#I ONLY NEED HIS SWEAT DROPLET IN MY LOVE POTION. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

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clean up on aisle seven!

word count: 3.3k

genre: casual fluff :)

summary: you really didn’t want to go on this grocery trip. and now you’re stuck trying to track down that last thing your mom needs while the clock is ticking before she checks out. but something (or someone) might just make you lose track of time.

This is your worst nightmare. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths were shallow and staggered, and you could feel droplets of sweat quickly accumulating on your forehead. You’d just suffered finals week and you could definitely say this was the most stressful situation you’d experienced in your life.

This might be where you die.

Actually, if you died now, your mother would drag you back from the grave and kill you again for being so dramatic.

You were standing helpless in the middle of the produce section of your hometown’s grocery store, desperately looking for the red potatoes. And while you frantically scanned for the vegetable- Are potatoes vegetables? Maybe they’re starches. Or a root. It isn’t important. What is important is that you have no clue where they are and your mom is currently in the checkout line, wondering what’s taking so long.

Onions, leeks, asparagus, radishes, cabbage. . .

Maybe you were looking in the wrong place. You circle the aisle, hoping you don’t look like a madwoman as you wring your hands and tug at your hair.

You were a STEM major, for god’s sake! You just crushed your sophomore finals (maybe. probably. you completed them, it’s all that matters), you were not going to let some stupid red potatoes and a fear of abandonment you’ve harbored since childhood distress you in this way.

Spinach, lettuce, carrots, celery. . .

You know, you never should have agreed to go on this grocery trip. Just an hour before now, you’d been comfortable in bed, sleeping in to your heart’s content. But it’s the holidays and you know your mom likes to run her errands with someone and the guilt was just too much. So you let her drag you out of bed and you barely got to brush your teeth before she was dragging you out of the house, too. You probably looked like a wreck. You sure felt like one.

Tomatoes, avocadoes, peppers. . .

Normally by now you’d suck it up and ask an employee for help like the adult you were supposed to be, but, just your luck, the entire section is void of any workers. Honestly, good for them. You’re sure they’re tired of dealing with hopeless idiots like you, anyway.

Garlic, strawberries, blueberries. . .

Who puts garlic next to strawberries? And how did you end up in the fruit section? Even you could do a better job organizing this place. Or maybe you have poor observational skills. You decide not to dwell on which thought is more correct.

You rush back to where you started, begging your eyes to actually work and help you with this one task.

And then: a miracle. Yellow potatoes! You scan the vicinity and...

No red potatoes to be found. Maybe there’s no such thing as red potatoes. Maybe your mom just wanted you to go away for a while. Well, no, that can’t be it. You’re certain you’ve had red potatoes before.

The stress was getting to you. By now, your mom was probably loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, annoyed at your slow pace and mind.

You know, in many other situations you’d actually consider yourself good under pressure. Put you in a lab coat and in front of a titration and you were a goddamn genius, if you did say so yourself. But once you weren’t poring over textbooks or analyzing data, you felt completely useless. Ask you to cook and you’ll set the kitchen ablaze. Anything more athletic than a casual jog is off the table. Your friends often joke that you can’t even be trusted with a microwave. For good reason. How were you supposed to know those chicken sandwich bags can’t go in the microwave? They’re made of paper.

Other shoppers bristle past you to grab their own groceries, but all you can do is reply with a few murmured “sorries” and stand in the middle of the place looking like a lost puppy. To them, you look utterly distressed. A few shoppers consider asking if you’re okay, but little do they know there’s only one question plaguing your mind.

“Where are the motherfucking red potatoes?!”

You didn’t mean for it to slip out, but at least there’s no one close enough to hear-

A giggle rings from the other side of the waist-high aisle you’ve been staring at. Your eyes slide up to meet the gaze of a boy not too much taller than you- kind of cute too- but the important thing is that he’s staring right at you. Very obviously trying (and failing) to fight an uncontrollable grin on his face.

Your cheeks heat like a furnace. All you can do is stand and stare, caught red-handed cursing over produce at the corner grocery store.

The boy with full, boyish cheeks, twinkling eyes, and a very cute smile that you might consider infectious in any other scenario leans forward on the tips of his toes and peers at the side the aisle you’ve been intently gazing at for the past several minutes. To your horror, he lifts his finger and points just inches from where you were just looking.

“Maybe right there?” It isn’t said sarcastically or with even a hint of ridicule, but despite his genuine nature you only grow more sheepish. You wish you could shrink into your sweatshirt and never come back out.

You lower your eyes to the direction he’s pointing and lo and behold, there are several bags of red potatoes just under your nose.

“Oh. . uh. . Thanks.” You tentatively reach and grab a bag, your eyes not leaving the boy’s face. You can’t help but notice the line forming between his eyebrows and the way he cocks his head to the side. Now, that you think about it, there’s something distinctly familiar about him.

“Wait, Y/N?” Your eyebrows raise, and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs to know that you somewhat recognize him too. “I’m Jimin!” He continues when you don’t respond. “We were best friends when we were, what, six or seven?”

The memories immediately begin rushing back. Though many of your memories from back then have faded, you can remember very distinctly the elementary days full of you and a younger version of the boy across from you causing mischief. More specifically, the two of you thought up increasingly risky pranks to play on your parents and friends until one or both of you got the scolding of a lifetime. You’d nearly completely forgotten about him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you finally manage. “It’s been a while.” Jimin circles to your side of the aisle.

“Oh my god! When was the last time I saw you?” Jimin thinks for a moment. “Wasn’t it your birthday party? When we hid in the bathroom cabinet and it took them hours to find us!” The memory has the both of you giggling.

“Yeah! My mom would have grounded me for scaring her so badly if it wasn’t my birthday.” The atmosphere is comfortable. Almost as if it had been no time at all.

“I think if anyone was scared, it was you. Weren’t you terrified of the dark?” You blush despite the ridiculousness of his teasing.

“Hey! I talk to you for two minutes after all this time and you’re already back to making fun of me?” Despite their legitimacy, the words carry no malice and you’re grinning from ear to ear. A smirk plays on Jimin’s cheeks and you catch yourself studying his features. It should seem normal, but you’re slightly struck by how much he’s grown up. His baby fat is long gone, replaced with a striking and defined look despite his sweet and boyish features. His brunette locks are neatly cut, his bangs complimenting his cheeks and forming a slight heart shape on his forehead. He’s cute.

If you weren’t so caught up in your own embarrassment, you might have noticed the endeared look he’s giving you as he studies your face at the same time.

“What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “You’ve always been easy to tease.” You scoff, shifting the bag of potatoes in your arms.

“Speak for yourself, crayon-eater.” Jimin’s giggle is infectious, drawing a snort or two out of you, though you desperately try to play it off as just a cough.

“Where did you end up going? I never saw you after that.”

“Ahh, we moved to the other side of the city. It was pretty sudden.” Jimin nods in understanding.

“I guess you moved again for college, too?” he asks tentatively, gesturing to your sweatshirt. You glance down at the university logo before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, I’m just back for the holidays. You?”

“I go to university in the city. Just picking up some groceries for my family. I tend to do our grocery shopping on weekday mornings anyway, since most of my classes are in the afternoon.” You learn that Jimin is a communications major, which you think suits his personality spectacularly. Jimin is not even close to surprised to find out you’ve dedicated yourself in chemistry.

“And to think, just yesterday we were making potions from mud in your backyard. You’re practically a prodigy. Can I get your autograph? You know, for when you become a famous scientist saving the world and all that?” You shake your head, noting that Jimin is just as ridiculous as you remember him.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you muse. “But I’m leaning more towards education. I’d like to teach high schoolers one day, maybe college students too.” Now that strikes Jimin as a surprise, evident by his shocked expression. You can’t help staring at the way his lips puff out in an unintentional pout.

“Really? You want to deal with those brats? We just left high school and you already want back?” If your mom thought you were a drama queen, Jimin had you beat tenfold. He’d always been a bit of a class clown, always supplying exaggerated expressions and stupid jokes to garner as many laughs as possible. You roll your eyes.

“They’re not that bad.” You pause. “Well, they are pretty bad but I think I could get through it if I knew I could make at least one kid excited about science, you know?” You inwardly cringe at your mini-spiel. Normally once you get talking about your love for chemistry, your friends zone out or casually change the subject to avoid massive boredom. But to your surprise, Jimin doesn’t seem the least bit annoyed at your sappy, nerd-ish outlook on your career. Instead, he’s nodding with you, attentive and interested.

“That’s. . . really nice.” You blush, stopping yourself from going on a further tangent, sure he has much better things to be doing than listening to you go on and on.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You twiddle your thumbs and Jimin tugs on the sleeves of his oversized sweater. “Do you still have that cat? What did you name him... Snuggles?”

“Chubbles!” he nearly shouts with a massive smile. “And yeah, I do. He’s still overweight as ever. And old as hell. But I love the grumpy thing to pieces.”

“He was so cute! I remember cuddling with him while watching cartoons together.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That was the only time my mom would let me eat in the living room. I swear those waffles tasted better in front of the tv screen.” The story sparks a memory in your mind.

“Hey, wanna know a secret?” Jimin leans in slightly, confused but definitely interested. You pause for effect. “My mom didn’t let us eat in the living room either. I only said that because you wanted to and I thought it’d convince your mom.” Jimin feigns a gasp, putting a hand on his chest.

“Are you serious? I was jealous of you for years after that and it wasn’t even true? You said your family always ate in the living room.”

“I may have exaggerated a lot of things back then in order to impress you.”

“No way. Then do I really know you at all? Was everything a lie?” You find yourself laughing again. Talking with him is easy, like being kids again.

You shrug. “I like to maintain an aura of mystery.” Now Jimin’s the one rolling his eyes at your antics.

“Hey, speaking of Chubbles, do you want to see a picture of him? My mom posted the best picture of him on Facebook the other day.” Jimin whips out his phone. While others might find a college student doting on his cat and his mom’s Facebook a bit dorky, you find it all too endearing.

“Um, of course!” You step towards him to peer at his phone. But instead of cat pictures, all the two of you see is an endless loading screen.

“Shit. My service sucks out here. I’m sorry.” He gives an apologetic look, but you’re quick to brush it off.

“No, it’s okay. You can just send it to me later.” The connotation of your words hit you like a freight train and you’re about to not-so-eloquently take them back, but Jimin beats you, a smile is plastered across his face. A part of you wants to reach up and squish his cheeks together, but you don’t need to create any more reason for the other shoppers to think you’re unhinged. Also, personal space.

“Oh, great. I’ll just get your number-”

“Y/N.” You freeze, your head whipping around behind you to where your mother stands. She glares at you with her hands set on her hips, no groceries in sight.

“Oh, um, oops.” You muster the best smile you can but your mother is anything but amused. “I found the red potatoes!” You hold up the bag that’s been making your arms ache, as if that would magically fix the situation. She scoffs.

“And while you did, I checked out, paid, put the groceries in the car, and realized that we’d already gotten red potatoes. They were just piled under all that sugary cereal you insist on-” Her eyes flicker to the boy standing awkwardly behind you when she lets out a scream of joy. “Park Jimin!” She nearly shoves you aside to wrap him in a hug, instantly recognizing him despite years of not seeing him. Though if Jimin’s mom is active on Facebook, you guess your mom has seen plenty of Jimin via social media. While you stare incredulously at your mother, Jimin is staring at you, internally laughing at your expression.

“How’s your mother? Is she well? Healthy?” Jimin nods with a charming smile.

“Yes, she’s great.” Your mom is clutching Jimin’s hands as if she’s in her seventies and not her forties. Jimin awkwardly shifts his grocery basket to his elbow, but your mom pays no mind to the uncomfortable position he’s in.

“Oh, you’ve grown so much! I can still remember the days when you two were taking baths together!” Your face blanches while Jimin chokes. Knowing the volume of your mom’s voice, you’re sure the entire grocery store knows your and Jimin’s history now. “You know, I was just thinking about your mother the other day. When we were pregnant with the two of you, we-”

“Hey, Mom.” You place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you think we should get going? The groceries are in the car...”

“Oh! You’re right, sweetie,” she smiles. It seems that all it took was Jimin’s charm (and by charm, you mean standing there with that grin of his) for her to completely forget about your previous transgression. She turns back to Jimin. “It was lovely to see you, dear. Please tell your mother I said hello. We really should have a get-together over the holidays, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mrs. L/N,” Jimin says, his eyes trailing to you. “Sorry for keeping your daughter. We were reconnecting and lost track of time.”

“You’re too sweet. I’m sure my daughter was the one babbling on about whatever popped into her head next. It’s no wonder she got lost looking for potatoes, she’s so easily distracted. You know, we had to put her on a leash as a child.” Your cheeks flush red while you get the sense that Jimin is enjoying this a little too much, despite his awkward smile.

“Oh...” You can tell he’s doing his best to spare you the mortification, but if anything his efforts to conceal his laughter only make you more eager to end the conversation.

“Uh... Mom... Groceries...”

“Fine, fine. You didn’t seem to care that much when you were flirting in the produce aisle.” Now that is the final straw.

