#but this is particularly close to home for me as someone who had a front-row seat to the collapse at mishkan over the last year

[katelynnwrites]

Think I Forgot How To Be Happy, Something I’m Not (But Something I Can Be) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: reader’s prior messy break up

word count: 3642

summary: you leave north london broken but maybe in germany, you’ll meet someone who helps you to heal, part two can be found here

a/n: requested, some fluff for my fellow germany fans. also my brain kinda went off on it’s own tangent here so this is what it is 🥺😂

Germany is not somewhere you thought you would ever live in. Yet here you are, in your new and empty apartment, having signed for Wolfsburg.

Arsenal had been your home for as long as you could remember and you had never planned on leaving your childhood club.

You were happy there. Until you made the stupid decision to date a teammate.

That’s where it had all gone wrong for you.

The way your relationship had ended, you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The initial dismissal and pulling away by your ex had left you with trust issues.

The inevitable break up led to you falling out of love with North London. All the little corners and places in the city that you had once loved so much and therefore shared with your ex were now tainted with painful, sour memories.

So encouraged by your Arsenal teammates who have had a front row seat to the way your relationship had fallen apart, you had left the only home you had ever known for Wolfsburg.

******

You arrive in Wolfsburg to Jill’s open arms, the former Arsenal player having been instructed to look out for you.

She picks you up at the airport and brings you to the apartment where you would be staying.

The Dutch woman offers to stay and help you unpack but you give her a small smile and tell her you would be fine on your own.

You don’t want to say it but you need a moment alone, to process this enormous decision that you had made.

Jill understands and leaves but promises to be back so that you can carpool with her to your first training session with the German club.

Alone in your apartment, surrounded by cardboard boxes, you sigh and sit down to think.

******

Jill introduces you to your new teammates. They’re all welcoming, friendly and nice, excited to meet their new English teammate.

You’d remember a few of them, from international friendlies.

Lena Oberdorf especially because she had almost taken your ankle out with a solid tackle.

She rushes to greet you first, saying she is so glad to meet you and worrying if you hold any hard feelings towards her.

You didn’t and you tell her as much, giving her a warm smile.

Svenja Huth is next, taking her duties as captain very seriously and wanting to make sure you are fitting in okay.

The following faces you meet kind of blur together, unfamiliar German accents being the only thing you catch.

Until a brunette steps forward, meaning to introduce herself only for a blonde to interrupt her loudly, ‘I’m Jule and this is Felicitas.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ She mumbles, making Jule giggle.

‘Ignore her please. I’m Feli and it’s really nice to meet you.’

You laugh and shake her hand.

Feli smiles and you give her one in return.

******

As lovely as your new teammates are, you’re still not letting them in and keeping your guard up.

It bothers them, when you make excuses to miss team meals and leave team bondings early.

You play well with them on the field, connecting easily and creating goal scoring opportunities. Your talent is not something that was ever in doubt but now it shines through. The German style of play suits you.

But your distance concerns them enough that they ask Jill, the only one who you seem willing to open up to about why you seem so closed off and sad.

Jill tells them about your messy break up and how much it had hurt you.

She doesn’t share enough to violate your privacy but what she said had been enough.

Your Wolfsburg teammates are kinder to you after that, patiently waiting for you to let them in.

Especially Feli who is particularly enamored with you. With your English accent and smile.

The German has been trying to keep her growing feelings for you under wraps but it’s been getting harder for her to do so.

She loves spending time with you, adores the way your eyes light up when you find something funny.

When she finds out you’re a dog person, she brings her dog to training.

Feli watches as you laugh, letting her poodle lick your hand. Her heart skips a beat when you look up at her, a big grin on your face.

The sound of your laughter gives her a warm feeling inside, so much so that she’s smiling like a fool.

Jill leans against the wall with her and quietly says, ‘Well done. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her since she got here.’

‘I just want her to be happy.’ Feli murmurs, shrugging lightly.

In that moment, Jill realises exactly how smitten her teammate is.

******

You weren’t blind. You know that your teammates know what is up with you.

But slowly and surely, their patience and kindness begins to pay off.

Feli is a big part of that.

The German player had caught onto how much you love her dog and had repeatedly invited you to a park not far from the training grounds.

At first you had made your usual excuses but Felicitas had been gentle but persistent in her asking, so much so that you had acquiescenced.

In the time you spend with Feli and Cinnamon, you get to know them both.

Cinnamon loves getting the spot behind her ears scratched and Feli loves her coffee.

As you grow more and more familiar with a certain German, you find yourself developing feelings for her.

Eventually it gets to the point where you wake up one morning, on an off day and catch yourself excitedly getting ready to see her at the park.

You don’t go that day.

You ignore all her subsequent texts and calls.

They are anxious and worried at first but soon get even more frantic.

You hide under your blankets and keep your phone far away from you.

So great is the pain in your heart and so heavy are the thoughts in your head that you forget that you gave Jill a spare key when you moved in.

The depth of Feli’s feelings for you are not to be underestimated because soon enough, she’s there with Jill.

Jill who takes one look at you in your room and quietly sits down beside you on the bed, where you’re curled up.

‘Schat, I know that you’re scared of what you might feel for Feli but for what it’s worth, I believe that she couldn’t be more different than your ex.’

The Dutch woman waits a moment and upon not getting any response, sighs.

‘She was so worried you know. Feli practically begged me to come here and check on you.’

‘Was she?’ You softly ask, tearing up slightly as Jill talks about the German woman who has found her way in your heart despite your best efforts to keep her out.

‘She still is. I couldn’t convince her to go back to her apartment so she’s here. I managed to get her to wait in your living room till I spoke with you.’

‘She’s here?’

You panic and stand up, rushing to pull your bedroom door open.

Felicitas freezes, she’d been pacing you think.

Cinnamon barks happily and runs up to you. The brown poodle gets an absentminded pet from you before you straighten back up.

You keep staring at Feli and barely notice Jill leaving the apartment after saying that she’d give the two of you a moment.

‘Hi.’ Feli softly says.

‘Felicitas.’

‘You’re the only one who I don’t mind calling me that you know? Well, other than my parents.’ The brunette gives a tiny laugh before she takes a step towards you.

‘You mean a lot to me. The way I feel about you isn’t a secret.’

The sharp inhale that escapes you is loud. You didn’t know that your feelings were returned and the anxiety her confession causes must be clear on your face.

Feli’s eyes widen and she quickly says, ‘I know someone hurt you badly and I want you to know that I would never do that. I really care for you and I'd just like you to know that if you ever want to let me in, I'll be here. You don’t have to feel the way I feel but I'm here. I'm always going to be here for you. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.’

‘You promise?’

The way your voice wavers makes your unsurety apparent.

It’s why Feli doesn’t hesitate to answer with certainty, ‘I promise.’

You stay silent, trying to see if she really means it.

After a moment, you decide she does. You trust that she does.

‘Okay. D-Do you still want to go to our park now?’

It’s a tiny nervous step from you but a step nonetheless.

‘Of course.’ Feli is quick to agree, a wide smile on her face.

The fact that you had referred to the park as yours and hers, gives her butterflies in her stomach.

******

You join your teammates for lunch.

If Feli had to bring Cinnamon and sit beside you for the whole meal, she didn’t care.

Neither did your teammates who are over the moon that you are finally comfortable enough to start letting them in.

They don’t explicitly say anything to you but the way they grin and hug you, shows you that they care.

The meal is lighthearted and fun, situated at a pet friendly restaurant, to accomodate Cinnamon.

By the end of it, you have decided that getting to know your teammates outside of training wouldn’t be so bad.

Especially if Feli was going to hold your hand every time she thought you were anxious.

******

You begin going over to Feli’s apartment.

She convinced you to come over one day, after playing fetch with Cinnamon, saying that she’d like to introduce you to proper homemade German food.

You’d hesitated but she had looked at you so pleadingly you could not say no.

So you said yes.

And that is how the twice a week dinners started because the food that Felicitas makes is just so good.

You might even say that it makes you fall a little harder for her.

Feli tries to teach you how to cook but it doesn’t really work out. It’s almost laughable really, how hard the both of you try, you to cook and her to teach you.

Eventually the two of you just resign yourselves to the fact that it wouldn’t work and settle into a new routine.

