never got around to asking. He thought it better to leave it between them, content enough to just...watch. Hesitantly just on the outside; at an arm's length.

Bombalurina was curled far enough away to allow the queens their privacy and give herself and Electra their own, but close enough that she could keep an eye on them. He wouldn't have expected any less. Even so, she seemed to have slipped her watch for just a moment, and was sleeping very much like the dead (as though she hadn't slept - hadn't truly slept - in years), Electra fast asleep beside her. Good. At least someone was getting some sleep around here.

Releasing the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he ducked farther in.

Demeter noticed him first, looking up at him knowingly through the fan of her lashes. She looked...almost relieved to see him. Maybe even surprised as she nudged Jemima to look as well. "Look who it is."

Jemima turned around quickly, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

"Alonzo!"

And just like that, it felt like any courage he had gathered up immediately flew off, never to be heard from again. Alonzo practically felt himself deflate. Damn it.

"Hey," he greeted, keeping his voice low to set the example. "You still awake? I figured you'd be out cold by now."

"I was waiting for you, 'cause I have a fantastic tuition," Jemima said matter-of-factly, trying to match the new volume, but just barely succeeding.

Alonzo smiled tightly at the seemingly nonsensical statement. Of course she was. Careful the things you say and all - hadn't he been the one to teach her that?

Nearly every queen of kitten-bearing age in the Mouser's Palace was sent to the basement eventually. Sooner or later. Some stayed on after, finding a sort of comfort in that old shipping warehouse, some did not, and some abandoned their kittens as soon as they could, leaving them mewling and hungry until another cat took pity on them. Or they disappeared. Or the other thing happened. The far less optimistic one.

Demeter, like the rest, had eventually ended up down there as well, and hadn't been permitted to leave, even as the colour had returned to her face and Jemima had started walking. Quite the downgrade from her rooms upstairs, or so Alonzo had heard; he, like most of the other henchcats, hadn't been allowed anywhere near Macavity's quarters. But such were The Mystery Cat's plans of operation, right down to the last well oiled gear. Eventually, they were all disposable, no matter how high up the ladder. It was just a matter of time.

Alonzo never went into Demeter's crate (with its one missing board) even when invited. At least never at first - something about it didn't sit right with him. Demeter got so little of anything to herself those days, and besides, Alonzo didn't want to imagine what would happen to either of them if he was ever caught in there. It wouldn't look good at all. Demeter may have been demoted down below with the rest of them, but she still belonged to Macavity. He had never been shy to emphasize that point, over and over again, with purple blossoms hidden beneath Demeter's collar and rings worn into her upper arm.

But even though he didn't enter the crate, Alonzo sat outside of it when he was able, even stumbling down late at night, bleary eyed, after a conference had gone too long, or a particularly long and grating watch rotation came to an end. That had been the case that particular evening, when one of Macavity's little...rendezvous had gone completely south. He'd been lucky to escape that one with his tail in tact.

Exhausted as he was, it was worth it to give him some semblance of peace of mind, even for a little while. When he wasn't able to make it back for the evening, his skin would prickle and itch with anxiety until the sun came up the next morning. Being away from them felt wrong. It all felt very wrong.

Bombalurina was there, she'd look out for Demeter when he couldn't make it. Hell, she'd probably do a better job. And Demeter wasn't helpless. But it just didn't feel like enough.

It never felt like enough.

There were some cats around these parts that sniffed around the basement crates like they were looking for treasure. And really, the entire basement was filled with it - whatever your fancy happened to be. Crates that weren't littered with other cats were stuffed full of trinkets of all kinds. Getting away with it was easy, too; not like any of the henchcats took serious inventory. And the ones who did often...forgot the odd bauble here and there for report. Macavity wouldn't miss what he didn't know he had.

As for the rest, well - most of the henchcats upstairs ignored whatever noises came from the makeshift mills downstairs, queens and kittens alike. None of their concern. No one who valued their neck would say anything. Looking the other way reaped more reward.

Alonzo didn't like thinking about that. Not in the slightest. Because there was, quite literally, nothing he could do. So he sat. And he watched. And he buried all of his fear deep inside of himself.