“Mom! Oh my god, let’s just go.” You feel like a teenager again, embarrassed and at your mother’s mercy. “Bye, Jimin! It was nice seeing you!” You grab your mother by the elbow and nearly drag her out of the store, tossing the red potatoes back onto the aisle as you go. You barely catch Jimin’s weak wave as you storm out.

“He really is such a sweet boy, I’ll have to give his mother a call.” Call. That’s right. You forgot to give him your number.

On pure instinct alone, you spring around, abandoning your mother in the parking lot to sprint back inside.

“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back! Start the car!” Your mother sighs and shakes her head. You imagine she’s pinching the bridge of her nose and wondering how her child still acts like a seven-year-old chasing after butterflies.

You find Jimin not far from where you left him, skimming through the juices. You do your best not to show how heavy you’re breathing or how you’ve nearly broken a sweat. And you curse yourself for not using the university gym more often. Upon seeing you reappear, Jimin’s face lights up, albeit somewhat confused.

“Oh, hey.” He holds up two jugs of orange juice. “Pulp or no pulp?” You freeze for a moment.

“Pulp. Obviously.” Jimin nods in agreement, putting the jug in his basket. He looks at you expectantly. “And I forgot to give you my number.” You quickly catch yourself. “For that Chubbles pictures.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Jimin’s hand rises to the back of his neck nervously as you punch the digits into his phone, making a contact for yourself. If your friends saw you now, they’d think you’d been replaced by aliens or finally gone over the edge. But something in you just had to do it.

“Send me that picture, yeah?” You hand him back his phone.

“Of course.” Jimin gives you a salute, making you giggle shamelessly again. With nothing more to say, you spin on your heel and speed walk out of the store to be mercilessly interrogated by your mother.

Jimin shakes his head and smiles to himself as he watches your retreating form. He makes a mental note to go through his mom’s scrapbooks to find a childhood photo of you two to use as your profile picture.

While your mom is berating you for wasting time and questioning your intentions with Jimin, you couldn’t be happier, grinning from ear to ear. Didn’t Jimin say he did the grocery shopping on weekday mornings?

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” You nod vigorously, which is enough for her when she switches to ranting about gas prices nowadays.

But in reality, you’re not listening at all. You’re planning your next grocery trip.

At least next time you’ll know where to find the motherfucking red potatoes. Though you doubt you’ll need to remember. Something tells you Jimin will remember this for a long time too.

#bts #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin scenario #bts fluff #kind of boring but short and sweet (i hope)

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violetnotez · 5 years ago

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Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

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You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

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The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

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For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

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The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

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

You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

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

Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

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

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

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

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

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

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

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

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

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elswordimaginesdrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Lap of Gold

Liberator x reader

he feels ooc to me in this one

Noah story somewhat spoilers

Noah had quite the exhausting day. He'd listened to Ventus retell the adventures of the El Search Party in Varnimyr; Clamor wouldn't shut up afterwards, teasing the kid because of his childlike curiosity.

There was one thing left to do before retiring to his bed. The highlight of his time in Elrianode which was seeing a certain individual of the Landar camp.

That person happened to be you, brewing a vitality potion in your tent. It wasn't the wisest idea, seeing as you've set fire to it multiple times because of your shenanigans. Fortunately, there were many spares but you got scolded quite a bit.

Noah tried his best to make his presence known, by clearing his throat right outside your little shelter. You were too immersed in pouring tiny droplets of substances upon other tiny droplets of substances to hear anything.

Clamor made his discontent known: 'Kid, that was the most pathetic attempt at catching someone's attention I've ever seen. I've lived thousands.'

The boy got flustered and hushed him. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the tent. Only then did you finally take notice of your visitor.

"Ah, Noah! I'm glad to see you! I'd tell you to come test my newly brewed potion, but I'm not sure of the side effects just yet," you giggled. He smiled softly and sat down next to you.

The faint bags under his eyes bothered you more than a bit.

"Have you been sleeping well lately?"

He shook his head, "I've been having some nightmares. Is it that obvious...?"

"Yes, and I have just the cure for it. A good night's sleep! Or at least a nap. Come put your head in my lap."

"Your, what?" mouth agape, he stared. Clamor was having a chuckle with their interaction and he made sure to let Noah know: 'You might as well confess at this point; the scene is set!' Since he was in front of you, he couldn't scold Clamor. Instead, his cheeks were tinted pink from his words.

"What, you've never laid your head in a lap before?" You seemed to be clueless.

"N-not really... but where did you get this idea?"

"I used to sleep in my sister's lap all the time when I was little. It helped a lot, especially when I was having nightmares," you shrugged. "It might feel a little sudden, but we've been talking for a while. It's fine right?"

He couldn't say no, because he didn't want to in the first place. Noah was a little reluctant to make the first move, but who wouldn't? A subtle encouragement from you was all it took for him to sigh and actually lay on your lap, closing his eyes.

"So I just have to sleep like this?"

"Yep, and don't be afraid. If you're having any bad dreams I'll wake you up, okay?" you let your hand pat his head, the gentle touch making him melt more into your thighs. It sent a shiver down his spine.

He was a little too nervous to fall asleep; he pretended to do so.

"Ah, I can't work on my potion like this... Why didn't I think of that before?" you whispered. To fill your time, you ran your fingers through his soft hair. "Good night, sleep well."

Of course, you didn't stop the touching and because of that his heartbeat was going haywire. Noah gulped, doing his best to keep calm.

You started humming a lullaby and he wanted so badly to doze off. No matter how much he wished it, he just couldn't.

"Hush, hush, go to sleep, little baby~"

"I'm not a little baby."

His curt reply startled you out of your trance.

"Gosh, I thought you were asleep. It's been a while, why aren't you?"

He opened his eyes slightly and looked up, only to realize it was a little embarrassing to face you in that position. He preferred total darkness to it.

"I can't... I don't know."

"Seems this isn't working out very well. I'll lay out a blanket and pillow for you, you can sleep in my tent if you'd like," you prepared to take him off your lap.

"I-I don't really want to get off you either..." he mumbled, pushing your hand away.

"Okaay... What do you want me to do then? Keep singing? Or maybe pat your head more?"

"Whatever you want," he blushed, his ears reddened as well. Clamor went to sleep not too long ago and he was very glad for that. He could have a little peace and quiet with y/n. "Why are you going this far anyway?"

"Because I love you."

He shot up, hitting your chin pretty hard. The two of you moaned in pain, holding your injured spots.

"That's one hell of a hard head you got there... This might leave a bruise, oww."

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," Noah spoke, rubbing his head. He didn't know whether to ask more about your possible confession or not. The situation had turned a tad bit awkward with seemingly no way out of it.

"You must have been taken by surprise I know," you had your mouth covered, still hurting. "But how could I not love you? It's really easy to."

When you used the same words, he realized there was only one answer he could give: "I feel the same."

"You think it's easy to love yourself?"

"N-no-"

"Awe, I'm just kidding, don't get too flustered on me. I can't handle when you're this cute!" The compliment made his ears go even redder. "This is where I go in for the kiss, right?"

"I think, you're moving a little too fast?!"

To contradict his words, you inched slowly towards him and cupped his cheek with your palm. Staring deep into his eyes, he stared into yours; they appeared to glimmer in the dimly lit tent with certain intentions, or so it seemed to Noah. He didn't hesitate and closed the gap in between, with a light peck at the corner of your lips.

"You're such a tease~" you winked and glanced behind him. A silhouette was standing right outside. Would you let that interrupt the moment?

"Did something happen?" he was a little concerned at your lack of response. He was worried he might have done something to upset you, but quickly he disregarded the thought and kissed you once again, fully. He pulled you closer onto him by the waist; feeling daring, Noah gently ran his fingers across your back, over the fabric of your clothing. Did he want to tickle you? Well, two could play that game.

With your lips still on his, you smiled as your hands found his hips. And on they went! Relentless, you tried to find his weak spot. It didn't last long, since he attempted to push you away in a giggling fit.

"N-no, I'm sensitive-!"

"What are you two doing in there?!"

You and Noah were petrified. His face turned a few shades whiter and you gulped.

"S-sis? Did you need me for something?"

"Yes, but are you doing something inappropriate? Now's really not the time," her stern voice made you sweat.

"Of course not, we were just tickling each other!" right as you said that, Noah's thumb traced across the back of your neck. 'Payback', his innocent smile seemed to tell.

"Yuria is sick, I need some of your most potent potions, and yourself. Right now."

His hand dropped and so did the mood. Noah ran out of air, it felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. 'Not again, not now,' he was so afraid to lose everything he'd gained up until that point. He was so afraid of losing you. The tips of his fingers were numb and he was so very cold inside a supposedly warm tent.

He never wanted to go back to that empty headache, the chilly, lonely temple. Not when he had so much to lose.

A voice echoed in his mind, over and over. His descent into nothingness was interrupted by the feeling of tears on his cheeks and your desperate attempts at wiping them away.

The thoughts wouldn't stop, but by looking at your face he could distract himself just for a little while.

"Please, Noah, what's gotten into you? Are you listening? I'm really worried, you weren't responding," your speech was a little too quick for him to understand, but he had no time to ask.

The boy grasped your palm tightly and looked right at you: "Let's see Yuria," he squeaked out a whisper from his dry throat, coughing afterwards.

"Alright. But I'm having you rest right away."

Hand in hand, you two followed your sister to Yuria's tent. Once you were in the proximity, you heard a hilariously loud 'ACHOO!' coming from inside, followed by a sniffle.

"Okay sis, lay it on me."

"We suspect it's just a cold, but she's been like this for a few days. Symptoms are as such-"

"You know, it might be just a cold. Have you tried any of my weaker warming potions?"

"Not yet," your sister approached you and spoke quietly. "Is Noah alright? He looks like he just came out of his casket."

She was right, more or less. After crying, his eyebags had darkened and he was a lot paler than when he entered your tent.

"Yes, he'll be fine, if you let me do my job."

"No need to get sassy on me, go take care of him already," she shooed you away.

It was too late to do so, since the boy had already gone inside Yuria's tent. He was staring blankly at her sleeping form, not a single sound he made. You almost didn't want to bother him, but he was standing way too close for comfort to Yuria's sleep snot bubble, so you had to drag him away.

"Were you worried about her? As you can see, she's fine. She needs some rest, but more importantly, YOU do. You look even worse than before."

Noah felt your hands on his shoulders; if it weren't for them, he believed he might've dropped to the ground. "...I'm a little tired."

"No wonder. Let's get you to my tent, it's getting late."

He was not as afraid, only anxious. Worried that it might all disappear, like it did before.

Even as he was tucked in by you and scolded by Clamor for leaving him alone, he couldn't shake it off. He didn't want to close his eyes; it was so easy to trick himself into thinking he was back there again if he did.

'Why do you look so grim? What's on your mind?' Clamor's had it with the teasing once he noticed he wasn't getting much of a response. His words were genuine, Noah knew.

"What if it'll happen again?"

'Ah, you mean the loop... There's a high chance it won't happen here, Elrianode is safe. It's beneficial to think of what ifs, yet in this case you are only hurting yourself.'

"Noah, please go to sleep. I'm here."

'What they said!!!'

You sat next to him, hugging your knees to your chest. You observed his exhausted expression intently, staring holes into him hoping he would magically lose consciousness. You knew of no intricate spells of the sort, neither could your potions imitate that effect. You were stumped.

You patted his hair and smiled sadly. His eyes suddenly found yours: "What if you forgot all about me? What then?"

Pondering, you answered with a question:

"What then? What would you like to know specifically? How I would react, how I would feel about you? It's difficult to think about, as there's so much I don't know. If I had met you in different circumstances, I'm sure it wouldn't have gone this path. But honestly, I think I'd fall in love with you again.

I'm just like that," you chuckled. He too smiled, mumbling that he was happy.

It took no genius to realize he fell asleep instantly.

#elsword #elsword imagines #elsword headcanons #elsword scenarios #elsword oneshots #elsword drabbles #noah ebalon #liberator noah #noah ebalon imagine #noah ebalon x reader

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can-i-just-say-this · 5 years ago

Text

I'm Coming Home to You

Harry Potter's 25 lives inspired by '25 Lives' by Tongari

Part 2

11. Yet, always, you forgive me.

There is blood in every inch Harry looks on Draco's clothes, and his heart breaks at his lover's weak smile.

"Harry, it's okay."

It's not. Harry is finally able to make Draco his in this lifetime after so many agonizing hundred years, and yet he can't save his partner. Even though he is the best investigator ever walks on this country. They were just in a childplay mission, and yet Harry miscalculated their numbers and moved too late to shield Draco that is not in his bulletproof uniform since he was spying for them.

"Please don't leave me. I'm not ready-"

Draco closes his eyes, and so Harry waits for this life to pass.

12. As if you understand what’s going on

For once, Harry is the one dying this time. He counts every second he can still hear from the clock, feeling every tears falling to his cheeks as Draco cries quietly. Draco is holding his hand, and it's the only warmth Harry can feel besides his rapidly freezing body. Harry searches for Draco's face, and his husband is smiling at him, nodding.

"Harry, it's okay."

Harry smiles back, finally it won't be painful whenever he remembers Draco saying those words.

"I'll see you soon."

And so Harry closes his eyes.

