Full color dark vision • Echolocation • Heightened hearing & smell • Minor sonic scream able to destroy small objects and damage other’s hearing with prolonged exposure • Minor enhanced physical strength and durability • Enhanced intelligence in the form of photographic memory, acute observation skills, and pattern recognition; Excels at math and memory based problem solving and is fluent in a handful of languages • ‘Talking circles’ around people with the utmost confidence • Sonar’s real charisma comes from aptly lying, detail memorization, and a direct effort of studying the person he’s trying to charm and carefully picking what to say... However, in most other social situations or when he is inevitably distracted or panics? He’s pretty insufferable and constantly blurting out inappropriate thoughts.
Megabat only: flight • super strength & durability • sonic scream able to destroy large objects, permanently deafen, cause extreme disorientation, and move large opponents.
Weaknesses:
Sonar is stubborn, obsessive, and compulsive; He often gives into whims and is easily distracted • sensitive ears; high pitched or loud noises can disorientate or even disable him • light sensitivity • Though he is fully sentient and intelligent as the Megabat, his control of his Animalistic Instincts is far lessened leaving him a greater victim to his poor impulse control; Maybe give the Megabat some space after particularly bloody encounters and refrain from teasing it • narcotic addiction • blood lust... regular lust is a bit of an issue too • Megabat transformation can be randomly triggered in a variety of situations, usually him getting too excited stressed or scared, and once it starts he cannot stop it and must wait until calm to transform back • usually nude when transforming back to his hybrid form. Someone get this manbat spandex shorts.
Additional character information below...
Relationships...
You do not have to follow these AT ALL, but Sonar will generally act following these ideas unless you tell me otherwise or it's obviously conflicting with your hcs. I figure it’s also a good jumping off point if you want to interact with Sonar as one of these characters. Or use it to decide you DON'T want to interact with Sonar!
Malevola: met in his late 20s and has been best friends with ever since. Had a crush on her at first that he no longer has, but she’s smokin’ hot and Sonars a loserperv so he still hits on her sometimes because she is okay with it and thinks it's cute. Currently roommates.
Robert: Got a Big Honkin’ crush on. Immediately placed him on a pedestal the moment Robert gave him another chance and has been lost to the lovingrobert sauce ever since. But until we have established their specific relationship together, please don't assume your Robert is in a relationship with my Sonar. If you would like to start at some point later in their relationship we can talk about that. Robert DOES NOT have to return or acknowledge Sonar’s romantic/sexual interest AT ALL, EVER. In fact it is very fun for me to see Sonar be obsessed and pathetic and Robert uninterested or trying to keep it work appropriate. He will not give up unless Robert specifically tells him not to do something, which you may also freely do, so lead him on aaaallll you want.
Important note for Roberts: I will default to “Sonars increased probation is due to him joining the Red Ring and directly attacking SDN” but hit me up if you want Sonar and Roberts fight to have gone like this instead(everything else is canon compliant and everything after and how Robert feels about it will be up to you ❤) [[link leads to a comic with BITING WITH INTENT TO SEVERELY WOUND & BLOOD in it, be warned]]
Shroud: Sonar did not give a heck about whatever Shroud was actually doing, joined the red ring as a way to get revenge on Robert and SDN. Dislikes that Shroud is wildly smarter than him when intelligence is usually his thing, but was also mildly afraid of him and easily beaten into respectful submission. Though Shroud saw Sonar as a useless idiot and initially only allowed him to join the red ring to further upset Robert, Sonar turned out to be a very useful subordinate. Sonar excels in corporate ladder climbing and boss ass kissing, after all. Also the whole Turns Into A Giant Monster That Eats People helped...
Toxic: initially a sort of babysitter for Sonar to make sure he wasn’t reporting back to SDN, the two ended up spending a lot of time together even after that as Sonar climbed the Red Ring ranks. Sonar tends to play annoyed by Toxic but unfortunately... he does love twinks.
Zteam: Other than being insufferable, Sonar was is on good terms with all of the Z team and enjoys hanging out with any of them. Things may be rocky with Sonar returning after joining the Red Ring, but he's ready to play apologetic people pleaser until everyone likes him again.
SDN employees he has strong feelings towards: His relationship with Blazer is tense, he’s trying to get along and show her respect but he lost most of it over what he considers her decision to cut someone from a rehab program. He understands it wasn’t personal, but that trust will need time to reform. Luckily he's a great corporate shill and knows better than to disrespect the boss so he remains polite. [I love Blazer please don't let butthurt Sonar trying to find someone to blame other than himself make you think otherwise.]
Bffs with Galen. Super hearing buddies. Their gossip sessions are fucking nuclear
Sex Stuff...
I have no issue with sexual topics or situations of any kind, I have a lot of fun skirting around them and getting freaky with it and gods know Sonar is always starting and or encouraging them, but I’mma be real I am not confident in my ability to write full blown, detailed smut. We can burn that bridge when we come to it.
Sonar is a Verse/switch, defaults sub/top. He will insist hes a dom/top-alphamale in public, but don’t listen to him he enjoys sex anyway he gets it and likes variety and lots of attention.
Bisexual, but only openly into men the last couple of years so he has a preference for women and a lot of his language is hetcoded. Fluctuates between exploring his new identity and excitedly bragging about being bi now, and repressed comphet fratboy.
Hobbies...
Fav media genres are scifi, horror, edgy political/social commentary action. But he watches a lot of movies and shows of different kinds. He likes multitasking and background noise.
Fav Video game genres are competitive fps, and resource management/survival.
Prefers 80s-90s metal & whiteboy rap, and modern girlypop. But isn't picky or well versed in music. He's a Radio and Shuffle Spotify Recommendations kinda guy.
Managing stonks and other financial investments. Also a few subreddits.
Creating or investing in “get rich quick” schemes, though he would never refer to them as such. “Coming up with genius ideas to make my life and the world around me a smarter and better place” is probably what he’d call it.
Tech n gadgets. Has a few drones and other flying or remote control tech he plays with. Blows money on whatevers new and seems cool.
“Going hiking” aka finding local bats to hang out with. He’s actually not much for cardio.
Likes researching and learning about random things, loves trivia and goes to lots of open trivia nights at bars and such.
Used to be really into bugs, certified Bug Kid growing up, but hasn’t done much with the interest recently aside from identifying which ones he likes to eat and some of the aforementioned /r being bug related.
Casually into asmr, sound therapy, and the different sciences related to it. Two big pointy guesses why.
Less casually into government conspiracy theories.
Drugs...
Sonar’s addictions started in college and stemmed from curiosity, and poor impulse control; other people used it to excel at work and school, and had lots of fun doing it. So he did too! He quickly discovered the (very dangerous)wonder of playing chemistry to control his own brain and body; certain drugs could trigger or lessen the likelihood of the megabat transformation. Some quieted his constantly racing thoughts or helped him sleep when he needed to. Some curbed his staggering appetite. Some could keep him going for days to ace a test or assignment in ways he couldn’t do even with his heightened intelligence. Some helped him navigate social situations he felt he would normally fumble.
Of course it was all at the cost of addiction, obscene amounts of money, lashing out at and hurting people close to him, a lack of sincerity in his relationships, memory loss, digging himself further and further into a hole of bad decision upon bad decision, burning himself out constantly, negatively impacting his health in the long run, over dosing and ER visits and terrifying the people who cared about him, prison time... the list goes on.
He's currently trying to kick the narcotics, but recovery is not a straight line.
Known locations...
SDN Torrance branch.
Sonar&Malevolas Apartment: A large, expensive upper level 2b2ba apartment with a porch to accommodate the Megabat near LA. Pretty swanky if it weren't for the two superpowered menace fratboys, one of which often accidentally turns into a giant monster, that have inhabited it for the past few years. Healthy mix of rich tech obsessed bachelor and losernerd with too much money, decor & furnishings wise.
The Sardine, Crypto Night, Various other clubs and bars; especially ones with trivia night.
Topanga state park North of LA; he’s friendly with some of the bats up there and hangs out now and again.
What’s some of the pettiest things pulled by AGSZC + anyone else?
Hope you have a lovely New Years!
— ♥︎ —
Sephiroth: The time Heidegger—in the middle of a packed executive briefing with at least thirty officers present—loudly announced that Sephiroth’s hair was too feminine at its current length and pointedly asked if he was trying to look like a girl, adding that “real men in the military shouldn’t have hair past their shoulders.” The room went silent. Sephiroth, momentarily considering homicide, instead took a deep breath and decided on a more creative approach. He borrowed lipstick from Genesis and wore just enough to the next briefing to be noticeable but not obvious. He sat directly next to Heidegger. Heidegger noticed immediately and started sputtering “HE’S WEARING LIPSTICK! LOOK! HE’S WEARING—” Lazard, king of malicious compliance™: “Director Heidegger, please. It’s not Sephiroth’s fault that his lips are naturally luscious with an attractive pigmentation. I must ask you to refrain from ogling my operatives during official meetings. It’s unprofessional.”
Heidegger turned a shade of red so vibrant that Sephiroth mentally filed it away as potential inspiration for his next lip color.
Cloud: Some of the older infantry troopers discovered that Cloud had failed the mako tolerance test for SOLDIER admission and decided to make it their daily entertainment. “Hey Strife, how’s it feel knowing you’ll never make it?” “Guess some people just aren’t cut out for greatness.” “Maybe you should transfer to janitorial services.” This went on for weeks. until one day in the common room, they were passing around a bottle of high-proof grain alcohol. Cloud calmly stood up, walked over, grabbed the bottle from the guy’s hand, made direct eye contact with the ringleader, and chugged the entire bottle without breaking eye contact or showing any physical reaction. He set the empty bottle down, wiped his mouth, and sat back down. He gained the respect of literally everyone present. Rumors say some people even bowed to him.