One where you go shopping for groceries together and cook together in Feli’s apartment.

A routine where you insist on paying for the groceries since she cooks and where you sit on the counter, sneaking pieces of food to Cinny as you watch her cook.

******

As the months pass by in Germany, you make sure to keep in contact with your old Arsenal teammates.

Your English teammates you still see at camp but you miss your other teammates.

Especially Lia who you have always been particularly close to.

Lia who you call one night, to have her answer your video call with a knowing smile.

‘Lia?’ You nervously question.

‘You’re falling in love.’

‘What? Lia no.’

‘I was watching the game today. I saw you run to a certain Felicitas Rauch as soon as she went down. You were the first one by her side.’

‘I care a lot about all my teammates. I’d do the same for you.’

Lia doesn’t just laugh, she giggles.

‘Yes but you wouldn’t be smoothing sweaty hair off my face or helping me sit up. Or holding my hand as you walk me back to my position.’

You frown, remembering the moment from earlier.

Feli had been tackled and had gone down holding her ankle. She had not got back up, so you had sprinted right over.

Upon hearing her pained gasps, you had immediately tried to soothe her pain as best as you could.

It hadn’t occurred to you that it would be broadcasted on live television.

You had just been so focused on Feli and the fact that she had been hurting. Everything else was unimportant then.

The way Felicitas had gratefully held your hand as the medics checked out her ankle, it assured you that you had made the right decision.

Lia’s new fit of giggles brings you out of your thoughts.

‘I’d hold your hand and walk you back to your position if you wanted.’ You grumble.

The Swiss woman laughs once more before looking at you seriously.

‘I’m so glad you’re healing. It wasn’t easy to see how broken you were before.’

‘Feli’s been…’

You trail off, not knowing how to explain exactly how kind, patient and warm the defender has been to you.

Lia nods, ‘I know Feli and I know you. I also know that you’ll be good for each other.’

‘I don’t know Lia. I’m just so scared. Feli means so much to me and she’s been incredibly sweet but there’s always the chance that this all goes wrong. I love Germany and I feel at home here now. I don’t want to lose that again.’

Your former teammate nods once more, understanding your fears.

But then she asks something you should have asked yourself a long time ago.

‘Why does Germany feel like home?’

The answer is one you know deep down. Germany only feels like home because of Felicitas.

******

You curl into Feli’s body, your palm resting on her stomach.

She shifts, allowing you to get more comfortable.

‘Thanks.’ You whisper, so as to not disturb the rest of your teammates during the movie screening and she presses a kiss onto your hair in response.

You don’t stop her when she presses a second and then a third affectionately.

If anything, you relax even further into her.

With her so close, you can hear and feel the way her breath stutters every time the movie picks up.

It seems that Feli scares easily and you find that adorable.

******

Twice a week dinners at Feli’s apartment become a nightly occurrence.

One evening when it’s her turn to host team bonding, you answer the door.

Jill smirks.

You roll your eyes.

She catches you alone, in Feli’s kitchen later on.

‘Whatever you two are, it’s not just friends.’

‘I know.’ You say softly and despite Jill’s excited follow up and slightly invasive questions, you don’t say anything else.

******

Despite how close you and Feli are, she’s not your bus buddy.

Your bus buddy is Jill and hers is Kathy.

Today though, Felicitas is having a hard time.

It didn’t matter that Wolfsburg had won the game. By her high standards, she had played an awful game and she’s just so tired. She is exhausted and furious at herself.

All she wants is to go back to her apartment and sleep. And maybe cuddle with Cinnamon a bit.

Feli is so out of it that she doesn’t notice Jill nudging you and not too quietly murmuring, ‘Go to her.’

Kathy switches with you easily once she sees you coming towards her.

It doesn’t occur to Feli that you have noticed her change in behaviour and would want to check in on her.

So when you slide into the seat beside her and reach out to hold her hand, she jumps with surprise.

‘I got you.’ You promise and guide her to lean against your shoulder.

Felicitas does so with a breath of relief.

When you carefully kiss her cheek and pull her even closer, Feli thinks that everything is going to be okay.

******

You’re more affectionate with her than ever and Feli loves it.

She loves how comfortable you are around her now, from holding her hand on team walks to cuddling with her on her couch.

Now, having traveled back to North London, for the Champions League, Feli is especially glad you’re letting your walls down.

She knows it would be hard for you to be back in your old home so she wants to be there for you, as best as she can.

Svenja had given out the room assignments and you had eagerly pressed a kiss onto Feli’s cheek when you found out she would be with you.

‘Hi roomie.’ You’d teased and she had held out her hand to you.

‘Hello.’ Feli murmurs, smiling when you take her hand.

As she follows you into the elevator, she makes a mental note to thank her captain.

******

You’re so excited to be back in North London. You’ve missed the city and your friends.

You’re even more excited to take Felicitas to your favourite cafe.

She loves coffee more than anyone you have ever known and you hope that she likes the coffee there.

Unfortunately that has to wait till after the game. You will have a chance to do that tomorrow, before you fly back to Germany.

First you have to play and hopefully win against your former team.

But for now, you’re content to watch Feli get ready for bed.

Felicitas who looks so cute with her glasses on.

So you tell her that and she blushes, making you laugh.

******

Feli squeezes your hand in hers as you line up in the tunnel. The Arsenal players aren’t here yet so the defender takes a moment to check on you.

‘You okay?’ She asks and you nod, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck.

You take a deep breath in and Felicitas rubs your back soothingly.

She smells nice and you allow her to calm you down.

Feli places a brief kiss onto your forehead and then steps back as the Arsenal players join your team in the tunnel.

‘Lia!’

The Swiss player hugs you immediately. Lia’s eyes meet Feli’s and she mouths, ‘Thank you.’

******

Your game ends as a draw.

As you go around shaking hands and sharing hugs with your former teammates, there’s a lot of laughter.

But when you’ve made your rounds, you’re back at Feli’s side, slipping your hand into hers as she walks back towards the tunnel.

Feli looks at you in surprise.

‘Don’t you want to spend time with your old teammates?’

‘I have.’ You answer but Felicitas squeezes your hand.

‘Don’t you want to spend more time with them?’

‘Nope. I want to spend time with you now.’

‘Oh.’ Felicitas’ cheeks turn a bright pink and she brings your joined hands up to her lips so that she can kiss the back of your palm.

If Lia or your ex sees the short moment, they don’t say anything.

If your ex-girlfriend glances at Lia, the Swiss woman’s only response is to shrug as if to say, ‘You’ve lost her.’

******

‘To go or having here?’ The barista asks.

Feli eyes you in question and you say, ‘To go please.’

As you wait for your coffees to be ready, you explain, ‘There’s somewhere I want you to see. It meant a lot to me when I was growing up here.’

Felicitas simply holds your hand and smiles at you reassuringly in answer.

When you leave the cafe, she deposits your joined hands in her jacket pocket for warmth. In doing so, she catches the expression of complete adoration on your face and feels the familiar butterflies in her stomach flutter around.

‘How’s your coffee?’ You ask, as you lead her down the street.

Feli grins, ‘It’s good. I understand why this is your favourite coffee.’

‘It isn’t anymore.’ You whisper.

‘It isn’t?’

‘Yours is.’

Felicitas visibly tries and fails to fight back her smile.

‘It’s the cinnamon I put inside isn’t it? I told you it would grow on you.’

‘You were right.’ You admit and Feli laughs. Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand and you duck your head to hide the way your cheeks burn.

‘Come on. We’re almost there.’

‘Okay.’ Feli murmurs.

******

It’s only a short walk from there and it’s spent in comfortable silence.

When you reach a small side street, you gently tug Felicitas with you, into a park just beside it.

‘It’s beautiful here.’ Feli quietly says.

‘It is. But you should see it in the summer. There’s so many flowers then.’

You and Feli sit down beside each other on the bench. You rest your head on her shoulder and Felicitas exhales.

She finishes her cup of coffee and then sets it aside.

‘Why’d you bring me here? Not that I don’t want to spend time with you but why?’

Sitting up properly, you look at Feli for a long moment.

Her eyes are so pretty you think.

Gingerly, you reach out to trace the contours of her jaw. Felicitas melts, leaning into your touch.

Very very slowly, you begin to close the gap.