13. And you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,

The bookshelves rattle as Draco slams Harry's body, kissing every part of his face down to his shoulder like there's no tomorrow. Harry can only hold onto him, waiting for the inevitable. Just then, Draco sinks his fangs in Harry's neck and finally, finally drinks his intake of Harry's blood for the week. Harry shivers, never getting used to this.

"Stop, Malfoy, I'm not fainting in class again."

"Just skip it with me."

Malfoy stopped though, licking Harry's wound to heal it and stared at him with blood red eyes that rapidly turn into their normal grey colour. Harry also can't get used to that.

"Yeah, because I just love to give Snape another reason to drop me."

He glares, but soon Malfoy is kissing him again, and suddenly Harry is not sure he'll attend Chemistry today.

14. And the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

Hermione is screaming and tearing her bushy hair in their living room, Harry is not shocked.

"We were supposed to work on this project together, Harry, we are supposed to meet next week, in this freaking room at this second, and I just knew today that he's moving abroad, to Tokyo of all places! Can you believe this?"

Harry knows that Hermione can finish whatever project it is on her own, but he also knows to shut his mouth when necessary. So he decides to brighten his best friend's mood instead.

"And who is this asshole we need to track down to the Anime World?"

"It's Draco Malfoy and I swear to God I will find his new address and-"

Harry stops listening, his head suddenly has blooming headache and he wonders if it's the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

Later, after a long nap and waking up with tears streaming down his face, Harry plans a long life trip to Japan. Fifty years later, when Harry is visiting Hermione in her lovely cottage, the news inform him that a tsunami has hit the country he barely left few hours ago, and Harry's world is crashing down hearing the name Draco Malfoy for the second time in this life.

15. I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.

Draco is trembling, so Harry hugs him tighter, but it only makes Draco scream in agony, though no sound is coming out. Harry knows his time is limited, but he doesn't know what to say, now that fate decides it's fascinating to have him on the opposite side of the war from Draco. The hand holding the sword piercing through his body falls to his waist, and his lover is hugging back.

"I hate you. I really hate you. I hate you the most in this universe."

Harry tries to speak, but he's only coughing blood to Draco's back. He tries again.

"I love you. Please win. Please stay alive. Please-"

Harry closes his eyes.

16. But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways.

"You can't do this, Harry. Not again. Hermione, help me here."

Hermione only raises her eyebrow at her boyfriend, and he groaned again. They both know it's a lost cause and settle on watching Harry together. Harry doesn't even listen to his best mate complaining, his eyes fixed on the Marauder Maps in his lap. When Ron whispered 'Mischief managed' and he suddenly sees a blank parchment though, he shouts.

"Oi!"

"Oi to you too, Harry! You're obsessed! It's sixth year all over again! No, it's even worse! You have to stop, mate!"

Harry would, if only he knew how to.

17. Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder

Draco is leaning against him, hooking his arms. His eyes searching for cameras and he fakes a shy smile at him. There's no need to search, honestly, fans always capture The Drarry Moments like every bit of their interactions is a secret affair. Harry doesn't mind, though, as long as he has Draco close to him.

"I'm coming, I'm coming home to you, right now I'm home, oh I'm home, baby"

Harry sings his part, making sure to look at Draco with heart in his eyes, something he doesn't really need to fake. Draco smiles genuinely this time, and Harry's heart is screaming with their fans. Maybe deciding that the fans have enough Drarry pics in one concert, Draco moves away. Harry watches Draco wave to their adoring fans, making heart with his hands. Ah, Draco's part is coming next. Harry feigns surprise when Draco stares at him with love in his eyes.

"Today, tomorrow, I'm coming home to you, only you"

18. Is this the last time?

"Are you sure that's the right colour?"

"Are you questioning my potion skill, Potter?"

Harry shakes his head. Draco's forehead is covered with droplets of sweat now, and Harry doesn't think before he sweep them with his sleeve. Draco doesn't react, his eyes still staring at his potion as if daring it to misbehave. When five minutes pass and the potion turns blue, Draco is staring wide eyed at Harry.

"I did it. Potter, I did it! I'm getting the fucking degree!"

And Harry just looks at him, how Draco squeal and squeeze his fingers, how his own fingers shake a little when he write the right formula of his invented potion on the parchment. How he gathers various Potion books while tears are streaming down his face, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, and once again, Harry sees the boy and the man he has loved for more than a lifetime in new adoration.

"I love you", he wants to blurt out, but this Draco is not ready to hear that, so Harry whispers the words instead. He is quite afraid he won't be able to say those words ever again, but when Draco talks about his bright future as the youngest Potion Master that receives the Order of Merlin, Harry smiles to his friend.

19. Is that really you?

Harry is gripping his book like a lifeline, his heart drumming in his ribcage. The queue is too long, and Harry is afraid he's going to be late for his meeting. God knows what McGonagall is going to say, but he needs this. Harry turns his book around, the name 'Draconis' in bold green letters below the book's tittle, 'Coming Home'.

"Harry, she's going to fire you"

Hermione hisses, her own book swaying to his face. Harry knows this, too, and he feels like crying. Hermione misinterprets this and says softly.

"I'll ask him to sign your book, alright? Now go."

And Harry does. Draconis never comes to London after that, so Harry never get the chance to come to his book signing again. Not even once.

20. And what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

Harry already learned how to fake smiles long before Draco Malfoy announces his engagement in front of the press. He sits there as if his heart isn't breaking and speak his congratulations to the senior actor that is his one-sided love, and he can already imagine one of the article saying how Harry Potter, the rising star, plays a huge part in the developing love of his seniors in the filming site. Wonderful.

"I almost thought I didn't have the chance, but then there was Harry Potter, and he said he had been my fan since forever, and suddenly I had this huge courage and asked Pansy out the next hour. Really, thank you, Harry."

Perfect.

#draco malfoy x harry potter #drarry fic #draco malfoy #draco x harry #drarry #25 lives #reincarnation #past lives

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ladypyb · 5 years ago

Text

Snowballing Into The Heart

Rating: T (for a little bit of cursing)

Relationship/s: USUK, Brotherly AmeCan

Tags: hetaliaxmasevent, Cardverse, Meet-Cute (First Meetings), and a lot of snow XDD

Day 4 of HetaliaXmasEvent: Snowball fight | Skiing | Christmas without snow

|ao3|

(Ooohh man, it’s past midnight in my place. XDD I hope you enjoy it!!!)

In hindsight, Matthew shouldn't have gone to fetch a towel and leave him, the Prince of Spades, bored and alone near the Mages' Tower. He should have just called a servant.

Time passed onwards, as usual, its pace made Alfred wonder if they have the capability to change it. How curious it made him. And how desperate he was to hurry for the warmer days.

The prince liked winter. He didn't hate it. He didn't like like it, either. This was when the power of their kingdom had significant growth, after all. But Alfred didn't love the long cold nights in the season. He didn't outright adore the fact that he had to wear multiple, thick woolen jackets and heat-producing amulets that hinder his movement and stealth. Not to mention the tales about the cold season his mother told him in his childhood. Bad things happen to everyone in winter. Terribly bad things. Brrr!

He liked the powdery snow, though. Its color and often ethereal shine made the scenery look so pure. The dusting they made on the landscapes made him grin and jump into the freezing powder.

It itched him to jump in right now. Anything to go distract himself while Matthew began narrating to him the activities he had for the day. Often, he found his brother's tone monotonous when in duty. No, definitely not 'often' but 'always'. Yes, that's the right word.

"Remember not to touch anything, you might get a curse for even holding a pen that isn't yours. Don't stray away from the floating white lamps and proceed to the violets, the Head Mage told me the young fae tend to use play-magic there. Mother would kill both of us if you tried to pick a fight with one of the mages-"

Bla Bla Bla. The prince slumped against the cold brick of the wall, crossing his arms. What was the point of visiting the Magicians' Wing if they weren't even allowed to enter their laboratories? What was the goal of even doing biannual safety procedures with Alfred, the future King of Spades, if he wasn't the one doing the procedures?

In his head, his mother would definitely reply to him in her babytalk: "Aw, sugarplum, you are only needed to show your face and let the mages do the rest of the checking. It's theirs, after all. You wouldn't want to ruin their threshold and be painted as the villain, would you?"

... Yeah... Listening to Matthew's nagging would be better than their mother's overly-sweet babytalk. Both were sadistic in their own way but his brother's words were blunt, unlike the queen's underlying threats.

"-To stop... Are you listening to me, Al?"

He groaned in his head. "Yeah, I was." No, he definitely wasn't. "How about this tower?" Alfred gestured to the one behind him but kept his eyes on the soft, beckoning snow at their feet. Hmm... He looked up to his brother so quickly he felt his neck crack a bit. "Can we at least have permission to rest in somewhere warm rather than in their freezing gardens?" The garden wasn't biting in the least. He wore a heating amulet and multiple coats, Alfred was warm to the core and sweating inside his personal sauna.

Distract him, distract him, distract him. Alfred recited like a mantra in his head as he slowly crouched down to the soft ground, his eyes on his brother. As Matthew blinked at the tower's structure, the prince started to fist a ball of snow in his leather gloves.

Matthew studied the tower, contemplating. It was smaller than the other buildings on the property. The tower must be a storage room. The lights shining behind the elaborately framed windows stated otherwise, though.

"I don't know, Al. There might be someone important residing in the- Oomph!"

Something wooshed in the air! A cold and soft object hit the side of his jaw. Matthew paused and stared at the sitting and grinning person in front that was his brother. A snowball. Alfred hit him with a snowball. The prince guffawed heartily at his brother's expression of Thou-hast-betrayed-me-brother. Matthew's wide eyes turned into slits. This unbelievably childish tool-

Matthew bent low, scooped a handful of snow and-

"Hahahaha- Fwah!"

Bullseye into Alfred's mouth. Matthew smirked when the other began 'blech!'-ing and 'pswooh!'-ing out the melting snow out of his mouth. Heh, you aren't the only one who can throw snowballs, Alfred!

The blue-eyed prince stared at the violet-eyed ace with a sly look in his face. "You're on!"

Alfred scrambled onto the ground, embracing and creating a mound out of snow. He cupped a fistful and rotated it in his hands. He glanced back at his brother, crap, he's on his third ball! The prince started to quickly fist and cup the snow. The mound in front of him waned to his fear of losing.

No time! Alfred sprang to his feet and threw a snowball at his brother. On the face! Grunting, Matthew frowned and fired back at him. The prince dodged to the side as it almost hit his prized family jewels down below. Matthew cackled. Oh, man, this was war. A man doesn't aim for another guy's most sensitive area!

Then came the onslaught of the balls of snow. Missed and badly-aimed snowballs hit the walls, the hall near the entrance, and the plants carefully maintained in the garden. Bushes cracked and broke to the strength of their blows.

Passing servants and apprentices of mages paid them no mind as they passed by. It was no secret that both men in the royal family often behaved like children when they thought no one was looking. A few frowned at their display when they hit a third party, these occurrences were followed by a distracted 'Sorry!'.

Their roughhousing with the snow ended with a grand snowball from the prince to his brother on the stomach, sending poor Matthew falling on his back. Alfred fell to his knees, a goofy smile on his face in his triumph. He fell forward in exhaustion. Afterward, he moved to his side, panting.

Matthew managed to only hit him on his jaw and legs. Alfred hit him everywhere on his body with the help of his overzealous need to win every challenge and interest that crosses his path.

Matthew shuffled to stand, the other raised a brow at him, disbelieving. Alfred gave it all he had, ended up on the ground last and Matthew still stood up? What gives? He whined.

"Oh, don't be a baby. Stand up, you'll catch a cold." Matthew held his hand out to his brother which Alfred accepted. "Ugh," Matthew brushed off his clothes with his free hand, "I'm dripping. I'll never doubt these amulets, again."

Alfred flailed his arms like a dog, droplets flung everywhere. "Looks like it. Let's go ask for towels."

The older and logical of the two watched the other suspiciously. "No. You'll most likely slip away somewhere and get lost- "

"Impossible! I don't get lost."

"-Or cause some mischief on the way." Matthew crossed his arms, firm.

Alfred wiped his brow. "So are both just going to stand here? Baiting the cold and die of pneumonia?"

The ace pursed his lips. He clicked his tongue. "Fine," Alfred cheers at this, " But I'll fetch the towels. You," he gestured at Alfred, "Stay here."

The other pouted and kicked the accumulating snow below. Matthew enters into the open doors of the hallway. "Aww c'mon, Matt!"

"Don't. Go. Anywhere." The ace commanded as he eyed Alfred and continued down the hall.

Alfred clicked his tongue childishly. So what if he'd stray away from the directions sometimes, it wasn't like he'd easily die! The blessings from their clocks prevented that.

... He did oftentimes find himself suffering from a curse or two, managed to almost get assassinated, have been on the verge of death more than five times, and have been poisoned while eating street food. But Alfred survived!

He could almost hear Yao, the Jack, mumble beside his mother while tending his wounds or whatever harm he was inflicted, "With the amount of curiosity, and stubbornness you are born with, I could only pray to the Maker your rule would be as peaceful as it can be."

Alfred sighed, looking up he traced the flying bird overhead. The feathered animal circled the garden and perched atop a small roof of a window sill of the tower. He wished he was as free as the bird, free to go anywhere and able to do what he pleased.