Genesis: He showed Angeal an expensive silk scarf he bought, and Angeal launched into a full lecture about irresponsibility, unnecessary spending, and how Genesis owns things he doesn’t even need or appreciate. Angeal concluded with “a good, honest man would donate his excess possessions to charity instead of being so materialistic” Genesis smiled sweetly and said “You’re absolutely right, Angeal. A good honest man would do that.” The next day, Angeal discovered that Genesis had donated Angeal’s collection of vintage hand tools, his expensive high quality camping gear, three of his favorite sweaters, his spare boots, and his custom fitted gloves to a Sector 5 charity organization. When Angeal found out, he couldn’t even yell. He just stood there, staring blankly into the middle distance, as Genesis cheerfully showed him photographs of underprivileged families joyfully using his belongings. “Look, that young man is wearing your sweater! Doesn’t he look warm and happy? You must be so proud of yourself for being such a good, honest man.” Angeal never lectured him on spending again.
Zack: Lazard discovered that during a recon mission, Zack had missed an enemy patrol because he was distracted trying to befriend a stray dog, which resulted in the team having to take an inconvenient route. Lazard called him into his office and delivered a stern lecture about his ongoing lack of focus. Zack would’ve agreed and apologized if he wasn’t feeling petty that day—but he was feeling petty. So he spent the next entire week documenting everything Lazard did in a pocket notebook and getting Kunsel’s help to gather intel on Lazard’s activities.
Then, during the next briefing, Zack raised his hand.
Zack: Director, guess what? I’ve been working really hard on my attention to detail!
Lazard: I’m glad to hear it.
Zack, pulling out the notebook: Great! So I noticed on Monday at 0847 you met with an unidentified individual in Sector 8 and exchanged an unmarked envelope....possible money laundering, I’m guessing? Tuesday at 1320 you made three encrypted calls to an offshore account. Wednesday you accessed restricted files about the President’s schedule that sorta suggests assassination planning. Thursday you accepted a bribe from a Wutaiian diplomat, falsified a requisition form, and—
Lazard: YOU GET A RAISE IF YOU SHUT UP
Zack: I’m shutting up now.
Angeal: There’s no specific incident because Angeal is the undisputed king of passive aggression. He’s petty by nature. He’s the type to passive-aggressively wash everyone’s dishes in the communal SOLDIER kitchen while muttering loudly “Sure, I’ll just do everyone’s dishes. Again. It’s fine. Not like I have my own responsibilities. You’re all gonna miss me when I’m dead and there’s no one to clean up after you.” He’s also perfected the art of the disappointed sigh. One exhale can convey seventeen layers of judgment. Once, Sephiroth left a coffee mug in the sink overnight. Angeal told everyone not to wash it, and left it there for three days as a “learning opportunity,” checking on it periodically and saying things like “Wow, still here. Interesting.” Sephiroth eventually cracked and washed it. Angeal’s pettiest superpower is his ability to make you feel guilty about things you didn’t even know you did wrong.
Rating: As a whole, Stardust is rated E due to mature themes (smut, trauma, violence, etc.). Content warnings can be found directly on applicable chapters. Please be mindful of your media consumption; take care of yourself.
Chapter: 1/__ (ongoing; currently paused)
Chapter 2 | Stardust masterlist
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Summary
Special Operations Executive (SOE) Agent Danica Magennis is determined to prove she's just as—if not more—capable as her male counterparts. When she finds herself on the World War II battlefront, she believes this is her chance...however, one charming, American Sergeant soon becomes a distraction she wasn't prepared for.
Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes has never met anyone quite like Danica. She's clever, strong, beautiful...and completely immune to his flirtatious ways. At first, he simply enjoys playfully bantering with the feisty redhead, but it doesn't take long for a friendship to form.
As the War rages, the pair continue to grow closer...until one night—and one mission—changes everything.
When they reunite after decades apart, will they find solace in each other's arms, or are some things just too broken to salvage?
NOVEMBER 10, 1943 — DANICA
"Dani, you should have seen Steve's face when Stark suggested we have a 'late-night fondue'."
My tentmate by assignment and friend by choice—one Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter—lets out a soft, ladylike chuckle as she rolls her eyes...no doubt at Howard Stark's shameless attempt at flirting. She continues speaking as she gathers two large photographs and exits our tent.
"Then he just leapt from the plane as if it was nothing!" She pauses, the small smile that had curved her lips slowly fading as we approach the main tent and hear Colonel Phillips speaking, along with the clacking of typewriter keys.
"...unfruitful. As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period."
Peggy halts just outside one of the open side flaps, inhaling deeply before squaring her shoulders and stepping inside. I follow her inside but remain by the entrance, standing with my back to one of the walls as I watch her approach the Colonel.
"The last surveillance flight is back," she informs him as she places the photographs onto one of the tables set up inside the tent. "No sign of activity."
The Colonel picks up one of the images, staring at it while he dismisses the man who was typing. "Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal."
"Yes, sir."
As the Corporal exits the tent—giving me a short nod as he passes—the Colonel resumes speaking.
"I can't touch Stark. He's rich. And he's the Army's number-one weapons contractor. You are neither one," he turns to Peggy.
"With respect, sir," her tone is firm, "I don't regret my actions. And I don't think Captain Rogers did either."
"What makes you think I give a damn about your opinions? I took a chance with you, Agent Carter. And now America's golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead 'cause you had a crush."
'What an arse,' I think; though I refrain from reacting outwardly, I internally roll my eyes.
"It wasn't that. I had faith," Peggy asserts.
"Well, I hope that's a big comfort to you when they shut this division down."
He and Peggy engage in a staring contest of sorts; Colonel Phillips is the first to look away, a hubbub outside drawing his attention.
"What the hell's going on out there?" he strides from the tent; after a beat, Peggy and I follow.
"Look who it is!" a man shouts.
Peggy turns to me, and though she quickly schools her expression, I don't miss the hopeful look on her face. It turns out she's right to be hopeful, because the cause of the ruckus soon becomes apparent: Captain Rogers and a group of men are striding towards us. Colonel Phillips steps forward to meet them, and Peggy is right behind. Knowing that she'll want a moment with Steve, I hang back slightly, doing what I do best and fading into the background. Several soldiers move closer, standing in front of me, though they don't completely obstruct my view; I'm still able to see Steve...and the sinfully handsome, dark-haired man standing close to him.
"Some of these men need medical attention," the tall blond says; amidst quiet calls for a medic, he continues. "I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action."
"That won't be necessary," Colonel Phillips replies.
"Yes, sir."
The Colonel turns and begins to walk away. "Faith, huh?" I hear him ask Peggy as he passes.
She waits a moment, then steps forward. "You're late."
Steve holds up a broken radio. "Couldn't call my ride."
"Hey! Let's hear it for Captain America!" the dark-haired man shouts.
The troops all cheer and clap in response, with several surging forward to pat Steve on the shoulder...but he and Peggy just stare at one another. Meanwhile, I notice that one of the nurses has approached the other man and is standing close, speaking to him as she claps for Steve.
'Of course Charlotte would move straight for him,' I think, surprised at the surge of jealousy I feel. 'Don't be like that, Danica,' I scold myself.
Eventually, the crowd disperses, though Steve and Peggy remain. I watch as the dark-haired man follows Charlotte to one of the medical tents, the nurse tittering as they go.
'Yes, because a man who was just rescued from HYDRA needs to be bedding a woman.'
As soon as the thought enters my mind, I once again admonish myself.
'You don't get to dictate how someone reacts to trauma. And, honestly, can you really blame the man? He probably needs to shut off his mind...to feel comforting physical contact after what he's endured.'
'I'll happily provide that,' a part of me sassily adds, and I feel my cheeks pink slightly.
'Stop it.'
Peggy turns from Steve, catching me staring after Charlotte and the soldier. She gives me a pointed look, arching her brow; the expression on her face clearly tells me that she knows some—if not all—of my thoughts.
"Steve," she looks over her shoulder at the Captain before turning back to me, "this is Agent Magennis of SOE. D—Agent Magennis, this is Captain Rogers."
"Steve," he says as he shakes my hand.
"Danica," I reply.
After a few moments of exchanging pleasantries, the three of us part ways, with Peggy and I returning to our tent. As we begin to pack our belongings—though the order to clear out hasn't been given yet, under the circumstances it's obvious that a return to England is in the not-too-distant future—she attempts to draw me into conversation.
“Dani, can you believe that Steve rescued those men all by himself?! Isn’t that incredible?!”
“Mm-hmm,” I noncommittally reply.
“And can you…”
Peggy’s voice fades into the background as my mind drifts, and while I ‘mm-hmm’ and nod at appropriate times during her monologue, I’m content to let her blather on. She doesn’t seem to pay any mind to my near-silence, never missing a beat in her gushing about the Captain, which allows my mind to fully focus on the thoughts swirling within it…thoughts of that absurdly-good-looking, dark-haired soldier.
'Stop it,' I again tell myself. 'A man who looks like that is definitely an operator. I mean, it's obvious that he and Charlotte were going t—"
"Agent Carter! Agent Magennis!" Colonel Phillips's voice carries through the open flap of our tent, pulling me from my thoughts.