Feli catches on immediately and she gently stops you.

Your eyes widen with hurt and you pull away, making the German player rush to stop you.

‘Liebling I want this. I really really do. I just need to make sure that it’s what you want too.’ She softly says.

‘Felicitas…’

Feli tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It’s an infinitely sweet gesture that has your breath catching.

‘You met your ex-girlfriend last night and I know you’re saying you’re okay but that couldn’t possibly have been easy for you.’

‘It wasn’t. But I am okay Felicitas.’

‘But you-’

‘Feli I don’t care about her. I care about you!’

Felicitas stares at you wordlessly.

‘I never brought her here, I’ve never brought anyone here except for you. This is the park where I first learnt to play football.

Your voice is barely audible when you say, ‘It means the world to me and so do you Felicitas.’

This time, when you try to kiss her, Feli doesn’t stop you. She meets you halfway instead.

Dutch Translation:

schat - darling

German Translation:

liebling - love

[skelebellie]

FIRST MEETINGS

million knives [stampede] x plant?reader drabble

synopsis: you meet knives for the first time. he thinks your someone else.

content warning: mentions of sharp weapons, blood, and physical altercations

this an equal household. i pine after all siblings equally. [aka i think knives is a goofy dude and his characterization in stampede is kiss kiss].

—————

it was a particularly normal day as you spent your time around town, discovering odd patterned geological formations that helped adhere the homes to the sand below it.

was it the smartest idea to go into a dark alley alone. no. did you think anything would happen to you in the middle day. also no.

you were lost in the sauce. failing to notice the screams of town folk as you observed the calcified rock. one moment you were holding it and then boom, it was dark.

when you woke up, you were shocked to be in a white room. it sent shivers up your spine, as the environment caused old memories to rise to the surface. questions could wait until later, for now you’d try to get out of here. hopefully the town was still there when you got back.

the door was unlocked, odd considering you were kidnapped.

you also didn’t have shoes on, thankfully that old socks separated the floor and your feet. you could sense your bag somewhere within the building, your body able to feel the shawl of plant material that you had been born with, always tucked into your bag.

it was like you were an assassin, peering around every corner and ears on high alert.

the closer you got to your objective, the quieter it seemed to get. an odd sense of loneliness filling the room.

you had found your bag and shawl, even your shoes (thank god, you didn’t have the money for new ones). the only downside being that some blondie covered in a robe was holding it, allowing light to shine through the transparent shawl.

you became defensive knowing he was touching something as important as your shawl, so you started making fast paces towards him. “Hey! You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong-“. The sense of danger came first, luckily stopping you from making too much contact with the tail of sharp objects that wrapped around you. it certainly didn’t save your overalls, as a large rip formed across the front panel. damnit, now you’d have to sew it back again.

“anything plant belongs to me. im its rightful owner, a god” blondie chided at you, only causing more anger to bubble up to your throat. “J.J Doe, right? Elusive scientist who has published series of plant based experiments. No committee or board to shift through your work, your research seems to pop up in small town libraries. Never the same one.” The man stepped down from his pedestal, inching closer to you. You backed up, only for a reactive spindle of metal(?) to wrap around your neck. it swiped, leaving a sliver of blood and for the stop part of your turtleneck to fall to the ground. the more he keeps going the more work you’ll have to do to fix whatever clothes you have.

“i detest humans, a species of parasitic worms who use plants as tools for their selfish survival. however, I hate those who knowingly use their will to torture my brotheren even more.” he was too close for comfort now. a string of knives swiping close to your forehead, which you barely dodged by shifting backwards. the shift in weight caused you to fall backwards, rows of spindles wrapping around your legs, keeping you from getting up from the floor.

“should i take a finger for each sin you have committed. maybe slowly sever you limb from limb, so you may know the suffering of the plants who you experimented on. maybe-“ You were too focused on the rows of knives wrapped around your legs to notice that he now stood atop of you. crouching to straddle you as his eyes sent daggers into your mind, like a searing hot flash of static. “i should do it with my own hands. as disgusting as you vile creatures are.” his hand slowly began to approach your neck. his weapons should have instilled enough fear into you, but now you seemed petrified, tears threatening to pour at the very thought of him touching you.

“disgusting.” he muttered, looking down as you. his hand wrapped around your neck, and immediately began to squirm, your leg receiving shallow cuts as it brushed against the sharp cage around it. the contact sent an immediate blossom of heat from your neck. you wish it was another gang of badland raiders, anything but an independent plant. you covered yourself up to avoid making contact with anyone, trying to prevent the surge of information that you would receive and give which writhed out of your control.

behind closed eyes, you could see the blossom of blue, geometric shapes spreading from your chest to your neck, reaching out to the man who’s hand was around your neck. the closer it got the more erratic you reacted. It seemed like the man above you no longer intended to kill you, for now. Instead he fixated his eyes to the spread of patterns slowly approaching his hand, his own body reacting in a similair manner. the contact left your mind heavy with shocks of malice, anger, and pain? The scorching sensation caused a moan of pain to spill from your lips as fat tears fell from your eyes.

The man above you felt the fear over the connection, a dark pit of misunderstanding and embarrassment overflowing with an ebb and flow of confusion. flashes of images of syringes and scalpels as you held the blade towards yourself, harvesting your flash to run under analysis. you hadn’t been experimenting on other plants, you had been experimenting on parts of yourself.

the cage around your legs unwinded, as did the hand around your neck. you quickly moved your arms to cover your eyes, still unable to cope with the wave of information that was forced into your head. however, your action failed as another hand wrapped around your wrists to move your arms from your face, revealing puffy eyes and still falling tears. another hand came up to caress underneath your lashes, gathering the salty tears before they could run onto the floor.

“interesting. not entirely human, not entirely plant.” the contact caused a shocking sensation underneath your skin, flinching as his thumb made lazy circles on your cheek. you relaxed, feeling as if the threat of danger was finally over with. until the blunt end of a knife slammed into the already bruised skin at the base of your neck. knocking you out once more.

[ihatesocialmedia45]

Chapter 7: For Better or Worse (In Sickness...)

06/06/2020:

Journal,

I saved for months to get front-row tickets to his V51 event; I'd planned to finally say something to him, though I don't know what. I just wanted... to see him. To feel the brush of his cape as he turned to go. He'd been staring into the cameras, though, never looked at the audience - but as much as that hurt, I understood. I hadn't wanted to look at the audience, either; the way they clamored for photos, begged for autographs when it was nearing midnight, and he must be busy tomorrow. He couldn't have known that somewhere in that crowd, was someone who at least tries to see. Tries to understand. Someone who also comes home to a lonely house - one that, for all my decorating, I can't seem to make less empty. 

I read up on his time with  Maeve, just to see, to imagine what it might be like to date him... it was hours of work; someone had wanted to keep it hidden. But I finally found an article, where Maeve had discussed it herself. The interviewer had asked her to summarize her relationship with Homelander in one word. She'd said "overwhelming".

I was angry. I was so, so, unbelievably angry - because I would do anything to be smothered, anything to be overwhelmed. To be loved so totally that there isn't room for anything else. I thought to myself - how could she appreciate that kind of love, when she had no idea what it took for someone to offer it? I love like I want to devour, to be devoured. And that day, I knew that he felt the same. 

Homelander... I want that kind of love. It's not too much for me. I want you to wrap me in it, subsume me. Hold me by the waist, kiss me, then drag me into your abyss. 

Hold me close, until I can't tell which heartbeat is mine, and which is yours.

Noir hung upside down from the rope in the center of his room, feeling the blood pool in his skull. He couldn't take off the mask to smoke, or drink - not that he'd cared for such vices - and so, in light of a particularly stressful meeting, he'd found his own alternative. Everyone in the Seven had a vice, he supposed. Everyone had their demons.

As he closed the woman's journal Stan had given him, he took a deep inhale, exhaling slowly. This... was worse than he'd thought. When he'd first been tasked to investigate the woman, he'd set off earnestly, hearing Sage and Maeve's plans of tailing Homelander and realizing that this developing romance had gotten out of hand. It was good that all of them were aware to the danger this union could bring. It almost felt like teamwork.