He observed the little bird, bright orange stomach- A robin! How strange, robin birds weren't native to Spades, especially in one of Spades' northern areas. Alfred moved to spy under the windowsill, it was a few feet above his head but nothing could stop him.

When he craned his neck to observe the bird, he noticed a messy mop of golden hair near the windowpane. Someone was there- Oh Blessed Time!

Alfred ducked and made himself be one with the wall behind him. The windows opened with a clank! and the snow sprinkled on the prince's nose. His nostrils tickled. Ah- He wants to sneeze! Alfred pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

"-Damned pests. No wonder the potion did nothing! I should have known they'd place it in the wrong flask."

An accented voice of a man. It was so light and deep at the same time, it made Alfred wonder if the man swallowed a piccolo and a bass at the same time.

Light thumps and a resonating clink. "... What in the name of Time happened here?" The mystery man groaned. "Those freshmen! I can't believe- My roses!" The man stomped away from the window. The sound of heavy steps receded with a bang from a door.

The prince released a breath he was holding. That was so close. If the guy looked down, he'd see Alfred's nose and furred boots. He moved away from the wall. Finally able to ogle freely, he found two open flasks filled with mysterious liquids. One was changing colors rapidly while the other alternated between gold and silver.

The robin from before chirped and fluttered its wings. Oh no. Don't tell him the bird wants to- It glided down unto the windowsill with the two very open and unmistakably dangerous flasks.

"Oh, damn it!"

Alfred scrambled and raised his foot on the side of the brick wall. His gloved hands gripped the windowsill noisily, the robin squawked at him. The prince grunted as he set his elbows down near the flasks, he faced the bird's screeching. He shooed the orange robin with a dismissive hand.

It flapped its wings and nearly bit off his ears as it flew away from him and the flasks. He liked birds but he didn't like them mutated or dead.

Alfred banged his head and resisted to groan at the ridiculousness of his situation. His top half was rested atop a mage's windowsill in an effort to avoid an unwanted experiment. He didn't even know exactly why he ducked to be seen by one mage when didn't even bother to care for his image while playing in the snow with his brother.

He shifted an annoyed glance to the strange fluids. With their swirling and changing of colors, he thinks of them to be potions. They certainly resembled like potions. He sniffed at both of their opening; butter, lilies, and peach. Yep, definitely potions. There was no way liquids could change colors with just these ingredients.

"Hey! You there!" The same accented voice shouted below him. "What are you doing?"

There was disapproval in the voice. Alfred seemed reluctant to look at the man scolding him. He has had enough of it today! Alfred prevented a bird from destroying your potions. The prince turned his head to glare at the man, a scowl on his face.

Eh? His scorned expression dissipated into a daze.

Bright green eyes that were the shade of grass in summer framed by spun gold locks stood out from the man's white robe and soft snowy landscape. The guy had half of his face overrun with caterpillars- Wait, no. He just had large eyebrows. Surprisingly, it made the other look distinguished.

This guy must be the mage! The mage furrowed his brows and growled something Alfred couldn't hear. He raised his brow in confusion and held unto the sill with only an arm as the handsome man gestured his arm aimlessly... at Alfred?

What was he- Whack! Alfred's hold on the windowsill slipped.

"Aaaaaa- oof!" He crashed down on his back. Groaning, he placed his hand on his chest. Fragments of a snowball began melting to the power of the amulet under his coat. The dull pain that throbbed in his chest was nothing to the sharpness of blow to the side of his head. Did he hit his head when he fell...?

The mage's face swam into his blurry view. The expression of the mage full of concern was badly hidden through the annoyed curve of his lips. Alfred decided the guy was adorably handsome.

"... Are... kay... ?"

"Hn."

The green-eyed beauty touched his cheek. The prince moved into the chilled fingers. Aaah. He felt hot and cold at the same time.

"Hold... I... get... elp."

The angel's face blurred. Huh, did... Did Alfred lose his glasses when he fell?

He tried to focus on the other's fretting on him. Alfred's eyes closed, losing its strength to even move an eyelid. Darkness swallowed him and his consciousness.

Hm. It seems the Cupid from Hearts shot him in the chest with a snowball, instead of an arrow.

//end

#hetaliaxmasevent #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #my fanfic #slightly usuk #usuk #brotherly bonding through fighting AmeCan #snowballs #a little magic #cardverse #meet cute #first meeting #APH America #hws america #APH England #hws england #APH Canada #hws canada #snowball fights

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nekoabiwrites · 6 years ago

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Of Princes and Potions - Chapter 8

...I don’t know what to say before this chapter...

AU: Royal, Fantasy Pairing: Pining Logince Words: 2895 Warnings: Sympathetic yet still a lil shit Deceit. Anything else, please let me know.

Summary: Roman has a run in with his favourite wizard and his friend, but the two seem skittish and nervous around him. He wonders about this to several people and they all knowingly tell him cryptic things. Roman is determined to figure this all out.

“And thus, concludes this week’s session. I hope that you will find this informa- Where are you going?”

Roman visibly jumped as his tutor used an accusatory tone with him. He turned and grinned wide, acting as though he wasn’t trying to run out of the room they used for the tutoring sessions, “I thought you were finished, sir. I also have something planned that I need to be on time for, so if it is okay with you-”

“Sit down, Your Highness. The tailors will understand if you are a few minutes late. My classes do not end until I dismiss you. I tell you this every week.” The tutor sighed disapprovingly.

The prince knew better than to attempt to argue with the stern man. He trudged back to the seat he’d been slumped in and threw himself back down, his arms folded in defiance. He watched as the tutor raised an eyebrow at his actions but didn’t acknowledge them any further. Instead, the man went on a long spiel about the independent work he was assigning the prince to complete before their next session.

“Now…” The tutor paused, watching the eager prince sit up straight in his chair finally, “You are free to leave.” He had barely finished his sentence before Roman was out of the door. He sighed once more, the tiredness clear in the exhale.

Roman walked as fast as he could down the corridor, wanting nothing more than to be away from the awful, small, stuffy room they used for the tutoring session. He didn’t even know why it was necessary for him to still have these sessions. Sure, he was learning about the relations between his kingdom and others that neighboured nearby as well as several other important things he’d need once he took the throne from his father, but he still didn’t see why it was needed.

After turning a couple of corners, the prince slowed to a leisurely pace. His mind seemed to clear, and his mood immediately brighten. All he could think about was the upcoming ball, especially as there were only a few more weeks until representatives from all nearby kingdoms and all the noble children would gather in the castle ballroom to celebrate him. Every single detail needed to be absolutely perfect and Roman used any and all downtime he had to dream up the perfect party.

His thoughts were paused when he noticed two figures further down the corridor he’d now turned into. It was obvious from the first glance that it was the wizard and the knight captain, which was an odd combination in Roman’s mind, but he accepted it.

“Greetings, Sir Virgil and Sir Pendry!” Roman called from the end of the hallway.

Immediately, both of the other men seemed agitated. From the distance Roman was at, even he could see that they both tensed significantly, and their faces turned paler than he’d ever seen. The wizard turned sharply and practically sprinted up the corridor away from him, while Virgil stood his ground in the centre of the space, seemingly trying to act as a barricade in case the prince decided to chase after the retreating man.

Roman continued his pace, through he was extremely curious as to why his presence had caused such a reaction. Upon his approach to Virgil, he began to ask questions, “What was all of that for? Where did Sir Pendry run off to? Are you two hiding something from me?”

It was immediately clear that the knight captain was incredibly nervous to be near Roman at this moment. He laughed shakily and tried to seem calm, but failed miserably as his voice started to shake as well, “Why would we, need to hide anything from… from you, Your Highness?”

Roman cocked his hip and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in order to provide a non-verbal answer to the knight captain.

“W-well, anyway, Logan just… uh, I mean, Sir Logan needed to, um… do some… thing… really important.” Virgil was visibly sweating now. The prince watched one droplet slide from the knight captain’s forehead and down his cheek, which was swiftly wiped away with a sheepish laugh. Very suddenly, Virgil stood to his full height, “I just remembered, I had somewhere to be. Goodbye, Your Highness.” He turned sharply on his heel and walked briskly down the corridor, following the path the wizard had tore down only a minute or two prior.

“That was, by far, the oddest interaction I have ever had…” Roman muttered to himself as he watched the retreating back of the knight captain. It took the prince a moment to comprehend as much as he could about the situation he’d just been a part of. He was fixated on it as he continued his journey towards his own room.

His two personal tailors were already waiting for him once he arrived.

“I am incredibly sorry for the delay. I was kept longer than intended by my tutor.” Roman dramatically spoke as he entered through the large doors. The two inside were quick to reassure the prince that nothing was wrong, which had Roman smiling.

After ensuring the prince was comfortable and ready, one wheeled out a mannequin that was wearing an already completed outfit.

“Is it up to your standards, Your Highness?” asked one of the tailors with a bow.

Roman couldn’t respond with words for a moment. The piece was absolutely stunning. He’d given his request, as well as a few designs he’d quickly sketched to the tailors a few weeks ago and they had accommodated everything he wanted and did so much more. He approached it and gently ran his hand over one of the sleeves that were freely hanging.

“It is wonderful. You have truly created something from my wildest dreams.” Roman finally said, a genuine smile crossing his features as he turned to both of the tailors in turn to thank them.

If there was one thing Roman loved, it was getting a new outfit for a ball. They were always massive occasions and it was really the only place he could wear some of his more outrageous outfits. He was helped into the new outfit by the tailors and stood in front of the mirror, taking in every detail. How the pure white of the outfit contrasted against his tanned skin, how the detailed additions stood out as features against the garments as they were so bright and vibrant. He truly felt like a prince in the outfits he wore to the balls, and this was the best one yet.

The two tailors quickly busied themselves with pinning the extra fabric, so it sat perfectly on Roman’s body. They made conversation with the prince, getting him to elaborate on his plans for the ball and what he was going to do leading up to the event. Roman was more than happy to tell anyone who would listen about all the thoughts he had, so he began to ramble – which led to him going far off topic and just ranting about anything that came into his head.

At one point, he managed to get onto the topic of his sparring with Virgil and the rest of the knights, which then led him to talk about his relationship with the knight captain who managed to uphold such a scary reputation.

“I think he is far too harsh on everyone and really needs to improve his attitude sometimes. He barely even seems to respect me or my person, especially when he bests me in a duel. He is far too cocky for his own good. Though, I guess sometimes he can get rattled. I mean, when I ran into him on the way here, he was extremely nervous about something or other, which was odd. I’d never seen Sir Virgil so emotional.” Roman mused aloud, not really thinking about what he was saying, “Oh! Speaking of emotional, I also saw Sir Pendry talking with him just before and the man just ran away when I called out to him. Now, that was extremely off-putting. I thought I was really getting somewhere with him, especially after all of that effort I put into our conversations…”

There was a light snort of laughter from his side. Roman turned his head sharply to look at the tailor, who titled their head up to make eye contact with the prince, “I’m sure your effort has not gone to waste, Your Highness.”

“Yes, I am sure Sir Pendry only left in a hurry as he had something going on in that odd tower of his.” Said the other tailor from behind him.

“Exactly. Do not think you did anything wrong, Your Highness.”

“We can assure you that your relationship with Sir Pendry is far from damaged.”

Roman’s suspicions were aroused by their choice of words, “What are you implying? Are you both keeping secrets from me?” The only response was a small smile as the tailor who had been sharing his gaze turned back to their work.

The rest of the session passed in silence as Roman pondered what they had said with scrutiny. He did ask at regular intervals for more information, almost getting to the point of demanding they tell him what they knew or else they’d receive punishment. However, the tailors were finished before he got to that point. Both of them quickly removed the outfit from him and said their goodbyes, leaving the prince all alone in his room with his thoughts.

Roman, with nothing else to do with his time, resigned himself to attempting to get the independent work he’d been tasked with by his tutor earlier. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind was always pre-occupied with the strange behaviour of the wizard and the knight captain, as well as what the tailors had said to him that day. Even as he ate, his mind would not falter on the matter. This led the prince to walk out to the stables in the low evening light.

The best way for Roman to clear his head was to get out on Allegria. The feeling of being so free, able to fly wherever he wished in the sky was what he needed to throw away almost any thought that plagued him for too long. Roman assumed he would be unimpeded as he retrieved the pegasus, as this was not a time that Demitri tended to the horses at the stable. However, it seems the animal handler was mixing up his schedule as he was there when the prince entered the building.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Demitri said as he bowed low.

“Good evening.” Roman responded, his mind solely focused on retrieving Allegria and just getting out in the skies.

As he reached her stall, Roman was able to hear the other man walking around behind him. He opened the gate and led the proud animal out before finding her reigns.

“Isn’t it quite late to be going for a flight, Your Highness?” Demitri asked. His tone was cocky, confident and definitely held a hint that he knew exactly why the prince was going out on a late-evening flight.

Roman didn’t even respond as he fitted out Allegria, so she was ready to be ridden.

“It is obviously none of my business.” Demitri spoke up once more as Roman hoisted himself up upon the pegasus once they were outside, “But, I don’t think this flight will help you as much as you think…”

Roman snapped his head towards the animal tamer, who was now wearing a smug grin, “What do you mean? Tell me, immediately.”