Peggy and I exchange a look, then—with matching sighs—make our way to the main tent.
request: hey if you have room for a red, white and royal blue fic. Could you do a henery x male reader who is a photographer and is hired to take pictures for the royal family because Henry has s fat crush on him
warnings: none
it was really nice working for the royal family, they had good hospitality, and were incredibly nice, plus the pay was amazing so it would have been insane to not take a photography job from them, all you had to do was snap a couple pictures of their beloved and sometimes stuck up child prince henry.
it was a little bit of a challenge navigating the castle but you did end upo finding the place you were supposed to take the photos at, you set up your gear and camera and just as you finished henry walked in "oh hi mr henry i was just putting the last touches on everything" you say with a smile standing up straight to shake his hand, henry stood there dumbfounded by your good looks "sir" you chuckle.
he snaps back to reality and shakes your hand firmly, maybe a little to firmly as you had to pull your hand out of his tight grip "sorry just a little nervous" he nervously chuckles obviously awkward "oh, well nothing to be scared of just gotta take some quick pictures" you reassure sweetly.
"okay" he calms down a little "alright so stand right there on the little x and then do a nice pose" you say fixing the camera to look at him, he poses and you take a couple pictures before leaning up to examine them "are they good" henry asks "not really you just look a little to tense" you reply.
an idea pops in your head right then "lets do some silly poses to lighten the mood' you say "really" henry says not amused by the idea "yes really it'll work" you say setting the camera back down and aligning it with henry "do something like this" you say doing a crazy pose that makes henry laugh and after some hesitation he agrees and does it.
you laugh at the boys silly pose which makes him burst out laughing "okay okay now lets take these pictures" you say still chuckling lightly before snapping some pictures of henry in a more calmed and laid back state "perfect" you say turning the camera to show henry the pictures to which he agrees with you.
as you're admiring the photos to make sure they're all good henry quickly glance at your face, the way it looks,how soft your hair must feel, and your lips oh. my. god. he wanted to kiss you so bad but refrained from doing so, he turned his gaze away as you turn to look up at him "so i guess we're done here" henry questions.
"yeah i think thats pretty much it" you say before packing up your stuff and putting them into their bags, henry standing there fiddling with his cuff links nervously wanting to ask you out but not having the courage "your pictures should in the mail by tomorrow" you say as you head towards the door.
"wait" henry blurts out "yes"you question turning around "what if i come by your place and pick them up myself" henry shyly says "oh yeah sure" you agree "and maybe after we can get dinner" he adds "are you asking me on a date" you ask walking closer to henry "yeah i guess i am" henry says before you kiss him on the cheek "well then its a date" you smile before walking out, henry could feel his face heat up as he blushed and thought of the date tomorrow
Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 165 (Lavender's Last Toddler Days)
A month without Ash at home was practically impossible to believe, but they were grateful to have Daisy, Holly, and Betta around. Without Ash to help, Lavender often read to herself - she was almost five and could read entire children's books on her own, but Heather and Conrad weren't entirely sure their voracious reader wasn't just doing it from memory.
Conrad cleaned to settle his mind, and Heather was doing everything she could to keep her spirits up. She couldn't go to work while the clinic rebuild was underway, but she took walks down to Dachshund's Creek between spring rain showers. She even managed to find a puffin feather, which allowed her to hang the completed collection in her downstairs bathroom.
But she still thought things without Ash were a drag, and the bees in their backyard hive noticed she was less attentive in her fog. They made sure to let her know how they felt about it, while Gord barked helplessly to try shooing them away!
Having her mother, sister, and niece in town always helped distract her and Conrad from endless guilt, but overhearing her sister on the phone with Mortimer Goth, she cornered her over a game of chess.
"I've tried not talking about this to comply with Judge Marlow, but I've been curious about something ever since Felix and Lilith got back. Did you happen to find old photographs of Lady Ravendancer Goth and Admiral Landgraab together at the Goth Archives?"
Holly froze. "Y-yes. Mortimer thinks they were taken at a Simlan-"
"Simlandia Builders' Gala in Britechester on July 13, 1920? Felix and Lilith were there that night and they said she was wearing the necklace from the Selvadorada museum."
"Really? Like really?"
"Yeah. Ash's time travel device worked. Felix secured a patent under a corporate trademark to protect Ash's privacy and prevent proliferation of unauthorized devices."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you?"
Holly sighed. "We weren't trying to lie. We were trying to keep your stress down with the baby coming, because we found the photos bookmarking the decursify spell in a first edition of her book of spells. After the custody hearing, we were waiting for Mortimer to get through more research."
"Felix said the photos were given directly to Lady Ravendancer herself. Apparently she was home and expecting a child and-"
"She was?" Holly gasped.
"That's what he said."
"Mortimer said that after his grandfather Victor was born in 1917, his great-grandparents all but became estranged. If Lady Ravendancer was pregnant in 1920, it was probably Admiral Landgraab's!"
Heather sighed, far less excited by this apparent breakthrough. "If Lady Ravendancer was interested in the decursify spell and having a child with a Landgraab, that must mean the curse is real."
Holly vehemently shook her head. "Heather, we still don't know that. This is why we didn't want to say anything right away."
"Sometimes it feels like the curse has already been working it's way into our lives for years already," she lamented. "All because I thought I might like to date Malcolm Landgraab."
Heather's gloom was expected under the circumstances, and Holly refrained from reminding her of all the incredible things she had achieved. "Everything will work out," she said instead. "I'll get Mortimer to reach out to Felix and Lilith in case it helps his research, and we'll get to the bottom of this Landgraab Curse business one way or another. We're all invested now."
"If the judge finds out we're chasing a curse we'll never get Ash back."
"Then let us look into it. You know we have your best interests at heart, and we'll bend over backwards to help make sure Ash comes home for good."
Heather pushed out a smile as the sisters shared a hug. "I know you will. I understand why you kept this from us for now, but I'm glad you've told me. I promise I won't fall apart and I'm sorry I've been such a mess."
"Nobody blames you. Ash doesn't even blame you, I'm sure of it."
The family carried on as best they could until Ash's first visit back home. On the morning of Lavender and Betta's birthday, the family woke with a certain spring in their step. Conrad woke early to take the dogs to run around the creek, finding Heather up when he returned home.
"Morning, gorgeous," he said sweetly.
"Hey," she said, shifting uncomfortably with her hands on her belly. "He's kicking up a storm this morning."
With a smile, Conrad placed both hands on her stomach, eyes wide with excitement as he felt the colossal kick. "Maybe he's an athlete," Conrad joked, before turning his attention to their son. "Be good to your mother, kid. She's been keeping you nice and comfortable for a long time."
Heather froze. "He stopped! For now."
Conrad grinned. "Today's already a great day. Kid's resting, Ash is coming home, and Lavender knows she's getting cake."
Heather grinned. "We need a good day."
When Conrad returned from work that evening, emotion washed over him the minute he spotted his stepson playing with Gord in the front yard.
Ash was thrilled be be home with his family, and happier still to celebrate with cake. He'd be home all weekend and would even get to see Heather's completed clinic rebuild before he'd have to head back to the city, but the Gordons were just happy he'd sleep in his own bed again.
With Lavender and Betta both pushing for cake, Conrad didn't even have time to change out of his work clothes before the toddlers were gathered in the kitchen. Daisy lit the candles, and Conrad brought his daughter to the two-tiered white cake.
Lavender blew with all her might and a cloud of smoke replaced the yellow flames. Five candles down, and the legacy heir was getting bigger by the day. ->
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Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary
Lavender's child look will be revealed on Thursday, and Betta will age up, too! That's two kids in a row where I've done that, had the candles blown out to end the post with the reveal coming in the next installment. I need a new gimmick, but not today!
How is Peru? Does the heat suit you? Dear Aunt Victoria is ever so nervous that you'll be kidnapped or murdered or something of the sort. She insists that anyone south of America is entirely barbaric - nonsense, I think, but it has begun to make me nervous. Please tell me everything, and send me a photograph if you can!
All is as well as ever in New York. I've settled in wonderfully, and I am pleased to say that the city suits me very well. I met with Julian at a little restaurant recently, and he told me some fantastic news: He has met someone! And not another pretty blonde boy, but a proper woman. (Thank God!)
He said she was very beautiful. I have insisted he bring her to dinner with the Dardens soon, to which he emphatically agreed. I must go now to help Aunt Victoria set up, but I shall continue this letter after I return, and let you know what I think of her.
I have learned a great deal at dinner tonight. Her name is Magdalena Dupree, she is indeed very lovely, and just about everyone seemed to like her except for me. I am not entirely prone to liking people, however, so I shall blame it on myself, and not her. Little "cousin" Celestin especially seemed to take a shine to her, and would not stop chattering away throughout all of dinner. It was a mercy when Aunt Victoria sent him up to bed.
Magdalena said she was a musician, and Julian added that they had met while she was performing at a restaurant near Columbia. I have my doubts about that (I suspect she is a different sort of performer) but I thought it sensible to refrain from sharing them for the moment.
Regardless, the evening was a success, and it was such a pleasure to see dear Jules growing up a bit. He's even crafted himself a horrid little mustache! I shall have to try and secure a photograph, it's abominable. I hope you're well, and please do write me again soon!
Your loving sister,
Olivia
Playing with SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules
Summary: Request: @sydthekid1518: I had an Idea for a draco fic, where y/n is a ghost that’s fairly popular with the students and staff, and draco falls for her and stuff? And then maybe y/n and Harry create a plan that would allow reader to come back to life and stuff and be with draco.
A/N: Happy spooky season to all and to all a good night filled with Draco Malfoy. I’m so excited about how this turned out and that I got it done before Halloween because the odds weren’t looking to hot not gonna lie, but here it is and it’s beautiful. As always, let me know what y’all think,,,
“Y/n, please don’t disturb my students,” Snape droned with a monotone voice.