But as he'd spied, creeping into her apartment at night, he'd gotten a horrible feeling. Immediately, upon entering, he was struck with the force of the temperature. The entire place was sweltering, the very air shimmering with the heat. He'd actually had to pull off his mask for a moment, and rinse his face, before carrying on.  The way the apartment was decorated, firstly, filled him with a deep sense of foreboding, of unease. It was saccharine in its sweetness - an armoire full of porcelain figurines, flanked by two antique-looking lamps. A pastel floral wallpaper with vintage-looking teddy bears, pasted in the living room. A large glass table which held more figurines, old cards, a stack of magazines that all featured Homelander, another framed photo of him on the wall. A bearskin rug lay underneath the table, the eyes vacant and unseeing. Noir had sniffed, recoiling in disgust. It had been real. And the couch... that couch... Noir remembered looking at it, feeling an inescapable pull to rest in its embrace -  and, upon doing so, feeling like it was pulling him into its downy recesses, never to return. He gave a rare shudder.

What really interested him, though, was the small space behind the bookshelf in her bedroom. He'd been looking for more articles to take to Vought, possibly something with her DNA, when he'd moved the shelf, expecting a lip gloss - and finding a hollowed out space in the wall, where she'd set up a shrine.

Candles, articles - even a piece of old, hardened gum in a jar labelled "His", in deliberate print. And, of course, the pictures. So, so, many pictures. He looked through them, a vague sense of horror crawling under his skin, trying to piece together who she was, really - when he'd seen the most disturbing piece of her collection: a candid photo of Homelander, poised for flight, his cape billowing, and his head pointed high.

But he wasn't truly worried. Homelander and this girl... it would all be a disaster. But that was because she and Homelander were disasters, and there was no way for them to be anything else. Maybe, he considered dryly, it was fate that they met. Noir remembered watching John grow, from that spindly boy in the hospital gown, into the creature he was now. It had been like watching a supernovae; one bright flash, the hurling of all that molten rock and gas through space... and then the settling in of biting, unrelenting cold. If he never met her... Noir couldn't imagine things going any differently.

Sliding quickly into an upright position, he wobbled on his feet, watching the room around him warp and swirl, the hint of nausea in his gut making him hold a hand to his mouth. He waited for a moment, then uncapped the water bottle he'd placed on the desk nearby, pulling the water through the straw and his mask, taking a deep swig. Finally, he let out an inaudible sigh. 

Today would be a long day.

Homelander raced down the halls, his feet pointed to add a boost of speed as he flew, zipping past Vought personnel and ducking around groups of people. He had plans to meet her today, and he would not be late. She was going to cook him dinner, she'd said, the thought making him zoom faster. His mouth watered; he hadn't eaten since she'd given him the news, but he liked the way the hunger sharpened his focus, turned him into an icy dagger.

Breaking free of the doors of Vought, he skidded to a stop, landing lightly on his feet, considering the past few days with a smile that was almost serene. He'd been so ready to give up on them during their coffee date, he chastised himself, shaking his head. But she'd shown him, hadn't she? Shown that she was honest, that she understood. At least... he thought she might. He could never be too sure. Madelyn had seemed to understand, too. 

Pushing the thought of her from his mind, Homelander stepped into the florist's shop, a grin blooming on his face. He'd indulge her, for now, though he expected - no, deserved - some further proof soon, that she was exactly who she professed to be.

The woman stirred the white sauce she was making with a soft look in her eye, bringing the spoon to her lips to taste. Oldies music played smoothly in the background, and she hummed along, imagining the feel of Homelander behind her, turning to offer him the spoon. One day, it really might be like that - him, coming home to her, sweeping her into his arms, the tail of his cape enveloping her. She thought back to the kiss they'd shared, a grin lighting up her face. The way he'd held her... 

Too many times, other people had told her that her love was too much, that she was too much. They couldn't bear the weight of her embrace, and so they'd pushed her away each time she'd offered. She was on the verge of believing that there was no-one alive that matched her intensity, wanted that same intensity given back to them. He hadn't been interested in the façade she offered to everyone else, she considered. But was it really true? She wanted so badly to believe that it was, that she could present to him that dream of subsumption, and he'd accept - no, reciprocate.

"Oh, Homelander... I've just been hurt so many times," she sighed, taking the ground beef out of the oven and the sauce into the meat. She seasoned liberally, adding a dollop more of cream, before tasting again, a soft, satisfied sigh leaving her. The dinner was hearty, and cozy - solid; everything she'd wanted, everything she hoped to give him. She hoped he'd understand.

A knock on the door startled her, and she leapt for the door, a grin splitting her face. She checked her makeup in the mirror quickly, and looked around to make sure everything was just right; she'd switched out a few of the bulbs in her lamps for soft pink ones, and dropped a few leather and vanilla melts into her wax warmer, filling the air with a thick, rich scent. She'd adorned herself with a hint of perfume - the Yves Saint Laurent she saved for special occasions - on her neck, her breasts, her inner thighs. Tonight was the night, she'd decided when she'd told him about her plans. 

Taking a deep breath, she swept open the door, looking up into what should have been Homelander's face - but instead, she stared into a bouquet of roses so large they blocked out the outside. She gasped, pulling him in. "Oh, my goodness! Homelander!" She gently took the roses from him, inhaling deeply, satisfied to find a trace of his scent among the petals. She placed them into the vase on the table. "These are beautiful," she murmured, looking up at him, and taking him into a gentle kiss.

He pulled her in immediately, lifting her off her feet and pressing into her, the shift of their bodies guiding them to the couch. She relaxed onto its pillowy surface, pulling him on top of her and gasping when he pressed his lips to the shelf of her jaw. Lips parted, she sighed out contentedly as his hands roamed her body, squeezing, pulling her. Needing her. She explored his body in turn, drawing him closer with her arms, the brush of her thighs against his waist making him shudder.

Finally, they pulled apart, a dopey smile on each of their faces. "Hi," Homelander greeted her, the tip of his nose glowing a faint pink. She kissed the spot, her answering greeting just as shy. "Hi," she breathed, ending in a soft laugh.

Reluctantly, they moved off of the couch, though a spark of hunger still lingered in the air; Homelander raked his eyes over her, the feline curve of her spine, the shelf of her collarbone. She breezed over to the kitchen, ladling their dinner into bowls, a large mixing bowl for Homelander, a smaller one for herself. "I hope you're hungry!" she called. Homelander grinned.

You have no clue, he thought, rising to meet her.

Joining the woman in the kitchen was like stepping into another world, Homelander marveled. She'd carried that same warmth from the living room here, the frilly decorative towels and fluffy coasters making him feel... fuzzy. He'd gotten better about being angry at her for inspiring these feelings as of late; he still felt the unease, that this was somehow a cruel trick - like she might be some Vought honeypot cooked up by Stan to get him to comply. But he'd found out everything about her; she'd never set foot in Vought until he brought her. She worked at the office downtown. Despite the violent churning in his brain that told him not to trust her, not to grow weak... he couldn't help but feed the belief that she just might care. 

But had she made him weak? It certainly had felt like it, in the beginning. But now... that the thought that this wasn't like the other times clung to him fiercely, like a sticky wrapper on a piece of candy. She really might just... want him.

She looked up at him then, brandishing a spoon, offering him a taste - and his body immediately lit up with an intensity that set his nerves singing, vibrating. Dinner, just as she'd promised him.

He opened his mouth, letting her guide the spoon to him, closing his eyes as the flavors danced on his tongue. 

Savory. Hearty. Indulgent. Rich.

Homelander moaned, the sound shocking his eyes open - but when he looked down at the woman, she was staring into him with a voracity that made his stomach seize. She caught her lip in between her teeth, before subtly licking her lips, eyes half drawn in a hypnotic gaze. "That good, huh?" she asked him softly. He nodded, flexing his hands. 

But they'd have to eat; Homelander's stomach grumbled, and she laughed in response, patting his stomach gently. "Alright, alright! I'll get on it," she told it teasingly, setting their plates on the living room table with Homelander close behind. They sunk into the couch, letting a show run in the background as they ate.

"What did you do today?" she asked him. Homelander thought, brow furrowed as he finished his bite. "You know what? I think was actually on autopilot until I came here," he said. "I feel the same way," she said, scooping a bite into her mouth. "I woke up, got the ingredients for our dinner, then went to work... and I couldn't tell you a single thing I did." They laughed together.