But he also sat outside, particularly on nights like that one with the moon full and high, because a certain little friend of his was becoming quite the lone midnight wanderer, much to the concern of her mother. So, without any second thoughts, Alonzo pulled double duty.

Speak of the devil.

"Pump the brakes, little lady," he grumbled, stretching out his tail to halt Jemima in her tracks. He caught her arm before she tripped. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

Jemima had blinked hard and whipped her head around to look at him, as though snapping out of a trance. She always seemed uncertain when he asked her that question. Almost as though she wasn't sure herself. Alonzo never liked that look on her face. It looked eerily similar to an image burned into the back of his brain that the tomcat wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"I had a funny dream," she muttered at last, crawling back over his tail to sit next to him. Alonzo hummed non-committedly, glancing down the corridor. No one was around. He shifted closer to her, just in case. Never knew with this place.

He wondered to ask her what was so funny about her dream, but Jemima rarely blamed her dreams for keeping her awake unless they were unpleasant. He'd figured that out the hard way, and learned it better not to pry unless she needed to talk about it (or he felt like filling the rest of his night with his own round of nonsensical nightmares). Not that he really had the tools to talk her through it like Demeter or Bombalurina did anyway. Try as he might, that just wasn't in his skillset. Instead, he rubbed her ears and hummed again, in what he hoped came across as a sympathetic gesture. Or at least a comforting one. They were still so soft and fragile at this age - like downy little birds fresh from the nest. It was a wonder how they survived.

It was a wonder any of them did.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked after a moment, allowing him to brush the fur away from her eyes over and over, even when it was already flat.

"I was waiting for you," he'd said quickly. That was close enough to the truth that he hadn't felt bad that it technically was a lie. He didn't like lying to her. Alonzo was concerned that "keeping watch" would frighten her, and lead to difficult questions like "Keeping watch for what?"

And Alonzo never could come up with a good enough answer for that one.

Jemima didn't need to know the type of characters lurking around these basements at night. Sure she lived at the Palace, spent most of her daylight hours wandering around the dusty beams of light that squeezed through down there; she saw the diluted glimpses of how bad it was, but she was still just a kitten. Alonzo figured there'd be plenty of time to learn about that later down the line. There was already enough on her plate as it was for such a small thing. It wasn't lying; it was omission. Demeter had taught him that one.

Completely different thing.

"How did you know I was coming?" Jemima had inquired, pressing her face into his ribcage (and couldn't he just feel every bone bumping concerningly against her skull - when had that happened?) and rolling her sleepy eyes upward.

He tapped his temple and winked (though how successful he ever was with that particular gesture was debatable - Bombalurina had told him once it looked more like a spasm). Still, keeping the situation light seemed to usually do the trick, and Jemima wasn't much of a critic. "I have fantastic intuition."

Or, rather, she nearly always wandered out of the crate on nights it was raining, or the moon was full. She wandered when she was happy or sad or had too much on her mind. She seemed to float from time to time, eyes dull and far away. He was almost certain she slept walk and didn't even realize it. He knew her routine like the back of his paw.

All in all, the chances were high. But intuition sounded better.

"I like that word," Jemima mumbled, testing it in her mouth. "It's like bubbles."

"Sure it is, kiddo."

"Can I stay here until morning?" she'd asked, already settling right in. "I want to say goodbye to the moon and I can see it better here."

A bad idea. "Goodbye, huh? You think you can stay awake? The night's a long time."

"Yup," she said quietly, clearly already falling back asleep. "The morning is more brighter."

Out of the mouths of unusually on the nose and cryptic kittens.

"Yeah," Alonzo agreed, tucking her closer to his side in barely fought for defeat, glancing down the dark stretch of breezy corridor again, swearing he saw a flash of light. The night would be very long. "It is."

"A tuition, huh?" Alonzo echoed, dimly coming back to the present. "Well, as always, you've got great 'tuition'."

"Uh huh!" she agreed, looking up at her mom who tried to smile for her.

The tomcat sighed, and crouched down, motioning the kitten towards him.

"C'mere. I got something to tell you."