“You’ve got no power over me, Severus,” I laughed, ghosting away from his Slytherins working on Polyjuice potion.
“But I do have control in this classroom, dead or not Miss Y/n, this is my domain,” Snape argued, ruffled.
“I’m eternally bonded to this school. It’s my domain more than it is yours,” I countered, perched on his desk.
“Blasted ghosts,” A boy muttered, catching my attention, “No respect for authority,”
Tilting my head, I made my way over to him, studying the young Slytherin. He was about the age that I was when I had died, moved on, crossed the veil—whatever. His steady grey eyes and twisted sneer told me all that I needed to know about him.
“Another Malfoy,” I mused. “Interesting... And where’s your respect for the dead Mr. Malfoy?”
His eyes went wide at the idea that I was addressing him at all. Like I spooked him. Imagine that, a ghost spooking someone.
“Enough Ms. Y/n. Kindly refrain from scaring my students if you must stay,” Snape intervened. “I’m not scared,” Malfoy shot back.
“Boo!” I teased before passing through the walls of the dungeon and into my favorite spot in the entire castle, even living: the library.
I never had so much time on my hands before being dead, and now I could just take a book and read. Pince had been able to enchant them in such a way that I was able to hold them and turn their pages still. I was in the middle of a riveting tale about a boy who never grew up and had his destiny forced upon him and could fly. Perched on one of the tops of the shelves, I was lost in another world of magic.
“I didn’t know you could read,” I heard the same condescending voice from Severus’ potions class earlier that day.
“Little Malfoy,” I smiled down at him, closing my book. “And why would you assume that? I don’t look that stupid, do I?”
“Well, no,” He fumbled. “But you’re a ghost, you’re dead,”
“Yes, and I like to read, anything else?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t call me little Malfoy. My name’s Draco,” He huffed.
“But it annoys you,” I mocked a pout. “And you are a little Malfoy, a bit taller than your father, but young all the same,”
“Who are you calling young? We’re the same age,” His voice raised enough that Pince had to shush him.
“I was born in 1776, I think you’re a little young,”
“1776!?” Draco’s eyes bulged. “But... how? You’re...” Pince hushed him again. I floated down and perched on the desk, trying and failing to contain my laughter.
“Oh, so now you care little Malfoy?” I teased lightly. “What happened to your dismissal of spirits not hours ago?” He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared and didn’t dare to meet my eyes. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you some time, but you’re going to be late for McGonagall if you don’t get going,”
Flustered, Draco headed out of the library and I watched him go. Knowing that Remus had a class this hour with the infamous Harry Potter, I headed over and perched on a desk in the back.
“Miss Y/n,” Remus acknowledged, “Perhaps you’d like to aid us today as we learn about ghosts and spirits?” Even though he had grown quite a bit over the years, there was still the same shine in his eyes when he was able to teach—even if it wasn’t a rag-tag group of marauders.
“So... you’re a ghost?” A young Hermione asked, a girl who spent a lot of hours in my library.
“Yes,” I smiled at her. “There are different types of ghosts however,”
“Oh, yes, Poltergeists, Funnels, Whisps, Orbs, and Shades,” She said matter-of-factly.
“Exactly, and Hogwarts has them all,” I looked to Remus who nodded for me to continue. “Most of you know that Peeves is a Poltergeist, a trickster loud ghost. Sometimes they were loud and violent, sometimes... well sometimes you have something like Peeves.” The class laughed.
“I’m sure you all have heard of the Grey Lady?” Remus interjected. “Helena Ravenclaw was murdered by the Bloody Baron and spends the rest of her days here at Hogwarts, they are both what we classify as Funnel ghosts. Ghosts who visit loved ones or loved places,”
“What about Whisps?” An intrigued Weasley asked.
“Well, most others are Whisps,” I explained. “Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, and most others you see strolling about. There is no strict reason that they’re here, other than they chose not to move on, or felt their work on earth was not completed.”
“Orbs are normally the spirits of animals or humans travelling about,” I continued, “They mainly show up in photographs. It wasn’t till after I died that cameras were invented, and they were found,”
“Any what kind of ghost are you?” A shy kid in the back asked. The class of kids turned to me, all expectant.
“I’m a Shade,” I explained. “It means that when I died, I wasn’t meant to. My soul knowing that, remained, and here I am,”
“Shades are very rare in the Wizarding World,” Remus cut in, “Not many are killed before their time, and many of them are very young,”
“Aren’t Shades allowed to come back though?” Hermione asked. “Because they were wrongfully killed? Doesn’t fate allow them another chance?”
Remus and I shared a look. I remembered when he had asked me that same question when he was no more than a third year as well. There was a solemn sorrow in his eyes.
“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. “There is a possibility, but the odds are almost impossible. Most of them have to do around prophecies.”
Class had ended, and Hermione waved as she went to leave. I lingered behind a bit with Remus for old times’ sake. He was one who had always been kind to me. I was one who never judged him for being a werewolf before he found his marauders.
“Sirius escaped from Azkaban,” He whispered softly, his gaze fixed on the papers on his desk. “I... I thought I was over it. Over him. He had my best friends killed,”
Pity flooded my chest as I hovered over to him, my hand ghosting above his.
“That wasn’t your fault Remus...” Was I going to give away the truth that I knew? Or would I keep it a secret? “And it wasn’t Sirius’ either,”
“How can you say that!” Remus slammed his hand on the desk. “He gave away Lily and James’ location! Then he killed Peter!”
“Remus,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you everything, because it’s not in the stars, but... your friend isn’t who you think he is,”
A quiet moment passed between us and rather than get upset at me like I had thought he would, he spoke softly and surely.
“You’re... you’re saying there’s hope?”
“There’s always hope,” I offered a soft smile. “For all of us... even me,”
“How are you doing with that? The prophecy?” He asked.
I sighed and shook my head. “I might really be stuck like this for the rest of... forever...”
“Is there anything...?”
“No,” I denied softly. “Interfering with a prophecy can ruin it,”
“Can,” Remus stressed. “Not that it will,”
“But is it worth that risk?” I countered. “I could lose my one shot to come back. To be human again,”
“If I could be human again, I’d take any chance I could,” Remus’ eyes held a sadness that very few could sympathize with. One of those was me.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I murmured and let him be, drifting around the halls for a bit then back to the library to think some more and maybe find the right answer.
What I didn’t expect to find however was Draco, fast asleep where we had spoken earlier, draped over a few books and handwritten notes. I hadn’t noticed the late hour, sometimes time did elude me, and the days seemed to run together.
I didn’t want to wake the young Malfoy, instead, I peered at the books underneath him. Potions books, it seemed. Supposing that a Slytherin might have a partiality to Snape’s class, there was no need to question why he’d rather work on this subject than the others. Knowing Pince would chase Draco out of the library if he didn’t wake, my notion to not disturb him fell to the wayside.
“Malfoy!” I whispered loudly. “Draco, wake up!”
It was useless to try and shake him awake, I wasn’t able to. I could however pull the book out from under his resting head. So, I did.
“Bloody hell,” Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What’d you do that for?”
“You fell asleep?”
“And that was the only way you know how to wake a person?” He snapped, blinking into consciousness.
I gave him a flat look and reached out to touch him. He shied away, but it was in vain because my hand passed right through his material body.
“Oh,” He muttered. “But you can touch the books?”
“Pince and I worked on that together,” I informed him. “Did you think I would spend eternity and not figure out how to read?”
“I... uh,” He stammered, blushing a bit. “How come I’ve never met a ghost like you before?”
“And that means?” I pressed, perching on the desk.
“Well, all of the other ghosts are... I don’t know... stuck in their ways? Not sad about being ghosts? Haven’t kept up on things like reading?”
“You think I’m sad about being a ghost?” I mused.
“I... you—I mean,” He stammered, looking down in embarrassment. “You just seem... optimistically hopeless,” It was almost mumbled through his exhaustion.
“You know those words have opposite meaning, right?” I teased softly. “And... I’m a Shade. I doubt you’ve met another before like me,”
“A Shade?”
“Do you not pay attention in Remus’ class?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t have his class until tomorrow,” Draco dismayed. “And it’s a stupid class anyway,”
“Defense against the dark arts isn’t stupid,” I refuted. “Especially with Remus teaching it,”
“You knew him then... when he went here. Professor Lupin,” Draco noted.
“Yes,” Lost in thought, a quietness passed before I spoke again. “When you learn what a Shade is, you’ll understand,”
“You could just tell me,” Draco whined, listlessly tired.
“But then you won’t pay attention in class,” I smiled. “Go on to bed, Draco. I’m not going anywhere,”
____________________________
Draco sulked in bed that night, thinking about you. Thinking about what a Shade was. Of course, he didn’t wait for class in the morning, instead he took out his DADA book and began to read up on ghosts. And he read. And read. And read. And barely found anything about what a Shade was. All that he knew was that you died when before your time. Maybe that was why he saw the sadness in your eyes.
He had every intention to be at Lupin’s class that day, but having Mythical Creatures beforehand, things hadn’t gone as planned.
“There’s always one,” Your voice sounded amused. “Why am I not surprised it was you, Little Malfoy?”
“It was the bloody hippogriff,” Draco snapped back.
“And somehow I don’t think that’s the entire truth,” You mused, hovering at his bedside. Until Pomfrey gave him the clear to leave, he was stuck with you.
“Won’t you just leave me alone?” He groaned, closing his eyes and laying back on the lumpy pillows of the hospital cot.
“Did you not want to learn about Shades? You’re going to miss Remus’ class after all,” The smile he heard in your voice made him look over to you, skeptical.