"This is delicious, by the way," Homelander mumbled around a bite of pasta and ground beef. "Family recipe?" 

A tinge of pain flitted across her eyes - nearly too quick for him to notice. "No," she said, "I made this one myself, actually! I'd been experimenting with recipes I already liked, then I added truffle one day, and it finally clicked."

Tell me why that made you sad, Homelander urged. Tell me who hurt you.

"My little chef," he said instead, pressing a kiss to her forehead, purring when she melted against him.

It was too perfect, the both of them eating this cozy meal, in this dollhouse replica. Things were easy, Homelander thought, as long as they kept the mask on. But then, what was he doing here, if he was only going to pretend, and let her pretend? Pretend that they weren't lonely, pretend that there wasn't a darkness festering - at least, within him. Maybe she did share that darkness... but as long as she played the perfect girl, he'd never know. This couldn't go on. Homelander sat up straight, his eyes now sharper as he looked at her.

"I lied. Just now. I do remember what I did today." he faced her, daring (begging) her to meet his gaze. She did, and did not waver.

"I flew to China... and set fire to a rival company's manufacturing plant. I burned it to the ground. There were a total of 200 casualties."

A beat of silence passed as she looked into him, her gaze unflinching. Any moment now, he thought, would come the rejection, the horror. He'd torn them to pieces, just as he'd tear her apart for rejecting him after promising so much...

She cocked her head. "Why?" she asked simply, confusion coloring her tone. Homelander started. "What?" "Why... do it? Is Vought struggling? Were you under orders?"

Homelander struggled to process her question, so abruptly had it brought him up short. She was asking him why. Not running in fear, or begging for her life - but asking why he'd done it, as if she were asking if he'd like to go out for dinner. Homelander opened his mouth, then closed it.

"I..." Why had he done it? Some need to prove his godhood, his usefulness to Stan? Homelander grit his teeth. Even if it were true, he wouldn't tell her that. But the question bared answering; that was only fair. He'd confronted her with it - and she'd called his bluff.

"Because it needed to be done," he'd answered finally. There. That was true enough, he thought, a little irritated by the way she'd put him on the spot... but secretly relieved all the same. She resumed her dinner, a curious hint of amusement in her eyes.

You big silly, she thought, wanting to kiss him. You don't scare me.

"Then... I guess it was a good day for Vought," she said cheekily. Homelander narrowed his eyes.

"That doesn't bother you? I razed a building to the ground, with innocent people inside... and you're joking?" She set down her bowl and looked him fully in the face now, levity gone from her eyes. 

"Everyone has to die sometime," she murmured. Homelander gave a low growl.

"But - not like that! That... why are you okay with this?! Why are you okay with..." with me?

She leaned in, as though she'd heard the unfinished plea, and pressed a kiss, achingly slow, to the tip of his nose, looking back at him with that impossibly warm expression.

"Because... you'd said... it needed to be done. I believe you."

 A moment of disbelief, the Sword of Damocles hanging sharp in the air above them - and then he was kissing her, pulling her by the hips again, pulling her on top of him and pressing enough that he could feel the faint twinge of her heart against him. She felt it, too, moaned loud in his ear, kissing him breathless and coming up ragged for air. She kissed him like she wanted to make her home in between his ribs, merge into him completely; she wrapped her arms around him, gasping in the scent of him, feeling that perfect blanketing of her body when he flipped her onto her back, wrapped her in the cocoon of his cape. 

He pressed into her, insistent and hot, desire drawn all over his face, and she licked a slow stripe up his neck before taking him into another, slower kiss, melting into his touch, pressing herself into him at every point.

Homelander was murmuring into her skin, reverent snatches of words she felt rather than heard, each one binding something that had been broken inside her. He stitched her together on that couch - and suddenly, she knew what she had to do, to stitch him up in turn.

Lightly, she pushed him off of her, gathering her breath, her heart suddenly jittery in her chest. She hadn't wanted to do this - wanted to keep kissing, doing more - but he'd been honest with her tonight, done his part; now it was her turn.

"I want to show you something," she whispered, fear coloring her tone. Homelander's brow furrowed. 

This was it, then. She'd go into the other room, reveal that she'd been recording all along, that all the news stations would be reporting of his overseas massacre - and he'd have nothing left to lose. A vision of him, soaring through the sky and raining hell down on the city, flashed through his mind... and Homelander felt at peace. This was inevitable, he thought, letting her lead him away from the couch, and into her bedroom. It had been nice while it lasted.

He leaned down, to press one last kiss to her lips, as she opened the door. "Sorry for the mess," she apologized weakly. Homelander looked up, and gasped.

The room... was impossibly cozy. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting a rosy glow over the room, and pink and cream candles adorned the bookshelf and sewing desk. A dramatic coral canopy hung above her bed, and he flexed his fingers at the sight of the sheets, the duvet. Even from here, he could tell - it was real silk. A framed print hung above her desk, a zoomed in segment of the Creation of Adam, focused solely on their hands. She had painted over it; instead of empty space, the fingers now touched.

"This... is beautiful," Homelander murmured despite himself. The woman flushed. "Thank you! I've been decorating for years, it seems." Her face turned somber, a note of apprehension in her eyes.

"But... that's not what all I wanted to show you," she whispered. Homelander flicked his gaze over to her at the sound of unshed tears in her voice, and he suddenly felt the sense that this revelation would be something not even he had expected.

"Homelander..." she breathed. He took a step closer, eyes searching. "What is it?" he murmured, drawing her face to meet his with the tip of his finger. She took a deep inhale.

"All my life... people have called me... intense. Overwhelming. Suffocating. And for so long, I felt like there was nobody who would accept me, as I am. But that changed... when I met you. Oh, Homelander..." he kissed her, quickly, pulling away with an urgency in his eyes that froze her.

"What are you saying?" he whispered. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "If you're disgusted... if you... if you want to pull away from me..." she choked back a sob, "I'll understand."

The couple stared at each other, hearts racing. She looked up at him again, fear and resignation draining the color of her face. In the flickering candlelight, she looked like a tragic painting, all shiny eyes and swollen lips. Homelander fought the urge to kiss her tears away.

"I want you... to move the bookshelf." she said it like she wished she hadn't, wished she could snatch the words back... but it was too late, the air tinged with their weight.

Homelander shifted his gaze to the oak shelf, curled ornately at the top, a frilly doily draped across it. He peered inside at the miniature figurines inside, these more sensual than the idyllic ones in the living room. Two figures lay on their side, tangled in a heated embrace. Another set depicted a couple, engaged in the act of undressing each other. A book stood proudly on the top shelf, clearly thumbed through, a leather Kamasutra. Homelander raised a brow, but moved on, lifting the shelf, listening to the anxious racket of her heart as she watched him, eyes wide.

Leaning down, Homelander felt all the air escape his body in a sharp exhale as he took in the scene before him, kneeling to peer at eye level. Behind him, the woman tried to muffle the sound of her tears.

She'd built a shrine to him.

Homelander looked closely, plucking the small booklet of articles she'd handbound imperfectly, feeling the ripples of the leather cover. He thought back to their coffee date, and his heart seized. She'd wanted to tell him, all along. 

Flipping through, his heart racing, he saw every gesture, every kiss, every moment she'd professed her devotion... all proven to be true. The first article was dated to 2012. He'd been 24, young, lost. Alone, with Mirror John as his only confidant. He'd left the Bad Room behind, left Vogelbaum behind... but the emptiness still lingered. Vought had just proposed the idea of a league of heroes, and he'd been excited - only to have it all dashed upon meeting them. His lip curled at the memory.

But she'd been watching... saving these moments, revisiting them, this whole time. He looked up, saw the jar of what could only be gum that he'd chewed, and felt a sense of wholeness so complete that it nearly rocked him. He rose to his feet, resolute, and turned to face her.

Tears rolled down her face, the apples of her cheeks hot as she tried her best to keep from crying out. Homelander closed the distance between them, and held her in his arms, lifted them off the ground, and onto the bed, the duvet whispering against her back. He looked down at her, the coldness that had lurked before cracking open, revealing the breaking of dawn in his eyes.

 "You don't ever... have to hide from me," he whispered. "You will never... be too much for me." And leaning down again, he took her into a kiss, melding into her once more.