Demitri shrugged noncommittally, “It’s obvious that something is bothering you, Your Highness. I am simply saying that your usual actions are unlikely to help you, is all…”

The prince narrowed his eyes, watching every movement of the other for anything that might give away anything else, “I simply know that Allegria needs her exercise and that is all.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I must just be seeing things.” The animal handler continued to speak, even as Roman coaxed his steed into turning away from the scarred man, “I am sure it has nothing to do with the nervous state that I saw Sir Logan in earlier today…”

Roman’s interest was immediately piqued. He tossed his leg over to the other side and slid off of the back of Allegria, who was already frustrated at having to wait so long to get going, but he ignored her frustrated sounds, “What?! What do you know?! Tell me!” Roman approached Demitri, getting as close to the man as he was comfortable in.

“I just saw him running through the corridors earlier, soon followed by Sir Virgil and then yourself. I simply put the pieces together, Your Highness.”

There was something this man wasn’t telling him, Roman was sure of it. The glint in his eyes was giving him away. The only thing Roman needed to figure out was how to get the secretive man to spill and tell him everything.

“I am not going to elaborate further, Your Highness.” Demitri said with a victorious smirk, “It would be mere speculation and that would not be helpful to you.”

Roman could only watch as the animal handler walked back into the stable, his mind still trying to think of anything he could do to get the information out of him. He eventually gave up and got back onto Allegria. Just as he was preparing to get her up in the sky, he heard something from behind him.

“You have nothing to worry about. Everything is going just as you want it.”

The prince had no chance to ask for clarification from Demitri as Allegria, tired of this useless back and forth, took off on her own accord, making her rider scramble for a proper hold on her. This did have her receiving a verbal scolding, but she barely seemed to care.

The pair soared through the skies for a while, enjoying the breeze and the freedom, and yet Roman was still lingering on everything. What Demitri had said, what the tailors had said, how the two men had reacted to his mere presence. Everything was adding up to have Roman believe that everyone was simply hiding something important from him. Though every time he attempted to think about what it could be, Roman’s mind swung back to think about how the wizard had reacted and how everyone alluded to their relationship being fine, that nothing was wrong. It puzzled the prince, but also had him just aching to know more.

So, when his eye caught the lit-up window in the highest tower, Roman couldn’t help himself. He headed straight for it, assuring his pegasus companion that they would not be hitting the wall this time.

Roman was immediately overcome with a strong feeling of need upon seeing the wizard hard at work in his tower. Once he was close enough to distinguish some of his features, Roman had Allegria slow even further, so they were approaching as such a speed that it allowed the prince time to truly appreciate the sight of magic user.

The man was utterly gorgeous, even if all Roman could see was the back of him. His cloak was once again resting on the mannequin behind his bookstand and the wizard had his sleeves rolled up – presumably - to get them out of the way. His hair was a mess in just the most attractive way, which had Roman’s thoughts drifting to something that was far from appropriate.

Soon enough, the prince was within range of the window. He had Allegria stay in place as best she could as he knocked on the window softly. Roman watched as the occupant of the room jumped harshly and turned in the blink of an eye to see what the noise was. When he locked eyes with Roman, Logan immediately turned a shade of red that rivalled the adornments that Roman wore daily and he rushed up the spiral staircase, tripping twice in his haste.

Now, the crown prince of the kingdom was far more confused. He’d expected the wizard to approach the window in order to open it, so he could snarkily tell the prince to leave. But instead, he’d fled once more. Roman was lost deep in thought as he took Allegria back to the stable, rid her of her flight equipment and left her in order to return to his room. He sat on his plush window-seat, looking out over the darkened kingdom after changing for bed. There was no way their ‘relationship’, as everyone else seemed to enjoy calling it, was alright, not after how the wizard continued to respond to him. Roman’s heart ached as a thought crossed his mind.

“He must hate me for something…” The prince muttered sadly to himself.

It was only a minute of self-pity he allowed himself before a flame of determination sparked in his eyes. Roman had a ball to prepare for, that was what his primary focus should be. And if he managed to impress the wizard at the same time, well… that was just a bonus, right? Roman slipped himself under the covers of his bed, a new-found passion making him excited for the upcoming weeks. He’d prove himself, no matter what.

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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jjkpls · 6 years ago

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The Scamps (m) (Harry Potter!AU #3)

> genre : smut, some sort of fluff i guess idk

> pairing : min yoongi x reader

> words : 3.3k

> warning : bad bad language, spanking, derogatory terms

> Min Yoongi (Slytherin, 6th yr) Children behave That's what they say when we're together And watch how you play They don't understand

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

"Could you tell me of what use chizpurfles can be ?"

"No." Silence overtakes the room. The majority of the class is not really surprised by the answer Yoongi gave, or even by the insolence his indifference transpires. But the new Professor of Potions, Professor Delaney-Podmore, has obviously not been briefed about Yoongi's character.

"You ca-can't?" Professor Delaney-Podmore blinks hard behind his thin glasses. There are droplets of sweat visibly slipping along the side of his forehead. Yoongi is not moved though.

"No."

"What a fucking idiot..." The Professor turns around so fast, you'd think he's standing on a spinning wheel. He stares gravely at you, eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets, break his lenses and roll on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Miss-"

"Cause you know?" Yoongi asks, attention driven now to you with an animation glinting in the gaze. Even his voice seems to finally come alive; you can hear the harshness and the coldness shading his tone.

"Well, I'm not the one who's been asked to answer, am I?" You singsong with a nasty side grin. Your head, chin stuck in your palm, tilts to the side, eyebrows raised high in mock wondering.

"Then why don't you just shut the hell up?" He is fired up now. You can tell by the little shrug his head does, ever so slightly, as he glares intensely at you. Everybody is watching the scene unfold with terrified excitement. They love to see those outbreaks you two have quite often since it's a great source of entertainment. That being said, they're never too comfortable as if scared that the tickling bombs you two are might, unexpectedly, burst in one of their faces.

"I'm sorry if I can't stand you making me waste my precious time by being a fucking moron."

"MISS!" Professor Delaney-Podmore finally explodes, all attention fixating on him. His face red and look haggard, the young man is visibly trembling. "This behaviour is unacceptable. I-I demand you to stop now or you'll have to leave my class." You don't really flinch under his gaze. He looks too unsure. If Yoongi can't get you to shudder, probably no one can. You know to be reasonable though. Especially since your goal has been accomplished -you've wakened up the old man. Therefore, you simply shrug and keep your mouth shut, your eyes following Yoongi's small form sauntering through the classroom, back to the seat behind yours.

"Shut the fuck up." Yoongi mumbles before you can even open your mouth, loud enough for you to hear but discreet enough so that the whole class and Delaney-Podmore don't divert their focus back on you two.

"Dickhead."

Taehyung, eyebrows frown, observes Yoongi smirking contently to himself. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something, to ask a question, to just express his confusion but the words just won't come out. He has a lot of questions. He is not the only one having noticed this bizarre animosity constantly animating your interactions. But he knows he'll probably won't get anything concrete from Yoongi so he just decides to give up -the nasty side glance the interested threw his way helping for the decision.

A loud smack, a body slumping on a messy humid bed, and a dark ominous chuckle. Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. There is only you, the ever unable-to-crack-a-smile-embittered bitch, to be laughing your head off when you're getting your ass spanked hard.

"You're not going to apologize?" His voice hardly raises at the end. He already knows the answer. And you already know that he knows so you just chuckle some more, shaking your panties-covered ass in front of his unwavering gaze. He grabs severely your hips to keep you still and without a warning, strike a couple of blows, first on the left cheek and once he finds the perfect red shade he likes, proceeds to move on and offer the same treatment to the other one. He doesn't slow down, doesn't soften down even when he can hear your whimpers getting higher and broken. He knows how far he can take you. "You really were a pain today."

"When am I not?" He hums knowingly. You are indeed a pain in the ass. That's actually the reason why he can deal with you since he's the same.

"Do you wanna cum?" You nod your head, mumbling an approval in the pillow. "Do bitches get to cum?" Yoongi asks, voice slow and pensive as if he's wondering out loud a serious existential question. You're quick to answer that yes, they do! but he is still languid, unhurried, as his hands pet your red cheeks. "I'm pretty sure they don't, ___."

"They do, Yoongi. Make me cum."

"Is that an order?" There is an unmissable edge to his voice. Do you want me to be meaner? he is asking. You don't really care though. You're not sure what your games during daylight are, but if anything they are probably foreplay. You hate teasing and you don't need him to take his time. You hate him taking his time especially when you've been ready for him for hours already.

"Yoongi, I'm bored. Make me cum, now."

And it's weird that you don't find it suspicious, but when Yoongi crawls behind you on the bed, mouth attaching greedily to your flesh, all you do is grin in the pillows, self complimenting yourself internally for what you think is a new win over him. You know what it means when he is hungrily licking and biting and scratching with his teeth, his large veiny hands meddling with everything his mouth can't take care of -your asscheeks, your thighs, your hips, your breast. There is one difference that should have, maybe, been a hint to you, the stinging of his ministration upon the already over abused skin of your ass. He's been meaner during the spanking, he'll be meaner with the rest. The thought may have occurred at some point, but the feeling of his hot breath hitting your now exposed centre empties your mind of any sort of preoccupation. It's just his expert mouth standing just a few centimetres away from the place you want him the most.

"Please." It's totally unexpected and so quiet, you hope he's missed it. But of course, he doesn't. As much of an old man Yoongi usually is, when he's with you, he's all alert.

"It's been so long, I forgot how much I love having you beg for me."

"Shut the fu-" You start, highly annoyed by the smugness dripping from his voice, not paying much attention to how you couldn't feel his breath hitting your skin when he was talking. There's a very short instant of heavy silence dominating the room, where you just stand there, on all four, exposed ass hanging high in the air awaiting; then the door to your room slams shut. That fucking asshole. Of course, he'd be that fucking mean.

There is an awkward silence hanging between the little circle of acquaintances. You don't seem too fazed. Nor does Yoongi. But Jimin and your best friend are looking between you two and themselves, eyes wide, and perspiration almost shining on their foreheads. They know this conversation can only go wrong. They've never -no one has ever- witnessed a normal, civil conversation take place between you two. It's always shouts, and insults, and ominous glares and even wand threatenings at times. But that's your usual, casual encounters.

Today is not a usual encounter. You walked in, with a weirdly jumpy step, sat right in front of Yoongi who was "hanging out" -meaning, he's just sat there next to his friends, not feigning listening or taking part in any way in the conversation happening- with the two other Slytherins, and proceeded to announce that you've found a date for the party that Hogwarts will be hosting in a week, even though nobody asked. Jimin is sure that Yoongi will be the first to point this detail out but strangely enough, he remains quiet. Gaze hardly focused on you.

"That's great, ___! Who is it? Do we know him?" Your best friend asks.

"He's the Seeker of Ravenclaw's team."

"Ravenclaw?"

"He's very tall and muscular. Very hot." Yoongi can feel his blood boil. It's not so much what you're saying. You're choosing your words thoughtfully. Yoongi is a tiny little thing compared to most guys, he knows that. And quite frankly he doesn't give a single fuck since, as testifies your always sneaking in his pants, it doesn't injure his sex-appeal in any way. He feels anger because that's the natural reaction he has to you, in every daily circumstance, and because he knows you're trying to annoy him. You're always trying to mess with him. "Are you going, Min Yoongi?"

"You know I'm not."

"Are you sad because no one wants to go with you? I'm sorry Min Yoongi, maybe try being a little less of a dickhead."

"And I'll try wearing my uniform skirt like a crop top too, as sluts do. That surely will get me a date, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know what sluts do, Min Yoongi."

At each pronunciation of his full name, said with this insufferable patronizing tone, it becomes harder for him to refrain himself from grabbing you by the hair, uncover your ass and spank you right here, in the middle of the common room; he'd do it until you've cried so much your whole shirt would be soaked in tears.

For now, the common room is filled with an uncomfortable atmosphere. Yoongi, not that he cares, has noticed a few younger kids leaving abruptly when you two started talking. The ones that decided to stay, have retreated in the corner and as if in fear to interrupt, started to whisper their conversations.

"Anyways" There is an awkward cough before your best friend starts again, obviously attempting to divert the conversation and diffuse the tension. "Jiminie, you're bringing your girlfriend?"

"Yes. It'd be our first ball together, I'm really excited!" He is all smiles and starry eyes, nodding his head with enthusiasm. He's so grateful both for the question itself, and for the brave attempt she is making.

"Oh yeah, the squib!" Jimin's jaw goes slack as Yoongi stares straight at you; waiting for what you're going to say with obvious interest. He wouldn't admit it but it would tickle him unpleasantly if you were to start insulting one of his very only friends. From the bright, carnivorous-like smirk adorning your red lips, he can tell you know. "Hasn't she been kicked out yet? Or at least, hasn't she quit? I mean if I were her, I would have quit fucking ages ago. She's embarrassing herself in every fucking class."

"Why are you pretending not to know, you're sharing half of your classes with her."

"Am I talking to you Min Yoongi?" You give him the darkest look. He isn't moved, simply stares back at you awaiting. "Now that I think about it, you're luckier than this guy, Jimin. Even if she's a squib, at least you have someone."