Your offer was tempting. Very tempting. He didn’t care much about magic other than excelling at it, therefore things that didn’t pertain to his advancement—mythical creatures and the like— held no inkling to him. And yet, you were a mystery he didn’t mind learning about. He wanted to know more about you. And you specifically.
“I guess, since I’m stuck here,” He tried to play it off as nonchalance, but you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his charade.
“Well, Little Malfoy,” You hovered and perched on the end of his bed. “What do you know?”
“I... uh. Shades are people who have died before their time,” He stammered, not sure why he was so nervous.
“Quite,” You nodded. “Anything else?”
“Our book didn’t have anything else,” He admitted.
You went pensive a moment then nodded. “I suppose that you’d learn more about me in Divination than the Dark Arts,”
“Divination? You’ve got to be bloody joking! That class is a circus!” Draco exclaimed, wincing when he moved his arm too much.
“Perhaps,” You didn’t berate him, but seemed to be lost in thought once more. “But all Shades are tied to prophecies.”
“All of them?” Draco pressed.
“The fates understand that these souls left before their time, and give them another chance, a prophecy... to come back and live one more time.”
“So, you have the chance to live again?” His genuine curiosity seemed to shock both of you. “How?”
“If the prophecy is fulfilled, then I get to live again,” You said it as if it were obvious.
You laughed something sad and soft. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve read every prophecy, every book, every scribble. I’ve tried everything... after so many centuries, you give up hope and accept your fate,”
“But this wasn’t your fate,” He argued back. “You were meant to live, back then, whatever that life was,”
“Do you know what happened when I was young, before I died, Little Malfoy?” You spoke, and he could hear the age in your voice though you liked no older than he was. It was your sorrow that aged you. He waited for you to continue. “I was born in 1776, the year the Americans went to war with the King of England. At the time we were living in the French countryside with my aunt because my father had gone to fight in the war. He was a general,” A smile ghosted your lips. “My father died in the war... the battle of Yorktown... that’s what it’s called today. Back then it was just a letter and inheritance money that went to my brother,”
“Hang on, you’re saying that your father fought in the American War of Independence? Under the king?”
“So, he can be taught,” You smiled at him. “Yes, the king at the time was a wizard and until parliament and the ministry were born and declared that muggles and wizards should rule themselves. Of course, the ministry was formed in the beginning of that century, but it took the war for them to call the final straw.”
“So, your father died in the war, that doesn’t explain what happened to you,” Draco pointed out, deeply invested.
“Well, tell me, what happened in France after that war ended?”
“The French Revolution,”
Your warm smile had the same effect as the sun. “Yes, and as I said, I was in France at the time, being tutored at home for the summer. Muggle girls weren’t allowed to go to school back then... I travelled to Hogwarts to receive schooling and even then, I was only allowed to learn Herbology and Potions. At least those two classes stayed the same,” You sounded sad and wistful. “But the revolutionists were going for the rich, any sort of rich. And at the time, they saw knowledge as wealth and power, and I had a reputation for being able to read and attending a private school out of the country and well...”
“They killed you because you knew how to read?” Draco distressed, sitting up, enraptured by your tale. “That’s so... stupid,”
“It was. But perhaps it was my own fault, I wouldn’t deny that I could read. I was proud.” Your smile faded again as melancholy settled on your face. “Now it seems that’s all I do. Fate is funny like that...”
“You’re free to go Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice seemed to draw you both from whatever world had been created with your words.
He had to blink a few times to come to grips with the fact that he was currently in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and not centuries behind, trying to imagine death for the reason of knowledge. There was an awkward moment between the two of you as you both seemed to realize that you were no longer int eh late eighteenth century. You offered a smile and left without another word, a curious look on your face as you left.
That was the last time he saw you that day, and that week for that matter, but he always wondered what you were doing. What were you reading today? What was your prophecy? Was it really as hopeless as you said it was? Was there a reason that he found himself caring?
______________________
“Oh, hello Harry,” I stood from the corner of Remus’ office, intrigued that the young Potter had come. He looked so much like his father that my heart ached for Remus and to imagine what he felt when he saw Harry.
“Y/n,” Harry seemed surprised. “I... uh... you know Professor Lupin?”
“Well I was here when he went to Hogwarts himself, so yes, I’m quite fond of him if you can believe it,” I smiled as Remus eyed the situation.
“Is there something that you needed Harry?” Remus asked, trying to sound professional, but I could hear the sentiment in his voice.
“The map...” Harry turned slightly pink.
A smile grew on my face. “You have the Marauder’s Map?” I almost laughed. “How in the world did you get that? Oh, if your father knew,” I did laugh this time.
Remus shot me a sharp look and Harry looked at me in wonder.
“My father? You knew my father?” The realization seemed to dawn him.
“Yes, well,” Remus interjected sharply. “Don’t get caught again Potter,”
“Why haven’t you told him?” I demanded as soon as Harry left. “Remus, come on, that’s not fair to Harry,”
“I’m not the one to tell him though! I can’t be!” He protested and I could hear the anxiety in his voice.
“Remus, I’ve known you a long time. And I’ve known James and Lily. They would want you to talk to him. They would want you apart of his life,” I argued, or perhaps encouraged softly.
“Maybe you’re right,” Remus mumbled.
“Of course, I am,” I smiled. “It’ll work out Re, with Sirius, and with Harry,”
“I hope you’re right,”
I left him to his thoughts and on my way to the library, I was ambushed by the younger Potter. Not that I wasn’t expecting it, I knew that Harry would have questions for me as soon as he knew I knew his father.
“Hello Harry,” I smiled.
“You know about my dad,” He burst out, hope in his eyes and tone.
“And your mother,” I smiled and perched on the windowsill nearby.
“Can you tell me about them? Please?” His eyes went glossy with tears that he blinked away.
“Your mother was bold, but still kind and gentle. She looked out for the little guy. She rooted for the underdog and protected the younger years of any House. She was always kind to me. Her and Remus both.” The memory was fond, if it was a memory. Did ghosts have memories after they were dead?
“And my dad?” He clung to every word.
“He... was a bit like you. Always finding trouble whether it was his fault or not. Totally deserved to be smacked a few times... but the war changed him. He grew up rather quickly. Into a protective caring young man. Almost everyone had eyes for him, but he only saw your mother,”
“Do... you think they would be proud of me?” His gaze dropped to his beat-up sneakers.
“Harry,” I called his attention. “You’re their son, they’ll always be proud of you,”
“But—”
“No buts,” I interjected. “That’s all it takes for you to make them proud, I promise,”
He nodded and mumbled a thanks before taking off toward the Gryffindor dorm. Finding solace in the library, I began to read again. Maybe a week had passed. Perhaps two. I wasn’t sure. I was so wrapped up in my books that I became lost to time. Until a blond-haired boy came in, his nose stuck in a book.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again Little Malfoy,” I smiled, from my perch in the library. He didn’t acknowledge me, causing me to frown. “Draco?” I ghosted down and perched on the table next to him. “Are you ghosting a ghost?”
Though he ignored me I could see the smile that twitched at his lips. That gave me little hope. “Is everything alright?” I asked, genuine concern coloring my voice.
“Ask Potter,” Draco snapped. “You seem to fancy him lately,”
“Excuse me?” I was taken aback. “Harry? He just wanted to know about his parents, that’s all,”
Draco frowned at this and he finally looked at me. “His parents?”
“Yes,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he has a lot of people who know his parents and are willing to tell him anything. Dumbledore has made almost everyone vow not to talk to him, but what good is a vow to someone who’s already in the grave?” I shrugged. “Poor kid knows nothing,”
“I...” Draco didn’t seem to have the words. Instead he looked back down at his book. I smiled and rolled my eyes at his antics.
“If you care that much, you are still my favorite Little Malfoy,” His cheeks tinged pink and I laughed. “You’re something else Malfoy, you know that?”
“Says the girl who died for admitting that she could read instead of lying,” He raised an eyebrow at me. I chuckled and shrugged.
“Says the boy who avoided me for what, two weeks, because I talked to a boy about his dead parents,” I mused.
“It wasn’t two weeks,” Draco grumbled. “Nine days,”
“Oh, forgive me,” I laughed. “Nine days.”
He smiled and looked back down at his notes. I think it was the first time I had ever seen him smile and not sneer.
“So, nine days,” He prompted. “I assume you haven’t left the library... read anything interesting?”
I laughed and somehow the hours passed as Draco and I spoke about books and stories we had read as kids, and the ones we were currently invested in. It shocked me to know that he was an avid reader, of fantasy novels, nonetheless. Though I had read just about everyone that he had mentioned, there were a few that I added to my mental list of his that I said I would check out. He seemed sincerely happy at my interest of the books he read.
“Father thought they were childish,” He muttered when I asked him about it. “Fairytales and fantasies,”
“That’s stupid,” I scoffed, and Draco gaped at me, aghast that I would dare to call something his father said ‘stupid.’ It made me pause. “You... you know you don’t have to always agree with your parents,”
His gaze cast downward. “I don’t want to disappoint them,”
My face furrowed. “You’re they’re son, that’s enough for them to be proud,”
“You don’t know my parents,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I think the last time they were proud of me, is when I was sorted into Slytherin.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I protested.
“You don’t know my parents,” Draco argued again.
“I do,” I retorted. “Or I did,”
The notion seemed to dawn on Draco as he stared up at me with wonder in his eyes.
“You did,” He realized. “Can you tell me about them... have they always been so...”
“Strict?” I offered.
“Suffocating,” Draco supplied.