In the haze of their tearful union the couple kissed, the salt of her tears lingering on his tongue, the shuddering of his breaths rocking her body. Above them, Vought's hidden camera watched on, nestled securely in the corner of her ceiling, beneath the drywall.

[sariahsue]

Let Me Count the Ways

Chapter Five - Acceptance

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4]

One of Chat Noir's favorite things about being a superhero was helping people. Sometimes it was big ways, like stopping a rampaging dragon or saving hundreds of lives at once. Sometimes it was small ways, like posing for a picture with someone who looked down or helping retrieve a soccer ball that had gotten kicked over a fence.

His other favorite thing was hanging out with Ladybug. For obvious reasons.

It was always a special treat when he got to do both (especially when he wasn't getting pelted by magical golf balls or falling victim to mind control yet again or jumping into a monster's mouth or whatever). Tonight, they were volunteering at a nursing home, reading stories and playing board games with the residents. He loved listening to them talk about what their childhoods and teenage years had been like. He loved making them laugh with his silly jokes.

Everything seemed right with the world. He was surrounded by happiness. He flicked his gaze over to Ladybug, who sat between two women on a pink sofa. A photo album was open on her lap, and the women were pointing and smiling. But Ladybug's eyes were on him, expression unbelievably soft as she watched him.

He'd never seen her look at him like that before. It made him feel gooey and giddy, and he waved to her like the dorkasaurus that he was. The gentle giggle he heard right afterward was worth potentially embarrassing himself in front of his new friends, though.

When it was time to leave, neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir were ready to part ways. The sun had long since set, but the night was still young, and the air was fresh and brisk.

"You look like you feel better," he said as they sat on one of the many benches of the Jardin du Palais Royal. Water from the fountain splashed somewhere behind them. The rows of trees and beds full of flowers surrounding them rustled quietly in the breeze. One benefit of being superheroes that they didn't use much was the ability to sneak into places like this after they had closed. It was wonderful to have the garden all to themselves.

"Better?" Ladybug asked.

"I don't think I've heard you stutterall week. Did your… problem clear up?"

"Oh." Ladybug tucked her hair behind her ear and studied her knees. "Yeah, I guess it's not really an issue anymore."

Chat Noir was about to congratulate himself for being such a good partner who helped her through a stressful time when she added, "I kind of just accepted it."

He frowned. "That's bad. If something's bothering you, you can't give up–"

"No, it's fine." She waved her hand. "I don't want to fight it anymore." She sighed.

That didn't sound fine, but he couldn't really argue if he didn't know anything about it. "So, if it's not a problem anymore, can you tell me now? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"You're easier to talk to than anyone else I know, but I– I don't think… think I could–" She waved at her mouth to show how tongue-tied she already was over it.

"I promise I won't judge if you stutter," he said. "It's okay if you're upset when you talk. I don't mind."

The air stilled as she thought about her answer. The scent of flowers was heavy around them. "Not upset exactly, but maybe… It's–" She floundered for the right words, and Chat Noir waited patiently. "Um, without specifics." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "A boy."

All his breath left him in a rush. "Oh." This was about the boy that she'd had a crush on for years. The one who was too dumb to notice her. She hadn't mentioned him in ages. Was he causing problems for her again? Was that where the stuttering had come from?

"Yeah, a boy," she said. "It's just… would you say it's really difficult to hold onto hope after no reciprocation for so long?"

He shrugged noncommittally. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he was still crazy about her. It was the perfect opportunity. But he didn't think it wouldn't be particularly appreciated in the middle of her trying to explain her feelings for someone else. "I guess it is," he said, because his only hope was that it would be true for her and she was finally giving up on the other guy.

"Oh," she said sadly. "I thought so— I mean, I'd hoped, but…"

They were quiet for several moments. The water still gurgled softly. The moon was strong enough to cast shadows through the trees. Every time the wind blew, the shadows rippled and danced at their feet.

Ladybug finally spoke again. "How easy do you think it would be to… light that candle again?"

Chat Noir's cat ears perked up, then flattened again immediately. That sounded like she already had given up on the other guy, but that she also wanted to rekindle the feelings for some reason. "Why are you asking me? Do you want to relight it?" Would it make you happy? he asked silently. Don't you think you could be happy with me instead?

"I want your opinion," she said simply.

Something wasn't right with this discussion. He couldn't imagine why she would want to hear what he had to say about this. All he wanted to do was tell her to give up on her unrequited love forever, so he said, "I don't think candles can be relit."

Ladybug leaned forward and away from him, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

She looked utterly defeated.

Why did it even matter what he thought? He was not following the thread of this discussion. At all. "Why do you want to relight your candle anyway?"

"My candle?" she asked, sitting up again. Her deep frown relaxed and her face cleared. "My friends are right. Boys are really bad at subtext."

"What conversation are we having?"

Ladybug hummed, resting on her knees again, but this time smiling up at him. "You're really cute when you're confused."

She wasn't making any sense, and her comment was more tease than compliment. He stood and backed up for a better view of her. Maybe if he had the right – he didn't know, perspective – then it would suddenly make sense. "Couldn't you just be direct?"

She sat up slowly, eyes searching him, and she suddenly looked as uncertain as he felt. "After this discussion, I don't think I'd like your response if I tried." She got up and walked past him, out from under the trees and toward the water fountain. Cold moonlight danced along the pool's surface.

Chat Noir followed her as she sat down on the lip of the fountain. "Sorry," he said, not sure what he was exactly apologizing for.

"It's okay. I knew at the beginning I'd have to figure out a plan. It was silly to hope that I could have it this easily. It's been a long time. I wish I knew how to make…"

Without the trees providing shelter, the wind was more cold and cutting. Ladybug slid closer to him for warmth and rested her head on his shoulder.

Zmmmm. Chat Noir's brain buzzed, her touch quickly drowning out worries about what clues he was missing and his list of strange things she'd been doing. Her hand slipped up his forearm and around his elbow to link their arms together. It was only natural for his head to fall gently on top of hers after that. If she kept it up, he was likely to start purring. He already felt like he was melting into her side.

"I got it," she announced, thankfully not moving from her spot. "I know what to do."

"That's good," he breathed. "Congratulations." Her hair smelled really nice. Bread and shampoo and something that was all her.

He never wanted her to move.

But eventually she had to.

"It's getting late," she said, leaning away and standing up a long while later.

He stood up too, inescapably drawn to her.

The water gurgled as they stared at each other, before Ladybug pushed herself up to her toes and laid a gentle kiss on his right cheek, and then his left.

Chat Noir's brain started going fuzzy again.

"Thank you," she said.

"For…?" he asked, watching the way her mouth formed the words, before remembering that they were just friends and she was probably in love with someone else, and training his gaze somewhere less enticing. Like the grass growing between the gaps in the cobblestone behind her.

"For being so supportive. For always helping me." She grabbed his hands, content to let them hang together in between them. "I love spending time with you. You're wonderful."

He nodded. His heart was full and his mouth felt tingly, and he was sure if he tried to speak, the words would come out all wrong. How could she still do that to him without even trying?

"Until next time?" She gave his hands a quick squeeze before dropping them. "Bye!" She threw her yoyo and was gone.

His empty hands twitched limply. "Bye, Lovebug."

---

A/N: And now the real fun begins.

Tag list: @clawsout83 @trippingovermyfeet @tbehartoo

[unsaidcurses]

can you please write smth with reader comforting marcus and being his support system after todays shit show.

i rly need it, i just want to forget todays race happened 😭😭😭

you don't have to go through this alone// m.a.

summary: marcus needs some comforting after monza and you're there to be his support system

pairing: marcus armstrong × reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warning: angst, graphic description of a breakdown, monza weekend (it's a tw itself basically), tiny bit of cursing 

a/n: i swear he's cursed or it doesn't make sense + probably he can pass the curse because tumblr deleted half of this and I had to rewrite :D anyways, is this more dramatic and cheesy than it should have? yes do i care? not particularly

the “delete” button doesn’t exist in real life, right? because if it did, you would certainly have pressed it by now, for marcus’ sake.

it was monza weekend and you accompanied marcus. thank god you did because it had been a real shit couple of races for him, and just the thought of leave him alone dealing with them destroyed you.

he qualified pretty well, to be honest, ending p3, which meant he would start in decent positions both in the sprint and feature race.

it looked so good on friday, you were confident about it.

saturday came and the sprint race with it. you were watching in from the motorhome, nervousness eating you alive as you looked at him overtaking some cars. nothing too bad happened. but then the last three laps arrived and when jack and liam started pushing him for sixth place, marcus had little choice but to skip across the run-off area, keeping his position. you didn’t think much of it, since your main concern was to see him on the track and not in the wall, and you just continued watching the cars speeding around.

when he crossed the line, you were content and satisfied. he finished p6 gaining one position from where he started, which meant a couple of point to bring home. at some point you heard the commentators saying that someone got a 5 second penalty, therefore out of curiosity you asked a mechanics who got it, and your face dropped hearing his answer.