Demeter glanced up at him again, lips pursed to the side and eyes dull. There was the full look he was fearing - the look of withdrawn acceptance that graced her features far too frequently. She knew what he was doing and had already started steeling herself away. He tried to avoid her glance, but it already was digging its claws into his conscience. Still, she nodded at Jemima, who obliviously and immediately fumbled towards him.

When she stopped in front of him, she motioned for him to come closer in turn. He tilted his good ear towards her, and she grabbed it with her little paw. Only for Jemima, he thought, wincing. Only for Jemima he'd let his ear, whole or otherwise, be pulled or touched or chewed on. Another cat would find themselves scratched before they made it halfway.

"I kept my eyes shut the whole time," Jemima whispered conspiratorialy, glancing over her shoulder at Demeter, who was still watching them closely. She looked sad and disappointed and empty, and Alonzo felt a stab of guilt at keeping her awake like this. But before he could wallow anymore in his own self imposed misery, Jemima let go of his ear and leaned over to catch his eye again. "Did I do good?"

She was referring to their previous escape plan. Or at least her part in it anyway. When it came time to make a run for it, he'd told the kittens to keep their eyes closed. "Keep 'em closed," he'd instructed. "And don't you open 'em until we say it's okay, got it?"

This instruction had been partially to give them something they could focus on so they were more likely to be quiet, and partially because he hadn't been sure what they would see if they didn't. No use scarring them any further than they already were. Electra had nodded and tucked her face into her mother's coat, but Jemima had just stared at him wide eyed, overwhelmed and sensitive to the whirlwind of emotion around her. She had been, quite literally, paralyzed with their fear. Demeter had held her tighter, gently murmuring that they'd be okay, to listen to him, but Jemima had started squirming and shaking her head, insisting that they would all leave when her eyes were closed. It escalated quickly. Alonzo, already choked up on adrenaline, fearing someone would hear her meltdown, had turned back to face her, clamping down on the way his paws shook so he could grab hers.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me."

She stopped squirming and looked up.

"We're not gonna leave you alone," he'd insisted, squeezing her little paw, perhaps a little harsher than intended, but everything felt like too much in that moment. "I'm not ever gonna leave you alone, alright? It's.. it's all gonna be fine, I promise. But you gotta trust me, and keep your eyes shut okay? You trust me?"

Jemima had nodded, sniffling, and with a last long look, had turned and buried her nose against Demeter's chest.

With the meltdown avoided, they'd set off for the last time from that awful old building. Alonzo didn't think too hard about what he'd said, or how it might come back to bite him. He had to focus on sticking to Bombalurina's plan and remembering where everyone was supposed to be. He had to keep track of where Jerrie would meet them, and which direction they were headed, and keeping tabs on whoever would be lurking nearby, and keeping cool headed. There wasn't any room left to regret.

So they'd set off, and Alonzo had put it out of his mind.

And Jemima kept her eyes shut the entire way, silent as a church mouse as they slipped into the night.

"You did so good, hon," Alonzo affirmed, tweaking her whiskers. "So good. What'd I tell you - didn't I promise it'd be okay?"

Jemima nodded eagerly. "Yeah! And I wasn't even scared a little bit."

"Not even a little bit?" The tom made a show of widening his eyes at the white lie. "Man, you're getting to be so tough. Don't even need me anymore, huh?"

"Nope! I'm brave!"

That she was. But she'd have to be braver still. Testing the waters that way rarely worked on kittens.

"Listen, Jem, I -"

"Your face is dirty," the kitten interjected.

Alonzo almost laughed, though how much of it was bordering on dwindling adrenaline tinged hysteria at this point, he wasn't certain.

"I-it is, huh? That's no good."

"Yeah it's yucky." Jemima reached to touch his cheek, but he carefully caught her paw before she smeared any blood around, or accidentally shoved any debris in the wounds. He probably looked awful; no use making it worse. She wrinkled her nose.

"Miss Jenny can fix it for you. She fixed Mama and Bomba."

"I'm sure she can," he agreed, wondering if "Miss Jenny" was the ironclad grip from earlier. "But I think I'm okay."