I pressed my lips together and thought a moment.
“Your father, perhaps. I never spoke to him much, and he never paid me mind. But you mother,” I smiled at the memories that came flooding back. “She was bold, cunning. She loved her sisters with a fierce passion.” My smile. “The three of them were some of the brightest witches I’d ever seen,” I glanced over to him. “You have her eyes, her same spirit,”
A smile drew on his lips as his face turned a soft shade of pink. “Do you know that because you’re a ghost?” He mused.
“No, I’m just a girl who can read character pretty well. After seeing so many faces pass through here, and reading so many stories, there are those who stand out and stay with you. Your mother... she stood out to me. And I can see her in your eyes,” My demeanor softened as I realized the words I was saying and if I could have, I would have blushed.
“Thank you,” He whispered as the clock chimed a late hour.
“You should head back,” I sighed softly. “Get some rest,”
“Why don’t I ever see you near the Slytherin dorm?” Draco asked, gathering his things.
“I’d rather not cross paths with the Baron,” I admitted.
“The Baron? Why?” Draco frowned; his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Never you mind,” I smiled. “Get to bed Little Malfoy,”
“Don’t call me that,” He grumbled, trudging out of the library.
The night progressed as did the month and I went from one book to another, soon searching for a book I hadn’t in a long time. My diary from when I was alive. Published as its own book that I had found a few decades ago. Tucked into the pages was what held my fate. My prophecy.
I went to the shelf in which I knew my book had its home, but it wasn’t there. Instead a sliver of time carved away by my missing book. Drifting over to Pince I asked her about where my book had gone. She told me that Malfoy had checked it out and had it for about a week—since the day we spent in the infirmary together.
For the first time in a long time I felt... embarrassed that my story and thoughts were on display for anyone to read. I never cared before, but this felt different.
Cursing the late hour, I knew that there was no way to get to Draco now. The Bloody Baron was protective about other ghosts coming into the Slytherin dorms. I’d have to find him in the morning then. I considered loitering outside the Slytherin portrait, but I also did not want to go anywhere near the Bloody Baron. I had heard and read enough.
So instead I headed to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars again, having silent conversations with them, wondering if they’d ever grant me life again.
“You’re glowing,”
The voice startled me enough that I actually jumped. The irony of scaring a ghost. I turned to see Draco behind me, his eyes glued to my shimmering skin.
“Yes, all ghosts do it under the moon and stars,” I noted. “By the way, can I have my book back?” I stood, going over to him.
“Your book?” He questioned.
“My book,” I restressed. “My diary? That you have from the library? The one that has my—” I stopped myself.
“Your prophecy.” Draco finished, offering me the book that he had drawn from his robes. “Yeah, I know.”
I stared at him curiously, pulling the book back into the security of my arms, where it belonged. That uncertain feeling returned to my chest.
“You know it’s rude to read a girl’s diary,” I retorted, defensive.
“It’s a published book in the library, anyone can read it,” Draco rolled his eyes. I gave him a flat look and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, have you figured out what it means?”
I sighed softly and shook my head in defeat. “The only thing I’m sure of is the great star is Sirius,”
“Sirius, like Sirius Black? Escaped Azkaban criminal?” Draco exasperated.
“Well, the star is his name sake. But I’m sure you of all people know that Draco,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your family has a knack for celestial namesakes. If I remember correctly, Sirius is your mother’s cousin,”
“What?” Draco demanded. “No! There is no way!”
“Draco,” I reached out for him in vain as he paced in anger and confusion. “Draco will you calm down?” I nearly shouted.
“Calm down!? How can I when I know that I’m related to that criminal!?” He demanded.
“Sirius isn’t a criminal!” I argued back. “He didn’t kill Peter or those people!” I gasped, covering my mouth in shame, my eyes wide. That was a secret that I wasn’t supposed to tell.
“What do you mean he didn’t kill those people?” Draco sneered, stalking up to me.
“I—I’m not supposed to...” I took a step back, ghostly tears welling in my eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to... Merlin,” I cried, sliding to the ground.
Draco’s demeanor changed from anger to worried and concerned. Not that I noticed through my distress. I felt as if I had just betrayed one of my best friends.
“Y/n, what... what in the world are you talking about?” Draco asked sitting beside me, a failed attempt to reach out and comfort me.
“I promised. I promised I wouldn’t tell what I knew until the time was right,” I sobbed. “Bloody hell, he’ll never trust me again,” I squeaked.
“Who?” Draco demanded.
I looked at him, wide eyed with fear, shaking my head softly. “I... I can’t. I’m sorry Draco,”
I dematerialized and rematerialized in a quiet portion of the castle grounds, away from the rest of the students, among the woods. The trees welcomed me and the further I walked in, the less tied to the castle I felt. I came to a lake and sat beside it. Crying tears that would never fall in my undead state, I stared at the water and my lack of reflection.
“I’m so sorry Sirius,” I wept softly. “I didn’t mean to tell him... I was just defending you,”
“I’m surprised you kept the secret this long,”
Again, I jumped, startled by the voice behind me.
“Hey there Spooks,” Sirius gave a lopsided smile, the years in Azkaban resting in his eyes and in the lines on his face.
“Sirius,” I gasped. “What are you doing? It’s not safe here!” I protested.
“I couldn’t leave my girl to cry, now could I?” He smirked, before his expression sobered.
“You should,” I sniffed. “I’m so sorry Sirius, it slipped out,”
“I know,” He held his hands up in a calming effort. “I knew it would, and it’s okay. Who did you tell? It wasn’t Moony was it?”
“No,” I looked down. “But you need to tell him Sirius, he deserves to know,”
“He won’t even talk to me. He thinks that I betrayed James and Lily and killed all of his friends,” Sirius toed at the dirt—the same tick he had in his Hogwarts years when he had been caught in a lie or prank.
“But you didn’t,” I protested. “He still loves you Sirius, I can see it in his eyes and when he talks about you and James...”
“He—no,” Sirius shook his head. “That’s not for you to worry about,”
“Do not make me mother you,” I threatened. “Talk to Remus,”
“I will,” Sirius sighed. “When the time is right,”
“As a girl who’s waited for centuries for the right time... talk to him as soon as you can,” There was a pity-filled look on his face that I brushed off.
“Any luck with that? Your prophecy?” He seemed almost hopeful.
“No,” I sighed. “But there is one who took the time to ask this year. Like Remus did his first year,” The memory was a soft spot for both of us.
“You were his first friend,” Sirius smiled at the same memory. “So, who is it this year?”
“Little Malfoy,”
Sirius snorted. “We both know you don’t have a sense of humor, drop the act,”
“I’m ser—” He gave me a look and I paused to rephrase. “I’m telling the truth. It was Draco who asked, who read my diary, and knows about the prophecy,” I hesitated. “He’s also the one I told,” My gaze dropped to the ground waiting for the backlash.
“Malfoy!?” Sirius demanded. “You told Malfoy!?”
“I’m sorry! I told you I was sorry!” I shouted back, bristling, feeling my body shudder. Sirius seemed to notice and took a few paces away and composed himself.
I dared to speak. “All he knows is that you didn’t kill Peter. That’s all. I’m so sorry Sirius,” I turned, and he was gone. “Fine! Leave!” I shouted. “Like always... like everyone...”
I let out a scream of frustration that was carried away with the wind. Letting out a sigh of defeat I wandered up to the castle again.
“Y/n?” For the third time tonight, I jumped at the call of my name. It was Draco again.
“Draco, look,” I started. “I...”
“No,” He stopped me softly. “I’m sorry... I...” He shook his head and took off down the hall towards the Slytherin dorms. Chasing after him, he was too far gone, and I was face to face with the Baron.
“Oh, could this night get any worse?” I shouted to no one in particular. “I don’t mean to trespass, apologies.”
“Stay out of my territory and away from my students, you little harlot,” The Baron sneered.
“Gladly,” I growled back. “Arse,” I muttered as I ghosted back to the upper levels of the castle.
Utterly lost on what to do, I found myself by the Black Lake, staring up at the moon and stars. I stayed there until the sun rose over the dark waters, painting the valleys in a golden light. I remained there, watching the sun and moon dance in the sky in an unchangeable waltz that continued for eternity.
“They said you were out here,”
I didn’t jump this time at the sound of his voice as the moon rose to her duet again.
“Hello, Draco,” I murmured softly. “Come to watch the stars with me?”
“Sure,” I could hear the smile in his voice as he sat beside me on the bank of the lake, the only sound was the music of the night, the lake lapping at the small beach, and his gentle breaths.
“I... I’m really sorry,” He murmured softly. “For that night, I didn’t mean to get so angry. I wasn’t upset with you...” Silence fell softly between us. “My parents never told me... I wrote to my mother...” My eyes widened as I gazed over at him, his pale skin almost having the same affect that mine did in the moon light. “I never knew...”
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
“Merlin don’t apologize to me,” He laughed hopelessly.
“Well I did sort of freak out on you, so... sorry.”
He shrugged and his gaze fixed on the moonlit water. “My father thinks it’s absurd that I’m talking to you... and I think my mother is slightly worried about me for it,”
“Any particular reason?” I mused.
“Father has always been against those different than him in any way... my mother probably worries that I’m not making friends...talking to ghosts...” A smile toyed at his lips at the mention of his mother.
“Are we not friends then?” I teased lightly, causing him to laugh.
“Sure,” He rolled his eyes at me, this time causing me to laugh. “Do you miss them?” He asked after a quiet moment.
“Who?”
“Your parents... your family?” He seemed almost afraid to ask.