“it’s marcus. he went off track and gained advantage. 5 seconds will bring him back to tenth.”

you tried to rub off your sad expression when you saw him coming closer to the garage. you didn't know if he was aware of the penalty and you didn't want to worry or scary him off in case nobody told him yet.

you kept your eyes on him all the time, from when he spoke to his race engineer, who you assumed announced him what happened, to when he went patting every mechanics’ shoulders murmuring small apologies for his mistake. after he was done, he made his way towards the back of the motorhome, close to his driver room, where he knew you always awaited him.

he stood there in front of you with a disappointed expression on his face. the only thing you thought of doing in that moment was to circle his body with your arms, trying to comfort him a bit, to which he responded just with sliding one hand on the small of your back. it made you frown: he never hugged you like that, if you can even call that a hug.

“hey, hug me properly. you love my hugs.” you tried to cheer him up, looking up at him when you noticed how his eyes were fixed on the floor.

“i don’t love when i finish out of the points though.” the remark came out with a serious tone you hardly ever heard him use. you were almost scared that the usual “make jokes to lighten up the mood” wouldn’t work as it commonly did, so you gave one last try.

“and your hatred for bad races is bigger than your love for my hugs? is it so debilitating?”

“mh, i don’t know let me check.” he placed both arms around your shoulders, gently stroking them. although you couldn't see each other's faces, his action put a smile on both of them.

“i guess i love you a bit more.” he chuckled. you were glad he still had some optimism, after all the next day he would have a huge opportunity starting from second row.

“why don’t you go shower and then we can celebrate with felipe and have some fun?” you hinted at the championship winner, bringing marcus in his room by pulling his hand.

“of course, i’ll be back in a flash.”

-

sunday morning was a repeat of the previous day. in hitch's garage, watching your boyfriend's car race with headphones on, but starting from third today.

you were hopeful. marcus was determined to fight for the podium today, if not even for a win. he wanted to prove himself after the two awful years he had in f2 that he was meant to be there, that he was fast and talented, just extremely unlucky. you perfectly knew it was not an easy game, considering the two drivers who pressured him from the back yesterday were in front of him today, but a huge smile appeared on your face as you see jack in pole struggling when the lights went off, allowing the new zealander to overtake him on the inside.

not even five seconds since the race started and marcus was already in second place, not bad right? wrong. 

six laps later, felipe passed marcus right before a huge incident that caused the deployment of a safety car. he slipped into third again, but regained the position as soon as the track was clear.

after a couple of laps, another incident took place and similarly as before, it resulted in a safety car.

hitech wasn’t particularly famous for making the most efficient pit stops on the grid, especially when it came to marcus’ car, so you hoped they didn’t mess up everything when you saw a silver car pulling in the pit lane. little did you know you didn’t have to worry about the pit itself, but about the way he got in. everything happened too fast, you didn’t understand if the engineer called him late or if he didn’t brake in time, the point is that the boy entered beyond the entry bollard, which caused him a ten second stop and go penalty.

you pulled your hands to your mouth in disbelief. each time he qualified high enough to compete for big points, something had to happen. It’s not like you wish anything bad to any driver, but sometimes the question “why always him?” passed through your mind. did he do something horrible in his past life to deserve this? was he a serial killer? judas? it’s not possible he was so unfortunate all the time with no explanation.

seeing his car getting on track, you didn't have time to rationalize your last thought as a red graphic with his car's number appeared on the screen.

another stop and go penalty for speeding in the pit lane.

“you can’t be real!” you couldn’t contain your shout, removing the headphone from your head and walking away from your spot. it’s absurd to throw away a race in less than 500 meters, yet it happened and clearly marcus was the victim, who else otherwise?

you were disappointed, as the whole garage was, after all, but you knew that none of that compared to what marcus was feeling, and you felt the world breaking in your hands realizing how devastating that could be. he was so positive that morning, only to get it snatched from his hands.

continuing watching the race was so painful, looking at him trying to gain as much ground as he could, but with his gap, you could consider that a wild-goose chase. the only thing that prevented him from being last was liam, who lost a lot of time after being hit by juri.

the race felt interminable, but eventually the checked flag brought an end to this disaster. marcus rushed out of the car, did the bare minimum he had to do publicly without even removing his helmet, like weighting himself and giving an apology to the team, and then left for his room basically running

“marcus, it’s me, can i come in?” you walked to the door and knocked on it, waiting for an answer that never came. you stood there some seconds and tried to lower the handle and then you realized: he locked himself in. you acknowledged the fact that he didn’t want to see, nor be seen from anybody, not even you, which explains why he purposely avoided the side of the garage where you usually were.

so you just waited there, with your forehead resting on the cold material of the door, counting minutes passing and watching all the mechanics moving around and leaving.

you heard a faint click, but at first it didn’t sink it was the key on the other side twisting in the lock. it did only when the solid object that was sustaining you wasn’t anymore, and you almost fell on the ground. you looked up to your boyfriend who had a blank expression on his face.

“can we go get lunch? i’m exhausted, i just want to eat and go to our room.” you wanted to check up on him and ask him if he was okay but he beat you to it by talking first. his face shifted to a pleading look, so you did not insist and just nodded as you walked toward the restaurant he found the other day in front of the hospitality.

not a word left marcus’ mouth during the meal. he didn’t even order, he just mumbled “the same” after you asked the waiter some dishes. some of his friends were with you and he didn’t laugh at their jokes, sometimes he smiled slightly but nothing more.

you slid your hand on his thigh, his eyes left his plate to meet yours and softened immediately, then he moved and placed his head on your shoulder. seeing him like this made you feel so powerless, you at least hoped that the contact could give him some comfort.

the lunch carried on and shortly after he finished his dishes, marcus tugged at your hand still on his leg as an indication to leave, therefore you said goodbye to everybody and headed to your hotel room.

as soon as he entered the room, the driver laid down on the bed. you observed him from the main door with his back turned to you, curling up with his legs close to his chest as to shield his body from all the thing that happened to him in the previous hours and shut them out of his existence.

your heart clenched at the sight. you didn’t know what to do, how to act. looking at the person you love knowing that they’re hurt, that their world is crumbling under their feet and not being able to stop it and protect them, it’s a nightmare.

you stepped closer to the bed and sat on the edge, brushing his hair with your hand in a soothing way.

“are you sure you don’t want to talk about the race?” the question came out as a whisper, not wanting to break the bubble you were in even more than you already did by just talking.

“what do I have to say about it? It was a shit show!” he answered turning briefly towards you, showing his defeated look, returning to his original position after finishing the sentence with an harsh tone. “and we can’t change how things went, it’s useless wasting time on it. just drop it, okay?”

“marcus-“ you called him passing on the other side of the bed to look at his face. “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

this was the last straw of keeping it together. he didn’t want to complain or bother you but when he realized you just wanted him to decompress and share his thoughts with you, he finally opened up.

"i'm tired of putting so much effort in this sport and always being walked all over. when i have the pace, i don’t have a good pit stop. when i have a good pit stop, i don’t have the qualification. and when i have the qualification, i mess up everything anyway!” he ranted sitting up. his hands were moving in the air and his eyes were darting in every direction.

“the fda dropped me, and i will lose my seat in formula 2 the end of the year.” listening him reviewing every single bad event he went through was a stab in the heart, and you really wanted to stop him and disagree with him, but he was unravelling everything he bottled up not only for months but probably years at this point, so you waited in silence listening to him.