"You think you do?" He is quick to answer, nonchalance becoming harder to keep up now. You can see the corner of his lip twitch slightly.

"I do, old man. I've just told you about it."

"Well, now that's just sad if you think he's in for anything else than your ass."

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind having my pussy too."

"___!!" Your best friend yells, getting up from her chair, ready to grab your arm to drag you out. You'd think she'd be used to your antics by now but the poor girl is so red in the face. You don't let her move you though, the bickering is not over. After being such a dick last time, you just want to piss him off for real. It's pretty nice having little to no sense of shame or embarrassment when dealing with this guy.

"You're so gross." Yoongi mumbles, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

"And so are you. You're just bitter because I'm still hot enough to get laid but you're not."

"I'm bitter? Over what? Not being a whore?" He sniggers. "I'm perfectly fine knowing my dick won't fall off at some point from overexposing it to all the trash your cunt plays with."

"Dicks and vaginas don't just fall off, moron. But how would you know?" You're back with the patronizing, oh-silly-little-thing-let-me-teach-you-life type of voice and you can see, visibly, the annoyance reaching its peak on Yoongi's neck vein.

Only the arrival of an impatient prefect can finally bring a semblance of peace in the room. He tells you guys that you're being a nuisance to everybody in the common room and that you need to either shut the hell up or just leave if you want to keep arguing. There's a tense silence hanging after his impromptu intervention. Everyone is wondering if the two tickling bombs will burst now at this brave but innocent prefect face. Yoongi is the one making the decision for the both of you. After a while of pondering the question over in his mind, menacing eyes staring right back at yours, he decides to leave the chair and slowly, saunters to his dorm room.

"You don't deserve kisses, ___." He whispers, turning his head away for your eager mouth to meet his cheek. You smirk, tend your neck to try again to catch his red lips between yours but his arms push himself further away, making himself completely unattainable. His hips have slowed down too. He's looking down at you but his eyes don't meet yours. You frown, deeply annoyed.

"You're too touchy."

"Am I?" Yoongi asks simply. His tone sounds calm and collected. Too calm for it not to be frightening. He actually sounds ominous as hell. He slows down to a complete halt and drags himself out of your warmth, ignoring your protests. "Ride me." Eager to keep going, ignoring his bad mood, you jump on your new-found seat. "Don't touch yourself." He summons, and when he sees your burning hands tucked knowingly against his stomach, he lazily slips his hands behind his head, closes his eyes, breathing out a long pleased sigh when you start riding him.

He looks quite handsome like that. Traits all relaxed, pearl white skin shimmering slightly under the sunset light coming from the wide-open window, gold-reflecting eyelashes resting softly on his face. You want to kiss his mouth again but know better than try. So instead, to submerge more in the uncommon peacefulness hanging between you, you decide to ride him in the most languid fashion. Taking your time to slide up and down his length, deeply, to build it up for the grand final when you'll do it the way you two love to cum to.

The thing is, Yoongi, as too often, has a hidden agenda. Not long after you've started, you see the line of his eyebrows dip down slightly in the middle, and then a low groan erupts from the very back of his throat as you feel his cock twitch in you.

"No- you- did you really-?" He opens his eyelids on brown irises shining with mischief. Of course he did, Yoongi's assholeness is a never-ending pit filled to the brim with fucking annoying tricks all able to piss you off more than the last one. Yoongi is the only dude you've known that wouldn't mind looking like a premature ejaculator just to irk you.

"'Hope you have a good time at the ball." He has the audacity to add, whilst he not so gently makes you roll off of his body and into the mattress. You could say something, ask for him to stay or just insult him but it would feed his evil contentment and you just resolve on swallowing down the anger.

"I mean it's complicated."

"What is?" Taehyung sighs deeply, bending over the small stone wall, arms dangling in the air like two flabby defeated creatures. Yoongi simply watches him. It's quite unusual to find him in this mood. All defeatist and low-energized.

"It's Jimin. And she's really in love with him. I wouldn't mind if it were anyone else but Jimin is kind of..." Yoongi doesn't say anything. He stares blankly at his friend, which quite frankly is way more dedication than he is used to receiving from him. Therefore, he elaborates. "Isn't he the perfect guy?"

"Hm." Yoongi nods evasively. Yes indeed, Jimin is quite good in his own kind. But he doesn't feel like not being him means they're doomed.

Taehyung, tired of the lack of active responses, straightens up and glares, a new sort of energy found."I don't even know why I'm talking with you, what do you know?"

"You came to me." Yoongi groans, jaws tight and fists twitching from his effort put in not being rude to his friend. They say he's an asshole but they don't realize how hard it is on him dealing with all those problematic cases.

They really don't see it, Yoongi is assured, when Taehyung keeps talking, completely ignoring him, it seems. "Seriously. Maybe I should help you more than you should help me."

"I don't need any help in that department."

"You flirt like an elementary school kid, Yoongi." He says, eyes rolling all the way up and down, with a little shake of his head.

"What?"

"You know, like those kids that spit on and pull at their crushes' hair to seduce them." Yoongi frowns. It's the first time he hears this shit still Taehyung says it like it's an actual fact admitted by all. He knows people don't really get his friendship with you. He thought they believed you two to be at most enemies, and that you just love bickering with each other for entertainment purposes. He didn't know they thought he was attempting to flirt with you. He is not attempting anything. You're the one begging for him to turn your ass bloody red. He doesn't even have to ask!

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm." Taehyung smiles knowingly. He meets his friend's eyes, the ones totally unresponsive to the amusement shining in his. But suddenly, his smile drops when he catches sight of the said witch walking right in their direction, with a suspicious hop in her steps. "Oh shit. I'll see you later."

For a split second, Yoongi considers saying something in your defence. Something about how he is being ridiculous, you're not a fucking troll. But then you're here, you call him a dickhead as you always do and since no one is around anymore, you don't waste a second grabbing his hand between your claws to start dragging him somewhere more private. Yeah, maybe he won't ever say anything in your defence.

Your gaze follows his silhouette as he moves about the room, swiftly tidying up. With the wand he just used to clean up the mess he's made on your thighs, he elevates the dress you wore at the ball, discarding of it in the corner. You smile tiredly, a hand reaching out to touch the burning skin of your neck and bosom. He's been so thoroughly covering up the few hickeys your date had made before him, it makes you giddy inside even if you won't admit it. There's a loud commotion coming from the common room. People are still celebrating, wanting to make the most of tonight, since most will be leaving tomorrow for the winter break.

"Do you mind if I stay for the night?" Yoongi sighs deeply, letting himself fall beside you on the bed. He closes his eyes, toss under the covers for a bit before curling up on himself, ready to sleep. Still awaiting, you kick him in the shin.

"You know you don't have to ask.” You grin. You do know. The kids outside the room are still screaming and laughing hysterically. Yoongi besides you grunts. You consider going out to threaten them to shut the hell up but Yoongi's bed feels so warm and he feels so nice next to you, you decide to just ignore them, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts scenario #yoongi scenario #yoongi drabble #bts drabble #my writing #thanks for reading

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loustellaperry · 6 years ago

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Draco finds a three-headed dog

I scribbled up a Harry Potter edition MASH game, and used my answers as the prompt for this post. My answers were Draco, Mansion, Fluffy, and shop owner. This is what my imagination did with this information...

It was a particularly dark day, but that was to be expected when it’s the middle of April in England. I couldn’t help but race the raindrops on the window, as they fell. My back had gone numb, as I’d been sitting in the same spot, by the same window, since I got home at noon.

…

I had woke up straight from a PTSD nightmare, of a scene I was involved in when I was around fourteen. It was the day, my mom slapped me in the face, right before I got on the train for school. In which case, I wouldn’t see her again until Christmas.

I sat up straight out of bed, with the same nerves I had the second her hand hit my cheek. Shaking fingers, a racing heart, and sweat droplets lining my forehead, I pulled myself from my not-so-dreamy state. The rain hadn’t begun yet, but the sky already seemed rather dreary.

The clock read 9:13 am, and as usual I headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I became a coffee drinker at the mere age of 16. It was my go-to, to keep me going through the toughest part of my life. I carried it with me to adulthood.

Four of my five fingers took turns tapping my finger prints against the table top. In order, from my pinky to my index finger, while my thumb sat there stabilizing them. I sipped my coffee through dry lips. My face still felt swollen, as though I hadn’t seen sleep for four months. I mean, this wasn’t entirely wrong. I lifted my eyes from my coffee mug to the phone, in the hallway. I have never heard it ring… ever. I can’t believe I’ve been living here for four months, and no one’s called me. Not even Crabbe or Goyle. To be fair, I haven’t really reached out to any one since moving in.

I inherited one of the Malfoy manors when my uncle passed, in December. It’s still filled with all his things. He lived alone, and sold bewitched muggle artefacts straight out of the foyer, much like the rest of my family. I’ve distanced myself from most of them, in honor of my mental state. After the battle of Hogwarts, I went straight to therapy and have been there ever since.

It took me three years to realize my situation wasn’t the greatest. I guess I was brought up to believe if you could pay your bills, and have extra left over, then you needn’t complain. I was never taught to take care of my mind. After about a year and a half passed, my relationship with EVERYONE slowly but surely deteriorated. I’ve only talked lightly to my parents, as I transitioned from their roof to this one.

A lot’s happened inside my brain since then. I’ve began using poetry and famous literature to subside the pain. This was my Slytherin shining through. My uncle had quite the collection going, in his book room. It reminded me of a smaller version of the Hogwarts library. Loads of history on famous wizards, spells, potions, poetry, and even muggle fiction. I’ve also took over his garden. He had quite the abundance of herbs, as well. I’m thinking about buying a place in Diagon Alley, and selling them. You see, cutting ties with my family the way that I’ve been, is sure to decrease my income. And I’m just slightly over sneaking around, and selling illegal objects from my home. There’s a peacefulness that comes with the idea that you have nothing to hide.

…

I took a cabbie to London, to meet my therapist at 10:30. Recently, I’ve been overly disconnected. I find myself lost in a daze, replaying events from my childhood. She said it’s normal for complex cases of PTSD. Talking about it helps, or at least it’s supposed to. My therapist has this way of swimming straight to the darkest depths of my brain, and showing me memories I buried there, LONG ago. Although, each weekly session knocks me down for the remainder of the six days left in the week, I do feel my head becoming easier to carry.

I guess I just miss my friends, and kind of my parents. I’m supposed to forgive them for their ways even though, they never apologized. I just feel shameful, because I, too, feel like I have things to apologize for. I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s also hard, when I feel like they are still living in their old ways, and just because I’ve found a path out of illegal activity, doesn’t mean they want to.

They also kind of make me feel dumb for living the way that I am. My dad even said I’ve brought shame to the family name, as they’ve given me everything, and the way that I repay them is “seeking help, like some sort of peasant”. If asking for help, makes me a peasant than so be it. I couldn’t open my mouth before, without exploding on someone, about something that was never ignited. Although, I lead a quieter life now, my chest doesn’t hurt as much.

…

Therapy sped by, and was mostly silent on my part, as I said earlier, I’m pretty disconnected right now. Not much to say, when my mind isn’t all there to begin with.

As I opened the heavy door, I was greeted by immediate brightness and thick rain. If the breeze hadn’t been so pleasantly cool, I would have pretended I was dying. I find myself thinking about death a lot. But it’s apparently “normal”, when you’ve encountered the things that I have. According to the plan my therapist has made, those dark thoughts will decrease as I talk through them. It just feels like to me, that they’ve increased… a lot.

I opened my dark green umbrella, and ventured down the sidewalk. Old thoughts from school flooded my brain. Almost all of my peers were already married and having children. Here I am almost 21, and just living off the same wealth, I’ve had since I was young. I’m constantly reminded by my therapist that I’m still pretty young, and have lots of love to give. But honestly, FUCK LOVE…

and then I caught a glimpse of him. It was a fat, grey dog, with three heads. As soon as my eyes landed on it, it had taken a sharp turn down an alley. I followed closely behind, almost catching up to it, but then it hopped through the brick wall. I ran over to the area, that it disappeared in. I drew my wand and tapped on the bricks. Nothing. I crouched down and examined my surroundings. I didn’t know there was a wizard portal here. Then I noticed the transparent air shaking, as though there was something under it. It can’t be…

I lowered myself to it’s level, and reached into the air, hoping to pull off whatever invisibility device this pup was using. To my expectations and slight surprise, I could feel the creature underneath my hand, it was just… invisible. A few seconds later, it’s transparency faded and against the wall, was a shaking very small but plump three headed dog. The school’s old gamekeeper owned one. Her name was Fluffy and she guarded some of Hogwarts most valuable secrets. Only, that one was the size of a small building. This one was the size of a baby bear.

“Are you alright?” I made my voice small enough to fit the tiny creature.. All three of it’s heads, flinched as if I was going to hit it… them. “I’m not going to hurt you”, I meant, I’ve not been around a dog since at least five years ago, but I definitely won’t kick you.

All six eyes lifted to meet my gaze, with a glossiness of tears. All ears were held down, and it’s entire coat was trembling before me. This was probably the cutest and purest thing I’ve seen all year. I reached out and let it sniff me, and softly touched the middle head. It seemed to not mind.