I pondered the question. “Yes, sometimes... but I’ve spent a lot of years wasting tears that will never fall over people I can never see again... you move on and learn to live after a while... well as much as a ghost can live,”
“You can’t cry, can you?” He came to the fact easier and saner than most did.
I shook my head. “I can feel bitter sorrow, the worst loss, but I can never shed a tear,” I chuckled humorlessly. “The irony, I have the most to mourn and I can’t even cry,”
“I’m sorry,”
I shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time without being able to cry... just reminds me that I’ll never be quite human again,”
“But you could be,” He had more hope than I ever had about the fact.
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That stupid prophecy,”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,”
“You’ve haven’t spent centuries wondering what it meant,” I argued back:
“In the days when evil lurks around every corner;
The condemned will become innocent;
And the innocent will become condemned;
True love can reanimate a deceased heart;
Under the star of Great Dog;
She will become alive as time is altered;
Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.”
“True love,” I scoffed again; my lips pressed together. “Like some sort of stupid fairytale,”
“I thought you said that fairytales weren’t stupid,” Draco raised an eyebrow at me smirking.
“They’re not,” I rolled my eyes. “Believing that there’s true love out there to save me? That’s stupid,”
“Then maybe there’s no hope for any of us,” Draco sighed. “If someone like you can’t find true love, where’s the hope for the rest of us,”
A smile ghosted me lips at his words as I looked over to him, his eyes still trained on the water.
“You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that Malfoy?” His eyes darted to mine as his cheeks tinged pink.
“Will you come back inside?” He asked softly. “The library isn’t as interesting without you there,”
“Sure,” I smiled warmly at him.
Fall turned to winter turned to spring, and Draco and I spent a lot more time together than I cared to admit. He was almost easier to talk to than anyone else I had met. And that was saying something, because I knew Remus Lupin, who was fascinated with my fascination of the young Malfoy.
But all the same, I found myself crave Draco’s company more and more and cursing the Baron for not letting me see him while he was in his dorm. It was rough when he came down with a cold and I wasn’t able to see him for a week. No number of books could distract me from the fact that he wasn’t there to talk to. That he wasn’t here to talk to me. I had never missed anyone like this before.
But when he felt better, we’d press curfew to mere minutes just to get another word in with each other. Then he’d have to be human and I’d have to remember that I didn’t belong in his world and never could. It didn’t stop me, however, from finding and talking to him the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.
Then there was a day in late spring that caught my attention as Sirius had finally gotten to Harry and his friends, but things had gone from bad to worse as I watched the scene unfold, doing the only thing I could think of, I spirited away to find Remus. He would know what to do, he would know how to help.
After I had explained what I had seen, Remus grabbed his wand and took off towards the Whomping Willow. I followed him, and as soon as I left the castle, I felt the dark presence of the dementors around me.
“No!” I shouted, going up to meet them, and for the first time in a long time gave into my spiritual power, long enough to hold them off and let Remus pass through safely.
I hovered over the Shrieking Shack, keeping the dementors as bay, away from Sirius, away from Remus. They didn’t dare to go near my pure light that was amplified by the full moon. Soon I saw the three of them emerge, Peter in chains, when the light of the full moon hit my little Remus.
With a cry of desperation, I did my best to keep the dementors away as I watched the horrors unfold before me before I couldn’t take it any long and chased after Remus, who was not a wolf into the wood.
“Remus!?” I shouted; my voice lost with the wind. “Remus, it’s me! Please come out!” I caught sight of Hermione and Harry and gestured that they should leave, and quickly. “Remus!?”
I heard a growl and turned, seeing golden scared eyes.
“Hey,” I cooed softly. “You’re alright, you can’t hurt me,”
A pained howl left his lips.
“I know,” I replied. “But you’re going to be alright, let get you back, yeah? To Prongs and Pads, they’re waiting for you.” Tears I wanted to cry weren’t shed at the pitiful heartbreaking whine that left his lips.
But he let me lead him back to the Shrieking Shack all the same. I stayed with him until McGonagall and Dumbledore came. There was a soft thank you from the both of them. I drifted back to the castle, pacing in anxiety.
“Y/n?” It was Draco’s voice. I turned.
“Draco, it’s not safe!” I squeaked. “What are you doing out of bed!?”
“I had to see you,” He confessed. “There are rumors, about Black and Lupin... I thought you’d... Are you alright?”
“Draco, really,” I glanced around, cursing that I couldn’t drag him inside to where it was safer. “It’s not safe for you out here,”
“Bloody hell, Y/n, what about you!?”
“I’m already dead! So, unless you’d like to join me!” I shouted, realizing after the fact what I had said. “Draco, I didn’t mean that,”
“You’re keeping things from me,” It was a broken accusation. “About Sirius, about Remus,”
“Draco, please,” I pulled away. “I... I have to go, I have to make sure that he’s alright,” My eyes trailed up to the top of the tower, knowing that I may have been the reason that Sirius was in chains again.
“No!” Draco shouted, drawing my attention.
He had never demanded anything of me before, not like this. It wasn’t the fact that he told me to stop, it was the notion that he had found his own voice in it that caused me to pause. I waited for him to continue.
“I’ve spent all year, all of my three years here, knowing you, and getting to know you and I’m not going to let you walk away again! I want to know! I don’t want this you can’t tell me act. If anyone, you can tell me. Can’t you trust me? Please,” His voice broke, unshed tears in his eyes.
“Draco,” My non-material heart broke a bit as he stood before me, vulnerable. Shaking and terrified I nodded. “Remus... is a werewolf. Sirius is an Animagus. Peter betrayed the Potters, and Sirius went to confront him. Peter faked his death and killed all those people and it was blamed on Sirius...” In my nervousness I began to ramble:
“...and Sirius and Remus confronted Peter tonight and Harry and his friends were there and I had to fight off dementors so that Sirius would be okay because I couldn’t bear to see him get hurt for something he didn’t do and then I had to go and help Remus because it’s a full moon and he won’t hurt me but for the love of merlin he will hurt you so will you please go inside!”
Draco gaped at me, in utter disbelief.
“Please Draco, go inside,”
“Only if you come with me,” He recovered.
My thoughts for Sirius were forgotten as I took a step closer to him. Instead, all I could see and focus on was the heartbreak on his face and the hand that he held out for me. A hand that I wanted to accept but knew that I couldn’t because I would phase right through him. Never had I loathed being dead so much but in that moment when all I wanted to do was comfort him.
For the first time in almost two hundred years, tears slid down my cheeks. I barely noticed.
“Please,” His voice shook as did his hand as it remained extended to me. “Please, Y/n,”
The moon fell behind the mountains as the sun shed her first light onto us.
And with reckless abandon, I reached out for him, for his hand. In desperation and false hope, closing my eyes, knowing my heart would never break more that in the next few moments for not being a part of his world.
Then my hand felt softness and warmth.
I gasped and jerked back, and Draco seemed to realize this as I did.
“You just...” He stammered.
“I...” Trembling, I held my hand up, the sunlight no longer passing through it but refracting off of it. I finally reached up and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks as I gasped in pure joy.
“I’m human,” I laughed, “I’m human!” I marveled at my rosy skin and the soft green fabric of my dress as I felt the grass beneath my feet. After a moment, I, at last, looked to Draco, who seemed to be frozen in a state of wonder and disbelief, and almost... scared.
“Draco,” I called softly, “It’s me,” I offered my hand to him, the grin not leaving my face.
“You’re... and...”
I nodded and smiled, taking a step closer to him. “Not scared of ghosts, are you?” I teased softly.
He finally laughed and took my hand, pulling me close, into the comfort of his arms. I began to cry again because for the first time in two hundred and fifty years, I was hugged. I clung to him, my fingers marveling at the softness of his shirt, trailing up into his hair.
“Merlin,” Draco pulled away softly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,”
Before I could ask him what he meant—or argue that I had been waiting longer than he ever had—he pressed his lips to mine, and in that moment, I swear I could have died all over again in his arms.
.
In the days when evil lurks around every corner,
The condemned will become innocent,
And the innocent will become condemned.
True love can reanimate a deceased heart,
Under the star of Great Dog,
She will become alive as time is altered;
Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.
Picture Perfect | Aftermath of Picture Perfect Headcanons | Smile For Me
Warnings: Manipulation, Slight non-con
Word Count: 2.5K
A/N: I’m gonna do a part 4 with the pregnancy so keep an eyes on that ;P
He watches you, edging closer to the bubble you’ve created around yourself. The way you make sure that not a single thing of yours touches someone or something and that not a single thing that isn’t familiar touches you. He can walk close to you- enough to see the red lines around your neck and he salivates, spit pooling in his mouth. As perceptive as you are, you don’t seem to notice him. There’s something deeper inside of him now. It isn’t lust that he feels for you. It’s deeper than that, something more, something that makes his chest ache, that makes him want to do something idiotic and he does. It’s daylight, the sun is out and you’re safe. Eyes and hands will stop from any crime being committed upon such a sinful, innocent person. It’s easy for him- everything is when it comes to you- all he has to do is reach into your pocket and slip out your phone, he’s sure someone has caught him in the act, but no one says a thing. Slender fingers tap against your shoulder and you jump and you look at him with wide, tearful eyes and there’s a shock that shoots straight to his crotch, awakening his flaccid member.
“I’m sorry to startle you, miss, but it seems like you dropped your phone.” He holds the phone, hands large and imposing, covering all of the device, knowing you’ll have to touch him to retrieve it.
You look down at it and then back to him and his smile never wavers. “I- Thank you-”
“Danny.” You were never going to ask his name, he knows that. You’re too scared to do anything like that. “You can call me Danny.” He smiles sweetly at you and he has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop the growing smile when you fingertips touch against his fingers.