"She gave me a biscuit after she checked me!" Jemima continued, bouncing on her toes. "And Electra! She'll give you one too, I think. Then you can have a bath because you smell."

That time, Alonzo did laugh, but it sounded more like a forced exhale than any sign of good humour. As unique as Jemima was, kittens were always kittens; abrupt and painfully honest. "Sheesh, you're breaking my heart here. I'm gonna miss you, little lady."

Jemima withdrew slightly, looking suddenly sharp and alert. "Where are you going?"

"I'm...I don't know yet," he admitted. "But it's time for me to go."

"Well, when are you coming back?"

"I…won't be."

Jemima looked at him uncertainly. "...Me and Mama are going with you?" She sounded slightly disappointed by the idea, having already grown to like her new surroundings. Though he supposed anything was an improvement over shipping crates in a musty old basement. "Do we have to go right now?"

"No, Jem," he corrected carefully. "You're going to stay right here."

"So...you're gonna leave us?"

There it was. And there was that Demeter look on her face

"I'm not...it's not like that. I'm not leaving you, I'm just..." Alonzo huffed. Leaving you, just like you said you wouldn't, his brain supplied.

He tried again. "You'll have lots of new friends here, lots of cats to take care of you, and you won't need me. I gotta go somewhere else where cats need me." Liar, his conscious hissed at him again. No one needs you.

Jemima thought on this.

"I…ah," he tried desperately to simplify the complicated feelings swirling in his chest. How could she possibly understand when he barely understood himself? That he needed to leave because he didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere. Belonging somewhere, being tied down, meant things tied to your tail. It meant you missed people when they weren't with you. And if something ever happened to you...or to them...

All he was was a liability at the best of times. They didn't need him taking up space; he didn't deserve their hospitality.

"I don't want to be another mouth to feed, you know? They have their hands full with enough cats."

"You can have my dinner," the queenkit insisted. "I just need a little bit." She pressed the pads of her paws together to show him, and Alonzo wished again he could just be hit across the face - it would hurt less. Hells alive, this wasn't fair - this wasn't supposed to be this hard. Why was he always so bad at this? How did he always manage to make everything worse?

"You're a good girl, Jemima," he forced past the lump in his throat. "Promise you'll keep being that way, okay?"

"I promise," she parroted back immediately, like an instinct, but it sounded empty and lacking any conviction. "But I don't want you to go."

"I know, but-"

Jemima blinked at him, eyes suddenly clear and bright, sparkling unnervingly. The pale blue darkened considerably. If Alonzo weren't so used to her sudden changes in disposition, he would have cringed away. Jemima had a way about her that made everything seem so...big but so small at the exact same time. She looked at you as though she were seeing clear to the other side of the world. Her voice was clearer, older, when she muttered: "You don't want to go either. You're just afraid."

Alonzo had no answer for that, stunned into silence. He didn't even want to acknowledge how deep she'd dug for that one. He felt as though she'd ripped the fur from his body in one clean swoop.

The unnerving ice in Jemima's eyes quickly melted into tears. Like a switch, she was back to being a regular little kitten. "You have to stay with me. You promised."

"Jemima," Demeter called gently, sensing the escalation. Even now she was coming to his rescue - what a coward he was. She looked so...exhausted. In every way. He needed to leave. He only ever caused her problems she didn't deserve. "It's time to sleep now. Alonzo needs to go."

"You promised you weren't going to leave me ever," Jemima insisted, turning her wobbling lip back towards Demeter. "That's what you said. I heard you. You're a liar."

"Jemima," Demeter said again, firmer this time. "Enough."

Jemima sniffled loudly and balled up her fists, trying to self regulate, but Alonzo was still staring at the space just above her ears.

Electra had woken at the commotion, and was staring silently at them from the shadows, eyes winking in the moonlight. If Bombalurina had woken up to listen as well, she didn't show it. Hell, he wished she were awake, too. The four of them looking at him with thinly veiled scrutiny. Might as well make a whole circus around himself.

He was quiet for a long time, listening to Jemima struggle to keep from crying. The sound hurt him more than he could describe.