“Now, do you have a home? This is a strange place for a creature like you to be wondering around”

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” A man peered around the edge of a building. “Oh, yeah… I just found…” and when I looked down, the dog had went invisible again, also it had three heads. “I mean, I had dropped something. But I found it, thank you”.

The man shook his head slightly, tilted his hat, and kept walking. Filthy muggles, treating me like I’m crazy!- I mean, he was just an interested man, not filthy, he never said I was crazy… his facial expression did… I don’t know, it just seems like muggles are extremely nosey and annoying. I mean, I’ve met pure blood wizards that were the same. I just hate people, to be fair.

Glancing down, the dog was now in full sight and wagging it’s tail. “How about you come home with me?”

As I picked up the creature, I realized how heavy it actually was, and how hard it was going to be to get into the cab without looking suspicious. “The only thing, I need you to do is stay invisible”.

…

It snores. Also, it’s a boy. I named him Snake, because why would you not name an animal after a different animal? Snake fell asleep shortly after we got home, and I’ve kind of just been sitting by this window, ever since. We’re probably ordering out for dinner.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and using a MASH game as a prompt. Also, I’ve always wanted to write harry potter fan fiction.

Message me, and lemme know what you think of this version of Draco..

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yukiwrites · 7 years ago

Text

The Most Illustrious Visit

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu! Thanks for your patience as well ^v^;)

Summary: Cressida’s pregnancy is the best excuse for Owain’s future past friends to pay him a visit or two. Or maybe three. They need to make sure Cressida is well-attended, after all!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Cressida's pregnancy, among other things, served to remind her how cherished her husband Owain was by his friends. Of course, Owain was the kind of person who would be loved regardless of situation he were in (back in Nohr, despite his outward weirdness, he was always surrounded by someone with a bright smile), but being able to witness how much his future past companions cared about him made Cressida's heart settle in comfortably with the passing of months.

They showed their appreciation with letters, presents and visits, always conveying their heartfelt feelings towards their friend and his growing family: Some were still amazed at how they all actually managed to have a peaceful future for themselves after a life of fighting, while others enjoyed every single moment and looked forward to meeting the mini-Owain that was on the way.

The word of Cressida's pregnancy spread around like wildfire, and both she, Owain and Frederick knew that it was Lissa's doing -- the princess was never a good secret keeper, after all. Soon even the future past children who lived away from Ylisse had heard the news.

The first ones to visit were, of course, his cousins Morgan and Lucina, as well as the most frequent.

"I came to play again!" Morgan would announce as he saw himself in, comfortable enough to barely knock before entering. "I brought a charm for the baby!"

"Morgan, please; it doesn't matter if he's family or no, we need to actually wait any of them to welcome us instead of barging in-" Lucina reprimanded, pulling her little brother's ear.

"Owowow, Sis! But it's Owain's house! Fellow Justice Cabal member and- owowow!"

"Who has a wife and a soon-to-be-born child, Morgan. Wait for when one of them opens the door, all right?" The princess twisted her lips, lifting her chin.

"Please, Lady Lucina, it's alright." Cressida welcomed them after washing her hands from tending to the back garden. "You two are Owain's family, after all. You'll always be welcome."

"See? See?!" Morgan beamed, disentangling himself from his sister's grip. Lucina once again grabbed him by the ear, though.

"Please don't indulge this behavior, Lady Cressida, or else he will not learn..."

"Siiiisss..." Morgan pouted, leaning his head on Lucina's shoulder. The princess cleared her throat, always unable to say no to his puppy eyes.

"D-don't look at me like that, Morgan. No is no."

The young prince only blinked adorably, making Lucina avert her eyes as her conviction wavered.

Cressida chuckled at the exchange, always amazed at how well the two of them got along as siblings and as cousins to Owain. Despite all those years they spent away from each other, their bonds never wavered, as though something as fickle as time couldn't even scratch the depth of the ties that bound all of them.

"You said you brought a 'charm', but that's quite a bag you're holding there, Sir Morgan." Cressida said, putting the table for the tea. She had witnessed that same exchange happen at least every other day, so she quickly got used to it.

"Oh, allow me to help." Lucina let go of Morgan's ear and stepped inside to fetch the plates and cutlery. They had arrived a little bit before lunch time, and they knew Owain would eat at home instead of the barracks.

Morgan looked at the bag he carried and shrugged. "Well, uncle Frederick asked us to bring another thing he sewed -- you won't believe how intricate the design is! I bet he could make a name for himself in the sewing world if he weren't a knight."

Cressida froze on her step, an eyebrow twitching in response.

After the initial shock of surprise and happiness from finding out that he would be a grandpa, Frederick showed up at their doorstep at dawn the next day with a hand-knitted winter set for a newborn baby. It had little gloves and socks and everything; it was the picture of adorableness.

It actually made the bow knight tear up a bit, feeling that her pregnancy was something real and that she was going to meet her and Owain's child in the near future.

Once again she felt like that the next morning as Frederick brought yet another set in different colors, the little baby’s cap graved with the words 'the best grandchild in the world'. She would stare at it and laugh for the weeks to come, but it kept happening.

Every single day since Cressida announced that she was pregnant did Sir Frederick give them something he sewed himself. "He's gonna put the local seamstress out of business," she joked one time, two months after his first present. "... How much yarn is he gonna use? I'm sure he bought everything in Ylisse by now," she sighed deeply after the fourth month, wondering where she's gonna keep so many presents.

Frederick wasn't dumb -- he knew that the clothes of a child, of a baby, no less, wouldn't have a great lifespan. Children grew up quickly, after all. After the first dozens of sets for newborns, Frederick began knitting clothes of varying sizes, so Owain's child would never want for clothes as they grew up.

Cressida felt a droplet of cold sweat itching down her temple, Morgan's words echoing through her mind.

"Lady Cressida?" Lucina tilted her head to the side, taking the plates the bow knight carried. "Are you feeling well? You look pale!"

"Oh wow, it's true!" Morgan put the bag over the couch and trotted to his cousin-in-law, taking her by the hand. "C'mon, let's sit here for a bit, you much be so tired!"

The prince guided her to the very same couch the bag was at, making Cressida's eyes spin. It was as though a swirling energy was emanating from the bag, almost bringing her physical pain.

Frederick didn't simply give them one piece of clothing every day, but a SET of clothing every single morning. Sweaters, socks, belly-warmers, gloves, bonnets, pants... take your pick.

Owain and Cressida's house was a simple one; they didn't have many rooms nor did they have space at the back garden to build an extension, and Frederick's growing pile of presents was already starting to take room they didn't have.

It didn't fit in the baby's closet anymore. Nor did it in their closet. There were baby clothes even inside Owain's herb cabinet! He needed to juggle between his potion-making tools, herbs and a little baby sock that randomly found its way in there.

They sometimes found little wool shorts and tiny gloves at the weirdest places. "I found this little belly warmer under the sink... and this single sock outside at the garden. How did they end up there?" She asked Owain one day, to which he replied that they must've been cursed by the Wool Spirit.

His Father had looked in god's eyes and decided to ignore the plea of thousands of seamstresses who were most likely out of a job by now. Nothing Lissa, Owain or even Chrom said could stop him at this point, and by now Cressida was resigned in accepting everything.

Gulping, the bow knight looked at the bag, its dark energy making her stomach turn. That single thought made her shoulder sag, however. Look at me, she thought, I'm even seeing 'dark energy' in a harmless bag. Maybe Owain's finally rubbing off on me.

"Behold, for this Owain Dark has arrived!" As if on a cue, Owain yelled from outside, skipping through the front stepping stones towards the open front door. "Oh? What manner of evil doers dare to step inside my shrine of redempti- GASP!!" He threw his hands in the air in an extravagant gesture as Morgan dramatically took one hand to his face. "We meet yet again, my mortal allyversary!"

"This time, I shan't lose!" Morgan pointed. "Once our eyes meet, it's time for battle!"

"Stop making a ruckus in other people's house." Lucina bonked her brother on the head, once again pulling him by the ear. "I'm delighted to see that you are well, cousin."

"Our epic battle, interrupted by she who bears the Light Brand!" Owain got on his knees. "Whenever shall we have our bloodthirsty showdown, O fellow Fallen One?"

Morgan massaged his head with both hands, but still managed to laugh. "The conclusion to our thrilling saga... will need to wait for... another day." He paused dramatically, looking at the horizon through the small window, the draft that followed only enough to lift a few strands of hair.

"Oh, look, Owain, Sir Frederick brought another sweater." Cressida's voice filled the theatrical silence as she took the small garment, sized for a child of age 10, out of the bag. "Delightful."

That brought actual shivers down Owain's spine. "H-haha... Father is at it again, I see."

"He never misses a day." Cressida's voice didn't have any strength in it. "It's been five months." She sighed, then shook her head as she put the sweater back inside the bag. "What was that charm you said you brought, Sir Morgan?"

"Hm? Oh yeah! It's actually here with me, haha!" He ran his hands through his pockets, finding a little round bell on a string. "Mother said that this is really good to catch the baby's attention when they're overwhelmed with all the new things around them!"

"Oh, I... actually remember that." Lucina mused as she gazed softly at the bell, her hand still on her brother's ear.

"Eh? Really? She used it on you, Sis?" Morgan gasped, handing the bell to Cressida. Lucina snorted.

"Of course not, silly. She used it on YOU. Sometimes I would catch her jiggling a bell akin to this one over your crib when I was young. Sometimes I thought that she thought you were a cat..."

"Hah, I'm sure I'll need this, then." Cressida took the little bell to her chest, smiling softly despite feeling the dark energy coming from the sweater right beside her. "If she's anything like her father, I know I'll need to distract her with something."

"She?" Lucina and Morgan tilted their heads to the side. "Did you ask someone to see the baby's gender?"

"Oh, excuse me." Cressida covered her mouth, embarrassed. "I just... feel like it's gonna be a girl. Don't mind me, now."

Used to how his wife referred to their child as 'she', Owain helped her up. "If Mighty Cressida, she who bears the chosen one, savior of this land, says our Messiah will be a girl, who are we to argue? We can only bask in her knowledge!"

"That's true." Lucina bobbed her head in agreement, followed by Morgan.

Embarrassed by how well they took that, Cressida snorted. What a close family she ended up being part of!

The visits weren't limited to Owain's own blood relatives, either. The companions with whom he shared the adventures in Nohr and Valla would also drop by time and again.

One day, Inigo and Severa met on their way to visit, their spouses in tow.

"Ho? Finally being honest with your feelings, Severa? Owain IS our oldest friend, after all-" Inigo poked at the front door, a wide smirk on his lips.

"Humph." The mercenary turned her head to the side so fast her pigtails slapped Inigo on the face. "I came here because I'm worried about Cressida, is all. I know what she's going through, after all." She glanced at her husband, who carried their little baby, Caeldori, strapped on his back.

Subaki laughed after being shown in. "She was worried sick back at home. Saying that she'll need to teach Owain how to hold a baby because she worried he would drop his and such."

"H-hey- Subaki!" Severa hissed, stomping on her husband's foot, her face bright red.

Already expecting that, Subaki swiftly took his foot out of the way, making Severa stomp on the floor instead.

"Huh? What's so bad about being worried for your friend? Weird." Hana blurted out, quickly turning to Cressida. "Hah, I win! My belly's bigger than yours." She stuck out her seven months stomach, a proud smile by her lips.

"This is not a competition, love..." Inigo coughed, guiding her to the couch.

"What? Anything can be a competition if you put your heart to it!"

"Well, I can't argue with that." Severa nodded, still trying hard to step on Subaki's foot.

Snorting, Cressida started putting the table for the visitors.

"Hey, c'mon, we don't need these pleasantries." Finally managing to dig her foot on her husband's, Severa quickly ran to Cressida, taking the plates away from her. "You must be so tired every day, having to deal with Owain and stuff."

"Yeah, she tends to the garden while I'm not home- hey!" Owain took his wife by the hand to guide her to the couch, taking a while to understand Severa's poke at him.

Smirking, Severa knew her way around the house due to her frequent visits, and quickly put water to boil so as to serve tea. "What? It's the truth."

Before Owain could open his mouth to retort, a loud voice coming from outside cut him off.

"Cynthia, presenting herself!"

"Uwooooh! A fellow Justice Cabal member!!" Owain jumped out of his seat, running to the door. "T'was Fate that brought you here, Legendary Pegasus Knight, Cynthia!"

"Weh? It was actually my pegasus, but okay- Where can I put her? I don't wanna ruin your garden..."

"Oh, you can circle around the gate and tie her on that tree over there, see? Wait, that's not it! Cynthia! Long time no see!" He opened his arms.

"Just a second!" She ran to tie her pegasus on the aforementioned tree and quickly came back to double high-five her childhood friend. "Surprise! I came crashing down from the very heavens to bless your heroic child! Where's the bride?!"

Wondering what the ruckus was outside, Cressida stuck her head out of the window that was right behind the couch. "Oh? Is that the famous Cynthia the Hero?"

Immediately did the pegasus knight's eyes sparkle. "Is she the one? She has good taste!" She quickly ran inside, her pigtails bouncing on either side of her head. "Nice to meet you, I'm the Heroic Hero, Cynthia! At your service!" She bowed. "I actually met Owain once or twice back at the castle, but I never managed to take a day off to see you! Sorry it took me so long to!"