You clear your throat, a forced smile making its way onto your lips and while he knows that it makes sense, he can’t help but feel anger at the expression given to him. “Thank you, Danny.” You pull on the phone, holding it tightly in your hands. “I uh- I hadn’t noticed it fell so thank you.” Your foot turns, ready to turn your body and he pushes forward, so desperate to continue talking to you.
“You uh-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, walking beside you- “You seem a bit stressed, everything okay?” You glance at him through the corner of your eye and he can only give you a practiced nervous smile. “I really don’t mean to pry-”
“Then don’t,” you cut him off, hurrying your steps. “I’m fine. Thank you for picking up my phone but I have to get going.”
The corners of his lips pull downwards. Fury hammers at him, his hands curling and brows furrowing. “Listen, I’m just trying to say that you seem a bit stressed. Are you sure you’re okay? I work for the news and I know there have been a number of break ins-” that word causes you to flinch- “and I don’t want to leave you scared during this difficult time.” He makes sure to stumble in his footsteps when you turn a corner, jogging slightly to catch up to you, hands pushed into his pockets. “You’re shaking, you know?”
You falter in your steps and he has to refrain himself from smiling. “You’re being sweet and I- I appreciate it but really, I’m fine.”
“How about we go get some tea?” You turn to look at him and he considers it progress. “I think coffee might do you something bad, so tea sounds nice, right? Have you had bubble tea before?” Your eyes light up and his smile turns softer. “I’ll pay. Listen, I’m not trying to do anything weird, I just wanna make you’re okay before you go back home. I know a scared face when I see one.” You just need a little push and he can provide that. He stands in front of you and the tip of your sneaker nips at his, and holds his hand out to you, unblemished and giving. “Would you like to go get bubble tea with me?” Your hand twitch, fingers curling to place themselves against his only to pull away and he’s sure that if he hadn’t ruined you, you would have touched him. You nod your head, your answer a soft whisper and tears welling in your eyes and he does not comment, only smiles and holds your hand. “Great. I know the perfect place.” You’re already so broken, all he has to do is show you a bit of kindness and he can fix you.
-
You are curled up against Danny under a thick blanket, hands interlaced as you both watch the news, the tone somber as the woman recounts the latest murder. Your thumb rubs against his knuckles, the room quiet. It takes all his might to avoid looking down and seeing your reaction. He can remember the murder quite well. He’s just surprised it took them so long to find the body. It wasn’t as if he had hidden it but he must have mistaken the kindness for people to check up on others. He mistakes the kindness that you have for others. It was something that happened, a pull on his heartstrings with the time he has spent with you.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Your thumb stops its melodic rhythm. “All the murders. I man, it’s just one guy and they can’t even seem to find him.” You laugh and it’s bitter, empty and makes a shiver run down his spine. “You- You go there, right? To take photos and stuff?”
“Yeah,” he responds, reaching over to grab the remote, holding his hand over the pause button, waiting for the right moment to hit it. “I get a few things, nothing ever tramuzitng, by the time I arrive the body is gone and there are markers all over.” A still image of Ghostface appears, he’s frozen in time, a hand raised with fingers curled in a mock greeting with the knife raised. He can feel your body stiffen, the small breath of air that is sucked into your body and the way your nails dig into his skin. “I’m safe, you know. I’m not leaving you anytime soon. Plus-” he turns his hands over, grabbing yours roughly- “the murderer never returns to the scene of the crime.”
“I just-” your voice shakes and he wonders if you’re going to tell him the details of your encounters with him- “I worry.” He frowns. It seems like you won’t.
It’s his fault, of course. He’s ruined your trust in people, invaded every aspect of himself into you, has felt your body as you cried and he was so sure that the last time he was here- which at this point was months ago- that he had gotten you pregnant and yet here you are with a regular period and consuming what you want without worry. But he can’t give up hope- you let him have a key to your place, you spend the nights with him or vice versa, you kiss him against the lips, breath shaky and hands gripping onto his shirt like it's a lifeline while it is a peck, he has to rush somewhere hidden to fist his cock in his hand and think of the way you’d be so giving and so fearful to him. It’s like you’re teasing him on purpose.
“Look at me?” He asks, already grabbing your body and turning you over. You look at him, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips, eyes wide legs straddling him, your clothed cunt pressed against his crotch and if he closes his eyes he can imagine the smell of it. His hands cup your face, encasing you and forcing you to look at him as the image of Ghostface is frozen on screen. “I’m going to be okay. No silly murderer who hides his face is going to get me. After all,” he smiles, leaning close to you, “I’m just a photographer. It’s not like I know anything.” He presses his lips against you, your words muffled against his tongue.
His hands slip down your face and onto the curve of your neck. He can feel your body stiffen, the soft murmur of his name on your lips, the way you latch onto his shirt and tug on it, scratching your nails against the soft cotton. His hands lower, hands slipping down over the curve of your chest, your legs instinctively trying to squeeze together, only to rest against your stomach. A hand curves to your back, sliding under your shirt where his fingertips tap lightly against your bare back. His other hand slips under the front side of your shirt, trailing above, fingers ghosting over the soft curve of your stomach until he reaches the band of your bra, his hand cupping a breast and your hands on him go flat, a feeble attempt to push him away as his hand pulls down your cup, exposing your breast, a hardened nipple poking against the palm of his hand. Danny wonders how close he can get until you really try to get him off of you- until you’re crying and hitting against his body, until all the small progress that you’ve made with him can be broken once again.
He tries to restrain himself, to hold back any of his primal urges to claw at your skin, to mark you until you’re sobbing against him. The most he allows himself to do is pinch at your nipple which makes you whimper against him, your hands now clawing at his chest and he can pretend for a second that you want this as well, trick himself that you’re gentle shoves that grind yourself against him are on purpose. He’s gasping against your mouth, pushing himself close to you, spit dribbling past the corners of both mouths. His fingers are pinched against your nipple, pulling taut on it and twisting it until your body goes rigid and he can hear a cry of pain muffled by the wretched kiss he’s placed onto you.
It isn't until you bite against his lip that he lets go. He curses, bringing a hand up to cusp the wounded piece of flesh that burns. Other than the small curse that leaves his lips, he’s calm, cupping his clothed mouth allowing for the blood to pool and fill his mouth with poison. You, on the other hand, are a mess. You’re entangled in the blankets, kicking them off, crying and sniveling, trying to fix where he’s touched only to start sobbing when you mimic where he had just touched you.
“You know, if you wanted to bite, you have to be a bit gentler than that,” he tries to joke, letting his tongue graze over the wound, blood spilling onto the flat of his tongue, filling his mouth with copper.
His fingertips touch against his lip, a thin, shining blood on his finger pad, staining him in his natural color. His eyes glisten, fingers still as he stares in fascination. His mind is fuzzy, static stuffed inside as the room is filled with a high-pitched noise, eyes never wanting to look away from the blood on his fingers- from his own blood. He never took you for the type to fight back. He meets your eyes- cruel, wicked eyes that meet fearful ones, ones that are rimmed red and look upon him with the same look that you gave him many nights before when he’s invaded your home. His fingers curl, the palm of his hand dotted with the same blood that had been spilled by you.
“I- I told you to stop,” you hiss, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket until they’re spilling from your hand, bringing the bundled bunch to your chest, where it rises and dips with such exaggeration. “I didn’t want to.” He tilts his head, his nails digging into his palm. You keep your gaze on him, never faltering, never looking anywhere else. “I’m-” more tears well in your eyes, voice cracking and a shiver runs through his body- “I’m sorry, Danny.”
With a sudden switch, he’s snapped back into reality. His smile is warm, gentle even, as he opens his arms and welcomes you inside, staining your bicep with his blood as your sob into his chest. He smiles, his fingers dancing along your spine in a spindly dance. You clutch onto him and he shushes you gently, letting you apologize and cry as he watches, so desperate for you to know edge closer to him and feel him poke against you, so perverted to have you never find out how your tears excite him more.
He moves slightly, a soft press of his chest against your body, and you collapse further into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing against him, no doubt feeling him and you remain silent save for your sobbing. You refuse to say a single word about your disastrous meetings with Ghostface, even as he stares right at you through the television screen. You don’t speak ill of the monster who holds you in his arms. You hold the monster tight, finding comfort until your sobs have turned into hiccups and whimpers, until you’re kissing against his bitten lip, your lips shining with a thinned blood that appears almost pink on your lips.
“I didn’t mean to push you so much,” he says, his hand flat on your back. “I just thought we had been dating for so long and well-” he sighs, pressing his lips against the crown of your head- “I didn’t mean to push you. There’s no excuse for that.” He moves, squirming under you and you rise, looking at him with
“I just- I don’t have the best record with relationships.” He can feel your hesitation, the way your body tenses and the clawing against his shirt. “I don’t want to get into it,” you finalize, doing your best to not look at the screen where the image remains still, never moving and always taunting you. You pull yourself away from him, standing with your back faced towards the killer and he watches, eyes darting to the door where you begin your descent, his hand barely missing yours when he reaches to hold it. “I’m going to go home.” You turn to look at him, your mouth pulled into a straight line. “I’ll uh-” you stop midway, cutting yourself off as you lower yourself to the ground, adjusting your shoes and tightening the laces. Your hand wraps around the door knob, the humid air outside making you freeze, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You look at him, a tense smile stretched on your face, as you give him a short wave goodbye. The door closes behind you and he collapses onto the couch, hand unzipping his pants and wrapping around his throbbing member, hissing at the contact.