"You're right, I did say that. I am a liar," Alonzo admitted, voice quiet and pathetic sounding to his own ears. Shame burned hot on his face, even as reminded himself that he was a grown tom; he wasn't a kitten being scolded for lying. Why did he feel so small then? Like he was making such a big mistake? "But sometimes...sometimes grownups have to do things that are better for everyone. Your ma will explain it to you."

"But it won't be better!"

"Yes it will," he retorted, wondering how this all had slipped so quickly away from him. He felt childish; may as well bicker like one.

"How do you know?"

How do you know what's good for anyone? You don't even know what's good for yourself.

"I just...do," he insisted again, but it sounded weak. Tired. Give up. You don't want to go. You can’t even do that right. "I don't belong here."

"You do!" Jemima insisted, rubbing angrily at her face. "You belong with Mama, and Bomba, and Electra, and Jerrie, and Teazer, and me."

Alonzo glanced up around the room. Electra was poised, silently nodding. Bombalurina, having pushed off her feigned sleep to eavesdrop, as suspected, looked...troubled. Demeter looked expectant, as though she had caught a breath to hold and wasn't sure whether to release it or not.

And Jemima, his dear little Jemima, was looking up at him as though he'd hit her, and, more than any other time in his pathetic life, he hated himself for that.

"And...and that means you belong here," she concluded. “You’ll stay with me a-and you'll be my dad. I don’t have a good one of those.”

Alonzo's expression twisted in on itself violently. "Oh, honey," he managed to choke out, voice rough. The frayed edges of panic gripped at his chest as any resolve he had left slipped further from him. "I'm...I'm not your dad."

“But you could be, if you want.” Jemima turned back towards Demeter, as though the issue were simple, like asking permission for a sleepover. “Mama won’t mind. Right?”

Demeter blinked, but a twitching, hesitant smile was threatening to pull at the corners of her muzzle.

Well...shit.

"You're s'pposed to be here," Jemima whimpered as a final resort. "I just know it."

Alonzo sighed, long and loud. His mind was reeling a mile a minute. "How do you know it?"

"I just do. I don't know why," she muttered, throwing his words back at him in retaliation, kicking at the floor. "Please don't go away. Stay until the sun comes."

Just until the sun comes.

For Cat's sake, what was he doing?

Jemima curled into his side the moment he'd defeatedly lay down, as though she feared he would try to leave when she fell asleep, her little purr rattling his ribs. He could still feel the delicate outlines of her bones, just slightly too close for comfort. But maybe that wouldn't be a problem so much anymore. Time would tell.

Bombalurina and Electra had turned away and gone back to sleep as the show concluded. Demeter was still looking at him out of the corner of her eye, though the gaze was warm and it felt...different. The golden tomcat stared up though the gaps in the roof, through to the stars and the moon, wondering how exactly he'd wound up in this position. Wondering if he'd ever had the strength to leave, or if he'd always been selfishly hoping he'd stay.

For a moment, he heard Cesare's words echo pointedly in his ears. That slimy bastard was always poking his nose where it didn't belong, and if he never saw him again it would be too soon. But even miles away he still managed to slither under Alonzo's skin.

"You've gone soft, patches."

And maybe he had. Maybe he'd turned to full on pulpy mush in the face of one stubborn queenkit and her equally stubborn mother and their ragtag group of Junkyard cats. It sounded sickeningly saccharine just turning it over in his mind. If you had told him a year ago...But, at the moment, with Jemima's tiny pin prick claws catching his fur and Demeter's tail gently moving to brush his, feeling for a moment - just a fleeting painful moment - that maybe he did belong, he was struggling to recall why that was such a bad thing. Maybe he could get used to this.

Ah, hell, he'd figure it out in the morning. The morning is more brighter, after all.

#Alonzo #Jemima #Demeter #Bombalurina #Electra #other cats mentioned #my fanfic #fanfiction #did i get sappy at the end? yes #this is nearly 6000 words what have i been doing with myself #i also very briefly borrwed amie's Cesare *again* because he's such a great naysay voice in that space #please note the trigger warning for a reason - again it has nothing to do with the main characters but it does get mentioned #does jemima sense that alonzo will do something important in the future? yes she just doesnt understand it

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