"Ugh," Severa rolled her eyes. "I won't need to add a cup for her, right? We already have one kid here and mine's a WELL-BEHAVED one."

"Oh? So you allow snakes in your house now, Owain? I'm very experienced in hunting them, you know?" Cynthia narrowed her eyes to Severa, never letting go of Cressida's hands.

"Hah, snake? Look who's talking! You're still wearing pigtails at your age!"

"You're older than me and your pigtails are LONGER!"

"Mine are fashionable, unlike anything you've ever heard before, I'm sure."

"Hey, are they always like this?" Hana elbowed her husband, amused at the bickering. Cressida wondered the same thing, quietly wishing that Cynthia could let go of her hand while they argued.

"Haha... pretty much." Inigo scratched the back of his head. "But they're good friends at heart, you know."

"Very, very deeply." Subaki added, holding little Caeldori on his arms.

"Hey, we're not friends!" Severa snapped.

"Yeah, don't lump me with this bag of unhappiness and- Oh my GOSH, IS THAT YOUR DAUGHTER? She's SO cute!"

"Bag of unhap- uh, yeah, she is-"

Cynthia quickly let go of Cressida and ran to the little baby who cooed and giggled at sound of her mother's voice. "Sooo cute! Peek-a-boo!" The pegasus knight poked the small puffy cheeks, "so unlike your Mommy, aren't you? Aren't youu?"

"Hey!"

"Hah, what a great display of camaraderie!" Owain laughed from the door, with both hands on his hips. Cressida raised one eyebrow in question, but kept her mouth shut.

She wondered if they would ever be able to have that tea.

They all ended up extending their visits to the last minute possible, though Severa and Subaki were the first ones to leave due to needing to tend to Caeldori. As always, they left a small present: a tiny feather hairpin much like the one Cordelia always uses, as well as the one Severa planned to give to her daughter once she grew out her hair.

Cynthia had brought a wooden rocking pegasus, always eager to recruit more girls to her Pegasus Knights. Hana and Inigo brought food they got as a gift after his latest performance at Olivia's stage.

"Haha, old companions are the best!" Still giddy, Owain did the dishes as Cressida lied down, exhausted.

The bow knight smiled, always happy to see how overjoyed her husband was whenever they had a visit. "I'm glad we came here." She said softly, not actually intending for him to hear it.

But he did. And he blushed as an embarrassed smile covered his face. "I can't thank you enough for agreeing to come with me, Mighty Cressida. We'll make this land our daughter's home, but we'll always remind her from whence her mother came from."

"Hmm... I don't mind it either way; it's not like I have many things I miss from Nohr, anyway." She shrugged. "Apart from some foods and sweets... Ah, crap, now I have a craving."

"Oh no!" Owain turned dramatically, spilling water everywhere. "My daughter's gonna be born with a nohrian sweet face!"

It was said that if the pregnant woman didn't eat whatever she was craving for, her child's head would be the shape of the food, regardless of what it was.

Chuckling, Cressida caressed her stomach. "Meh, I'll live. I don't know how to make it, anyway."

Owain looked to the ceiling, as though asking for divine intervention. "It is time... to call the cavalry." He said solemnly, closing his eyes.

Alarmed at his tone, Cressida opened her eyes. "Huh? Owain- what are you planning? Please don't tell me you're gonna hire another dubious-looking cook."

"Hey, that was one time! And he didn't look dubious, he was ragged by war and had three battle scars here-" He pointed to his arm, water dripping out of it.

"Before or after he tried to sack the house? I had to beat him up with a broom! Sir Frederick lectured us for two weeks after that."

Owain deflated, the mention of his father making him put his feet on the ground once more. "Hah, yeah, he was really mad, huh?"

"So, no more dubious-looking people, alright?"

"Fear not, Mighty Cressida, for I have only the purest people in mind! You shall see, mwhahaha!!"

"I'm getting worried..." She whispered to herself, "you are too, aren't you? Please tell Daddy that he's gotta talk to Mommy before inviting people over."

"H-hey, that's foul play-"

"She says you need to ask for her permission, too." Cressida said with a straight face, making Owain crumple on the floor out of cuteness.

"D-daddy will be good, he promises..." He lied down, covering his face. Just imagining both Cressida and their daughter ganging up on him made him feel overjoyed! DOUBLE the cuteness!

Nevertheless, Owain still wrote for two dear friends the next day, receiving their reply on the following morning. "Worry not, for your cravings shall be attended to, my love!" He beamed after reading the letter.

"So much mystery doesn't beckon you, dear. What is this all about?"

"Mwhaha... do you want to know? Do you truly, really, want to know?!" He smirked widely, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cressida turned an unamused gaze away from her husband. "Actually, nevermind."

"W-waiit!" Laughing, he took her hand. "Mighty Cressida wounds me again! But fear not, for this letter is open for you to read!" He pulled her to him, mindful of her stomach, sliding one hand behind her back.

She took the letter with a smile, but folded it and put it on his chest pocket. "It's okay, I'll wait for the surprise my husband so carefully prepared for me."

"I am unworthy of such love and trust!" He nudged her cheek, placing small kisses around her face towards her lips. They lingered on each other, simply enjoying their warm breathing, at peace with their life.

Their daughter was more than halfway there, and they couldn't wait to meet her!

Three days later, they were visited by the people Owain had called for previously: Noire and Brady.

"Behold, for they are the most astounding cooks you shall ever gaze upon!" He extended both hands to the duo, making Noire blush and hide behind the priest.

"I-I just like baking, is all. I'm so glad you called me, Owain! I can't wait to hear your poems again..."

"Ey, musclehead, take the bags inside already; there're fruits in there and they'll spoil if you keep 'em in the sun for too long." Unfazed by his friends loud behaviour, Brady pointed with his chin to the carriage him and Noire used to get there. There were dozens of ingredients there, alongside a few luggages. "We be stayin' for a few days, if that ain't much a problem."

"Dubious-looking cook..." Cressida blurted out, but quickly cleared her throat. "Uh, nice to meet you two, I'm Cressida, Owain's wife."

Brady choked. "Ey, tha's not a nice t-thing to say! I ain't the finest lookin' tool in the shed, but I ain't d-dubious..." He sniffled.

"Wait, are you crying ALREADY?" Owain came back from putting the fruits in the kitchen, "that's a new record, Brady of the Moistened Eyes!"

"P-please don't cry, Brady..." Noire patted his back, worried.

"I ain't crying, ya buncha doofus! It's just the smell of herbs' too strong 'round here. Let's haul ass inside already."

Cressida had heard about the mean-looking priest, but Owain never told her about his... tendency to tear up at any given moment. Later that evening, he said that he had 'vowed' not to say anything, though.

Still, the dichotomy between Brady's scowl, his behavior and the fancy-looking carriage that brought them there made Cressida wonder about his background. He wasn't a prince, that's for sure, since he wasn't at the castle... But was he a noble? That carriage had a crest and everything...

"Owain told us that you've been wanting to eat something from your homeland, Cressida." Noire started after everyone went back inside. "Oh, I'm Noire, by the way! I-I'm sorry for my manners..."

"It's okay, Noire. And that's right, but he really didn't need to call you guys all the way here for a silly craving... I don't even know how to make the sweets, anyway."

"Bulshit!" Brady started washing the fruits and vegetables. He was called there to make healthy and salty food, while Noire was in charge of the desserts and sweets. "A pregnant lady's wishes are final." He shuddered, remembering how even more bossy and prickly his mother, Maribelle, was during her pregnancy of this era's Brady.

"That's right," Noire concurred, remembering her own Mother and her mood swings. "Besides, you don't n-need to know how it was made; just tell me the general ingredients and I can try to recreate it!"

Smiling softly, Cressida sat back on the chair. "Well, if you insist, then by all means..."

Truly, she was blessed to be surrounded by thoughtful and loving people, so far away from home.

Though the taste of home came back on Noire's second try at the dessert. "You're REALLY good at this, Noire! You should open a bakery or something." Cressida mused, finally having her craving satisfied.

"By the beard of Ike! This is exactly like that sweet! You are a genius, Noire!" Owain snarfed down his portion with gusto, throwing a 'poem' in, as Noire liked to say.

The archer giggled shyly, hiding her face behind a table cloth. "Really? I'm glad you both like it so much. I just l-like baking, so I'm not sure about making it a business... Besides, I'm probably not suited to deal with customers." Her voice sounded somber, and Owain and Brady both felt a chill in the air.

Ah, yes.

Yeah, she's better off far from people who can stress her, after all. They nodded silently, taking the conversation in another turn.

The two of them stayed over at the guest room for about a week, and only left after writing down the recipes and where to find the best ingredients for them. "I-if you need me to bake something again, just send a bird! I'm always glad to help."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Owain bowed to the both of them as they left in yet another fancy carriage, making Cressida once again wonder about Brady's background.

"You have such good friends." She mused, holding his hand as they watched the carriage go.

"I do, don't I? I'm unworthy of them." He breathed out with a wide smile. "I'm glad I never gave up back then; I'm glad I fought until the end to fulfill my promise with Anankos... I'm glad to have gone there to meet you and come back here to show everyone the amazing wife I got in another world."

Cressida closed her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And to introduce her to the amazing companions you shared most of your life with."

"But of course! Now, what would milady want for dinner? We do have so many possibilities, after all!"

"Oh? Have you become such an accomplished cook in only three days?"

"You wound me, milady! I am the genius Dark Cook, Owain! Ask away and you shall receive!"

"Hah! Alright then, roll up your sleeves..."

Their days went by peacefully for the most part; though of course things would get rowdy whenever they got visitors (or another of Frederick's sweaters). Despite all that, Cressida's pregnancy progressed normally; and the bigger her belly became, the more nervous she and Owain -- especially Owain -- felt.

At that point, Lucina and Morgan visited almost daily, partly because they were worried about the both of them being on their own during the birthing, partly because Lissa compelled them to. Of course, Lissa herself visited and sometimes stayed the night, but she unfortunately couldn't be there every day. And that's what nephews and nieces are for, right?

During one such visits, Cressida started feeling unwell after getting up to put the tray back in the kitchen.

"I-is it coming?!" Morgan caught the tray before it fell on the floor as Lucina attended to Cressida, giving her space to breathe.

"I-I'm not sure? Maybe? O-ouch," she turned uncomfortably as Lucina carried her to the bed. "Yeah, definitely coming."

"Morgan, go call Owain, quickly! Tell him to bring the midwife with him. After you come back, I'll go to the palace to tell Aunt Lissa-"

"P-please, anything but that." Cressida held Lucina's hand as Morgan quickly ran out. "Can you just... stay here with me? Not saying anything? Owain and Morgan are gonna be loud enough."

Understanding falling into the princess' mind, Lucina's shoulders sagged as she intertwined her fingers with Cressida's. "Of course. Forgive me for not thinking of that. I'll stay for as long as you allow me."

"Thanks, Lucina, ouch." Cressida breathed out, strangely calm about it all. Maybe she would start freaking out once Owain arrived.

"Do you need anything? I'm a very good masseuse, you know."

"My back hurts a bit, so I might take you on that later, but for now I guess I need to, hufff... Breathe."

"Do you remember the exercises the midwife taught you? I witnessed some of the classes during Mother's second pregnancy, so I might be of use..."

"Yeah, I'm gonna need them, right abouuut... now." She huffed, hearing loud stomps coming from outside.

"CRESSIDA!" Owain banged the door open, huffing. He was carrying the midwife on his arms.

"Put me down now, dearie. There, thank you." The old lady said, patting her dress. "What a eager father he is, hm, Cressida? He snatched me from my home yelling 'BABY! MY BABY! COMING!' without so much of an explanation."

Cressida loudly snorted, covering her mouth so as not to laugh. "I can, uh, see that- ouch, haha!"

"A-are you alright?!" Owain ran to his wife's side as Lucina gave her seat to him. He held her hand, but was quickly thrown out of the chair by the midwife.

"She's fine, dearie. She's not even pale yet! I'll still need to fetch everything from home and call my assistants, if you excuse me..."

"P-please allow me to bring them all over. Stay here with her." He stuttered, dreading the thought of having Cressida be unattended for a single second.

"Oh, well, if you insist, dearie." The midwife sat back down, telling him to find her assistants first so they could bring everything they needed. "Also, you young man over there? Please boil some water, hm? You young lady can bring fresh towels."

Soon the royals scattered to do their assigned chores, the small house getting livelier by the second. As the midwife had said previously, the baby wasn't in much of a hurry to be born. It took Cressida a dozen of hours to finally be able to give birth to a healthy and loud little girl.

"It's really a girl! IT'S A GIRL!" Owain yelled louder than the baby's cries, his own tears falling unnoticed.

Breathing out, exhausted, Cressida looked at the tiny baby with fondness. "Finally we meet, Ophelia."

From outside the room, Lucina and Morgan heard the crying and exchanged a hug, their faces flushed and wet from tears. Every new birth was a new story beginning in a land now and forever blessed by peace! They couldn't wait to meet their little niece!

#owain #fire emblem awakening #lucina #morgan #chrobin #mention anyway hah #fatesona #my writings #Yuki's Commissions

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