“i left home when i was a fucking kid, i didn’t see my siblings grow up, i gave up time with my family, i give up time with you!" his voice progressively increased, breaking at the end of it.

“all of these sacrifices to just get a slap in the face."

he almost started rambling again, but it was clear he couldn't continue. his head fell in his hands, and hot tears escaped his eyes. he didn’t even have the strength to try to stop it, he just let everything go.

you immediately pulled him as close as humanly possible, his head naturally went in the crook of your neck, muffling some of the sobs of despair that left his parted lips. you hold him tight, as a way to tell him that you were there and he was not alone.

imagine how long and how much he held off to explode like this, to end in such an agonizing cry. with a lump in your throat, you whispered sweet nothings to his ear, hoping it would calm him down, and with some swinging back and forth, it did. after a good amount of time, his breath steadied, except for some hiccups sometimes. 

there weren’t big words of comfort you could offer him, after unfolding years of frustration and disappointment. you just wanted to make him realize that the majority of the things he said were none of his fault and that he deserved his place. 

“i’m so sorry you have to deal with all of this. I wish I had a magic wand to make all of this go away,” you let your hand wander through his hair, moving his head to look him in eyes. you meant every word, and you wanted to be sure he understood that. “but I do have time to listen. always. please don’t ever keep all of this to yourself, okay? you’re my boyfriend and best friend, helping you in any way I can is my top priority. we go through things together, and will work them out.”

the grey eyes turned teary once more, but from happiness this time. your words made him feel so supported and loved, he couldn’t find a better way to show you his gratitude than hugging you back, holding on to dear life, with your legs tangled together.

minutes passed and you slowly moved backwards, till you completely laid down on the mattress, marcus using your chest as a pillow while being wrapped safely around your arms as if you were the only thing who could protect him from all the atrocities the world may hold.

“i’m booking a flight for christchurch, okay? we can’t do much about the past, but you have ten free weeks ahead before the next race. spending some time with your family surely won’t hurt.” after meditating about how you could actively help him, you broke the silence.

“are you coming too, right?” he asked in a tiny voice, doubting you would let him down like the whole feeder series world did.

“of course, if you want me to.” you pulled the blanket over your bodies. “why don’t you rest a bit now, mh? you really need and deserve that.”

you felt him nodding subtly, a small yawn following. it wasn’t just for the play when he said he was exhausted, at the end of the day he still had an eventful feature race in the morning.

as you glanced at his face while caressing it continuously, you were met with a peaceful expression, finally. you let your cheek fall on the top of his head, letting your body relax at the thought of him sleeping.

except for the fact that he was still awake.

“thank you. for being my support system and choosing to be by my side every day. I couldn’t ask for anything better honestly. I love you.” 

it was unusual for him to make this kind of confessions, wearing his heart on his sleeves, spilling what he felt deeply, but if he didn’t say it today, when was he supposed to?

“i love you too marcus. dearly.”

and with that you both doze off, with the awareness that you were there for each other no matter what, through thick and thin, whatever your lives offered you.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Chosen (Park Seonghwa) Rated

Pairing: Creature! Park Seonghwa × Human! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Sci-Fi/Fantasy AU.

Summary: Symbolizing purity, innocence, and daintiness, the Daughters of Aster had been hand-picked since a young age to be brought up and raised for a very special task: to carry the offspring of the nobility in the kingdom, which just so happens to consist of cold-blooded humanoid creatures. And now that she's become of age, it's Y/N's turn to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Tentai content including tentacle bondage, tentacle sucking, breast play, suction play, breeding kink, penetration with tentacles, multiple orgasms, semi voyeurism, reader is a virgin and Seonghwa is whipped for her, mentions of eggs, and stomach bulges. (It's my first time writing actual tentacle smut so I apologize if it sucks.)

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Gulping harshly as she pressed a hand to open the large, metal gate that guarded the huge mansion, the young woman hesitantly stepped inside the spacious and grim-looking garden. Underestimating the weight of the gate, she softly jolted back when it suddenly slipped out of her grasp and clashed back into place. She winced momentarily when the loud noise seemed to resonate, spooking several of the small critters and ravens that roamed around the small terrain. Glancing back, she half expected an old groundskeeper to swoop out of one of the trees and chastise her reckless behavior. But nothing surrounded the area except the foliage, trees, and rose bushes that added to the beauty of the grand estate.

Gathering back her courage, the quaint young woman took slow and careful steps across the small dirt path that led straight to the front stairs of the mansion. It was a somewhat terrifying architectural design, reminiscent of the old gothic-styled cathedrals from ancient times, not at all fashioned after the pompous and outlandish French designs most of the other members of the aristocracy preferred. The gray stone walls made the place seem cold and distant, the hardly lit windows signaled that it was probably rarely inhabited, and the black ravens perched on the top of the sculpted angel monuments lined up through the staircase only made the sensation feel more haunting and chilly.

Finally, in front of the main entrance, she hesitated as her fingers brushed along the round metal door handle. She felt frozen with fear as she realized there was no returning after all. This was the moment she had been prepared for her entire life. In a few moments, she was about to meet.....

Her master.

Just that thought sent shivers down her spine. She did not wish to ponder too much on the various horror stories she often heard back in the institute, nor imagine what kind of life she would live now as a surrogate to one of...their kind.

In the very moment she lifted her hand once again, she took a jerked back when the door seemingly opened by itself, a young maid looking surprised to see her standing there. Upon inspecting her attire and recognizing the crest that held her dark blue cloak in place, the maid's expression beamed with joy.

"Oh! You must be Miss Y/N correct?"

Nodding her head and affirming it was indeed she, Y/N felt puzzled when the tiny maid practically yanked her inside, albeit not intended to harm her, she simply seemed excited about her presence, which frankly made no sense to her. It was not as if surrogates were treated with kindness let alone respect. When her hands reached up towards her neck, the young woman was quick to stop her.

"Oh please! Let me do that for you."

Although she was not particularly fond of people coming up so close in her personal space, she maintained a calm demeanor whilst the maid removed the long cloak off her frame, delicate hands folding it perfectly and tucking it under her arm.

"I'll have this cleaned and ironed out for you Miss before taking it back to your room. You must be famished after coming here after such a long journey." She paused briefly and examined Y/N's complexion, which seemed rather pale and depleted, making her pout rather sadly at the state their new guest was in.

"If you would like, I can ask the cook to prepare a meal for you. Do tell, what is your favorite dish?"

Y/N waved a dismissive hand at the kind lady's offer.

"Please, do not trouble yourself. I am not the least bit hungry." Indeed, it was not a lie. She was overly anxious and uneasy that she did not believe it to be possible to even fathom stomaching any sort of sustenance at that moment.

"If you do not mind and if it is allowed... I would much prefer to retire for the evening." Y/N humbly requested.

Nodding with the understanding that the new company was weary, the young maid took hold of a golden bell tied around her waist and proceeded to ring it moderately. In mere seconds, a tall sharply dressed gentleman came up and bowed towards her.

"Cedric would you please escort Miss Y/N to her room?"

Gesturing for her to follow, the butler guided her up the flight of stairs into the second story of the house. Passing through a long corridor, Y/N glanced now and then at the outside patio through the windows that overlooked the gardens. They were much larger than what she initially thought, and the longer she looked, the denser the trees seemed to appear. She was so distracted by the scenery that she nearly collided face-first into the poor butler's back had he not spoken up first and made her steps come into a screeching halt.

"This will be your room from now on miss." Producing a string of keys out of his pocket, Cedric unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, stepping inside to make room for Y/N to pass.

Her breath was nearly taken away by the sheer size of the room. It was double the size of the old living space she used to share with 6 other girls back in the institute and was furnished with more than what she'd ever need. The decor too seemed like something more befitting for someone of the family than for someone of her station.

"If there is anything the matter with the decor or should you prefer a different pattern, you may simply speak the word and the Master shall arrange for the room to be modified as you like."

At the mention of the Master, Y/N felt that nerve-racking tingle travels down her body once again.

"Shall you need any assistance, please feel free to ring the bell attached by your bed and one of us will be more than happy to aid you?" Reaching for the door handle, Cedric bid her good night before closing the door to leave her to her thoughts.

Still feeling cold from the long walk, Y/N stepped closer to the fireplace, outstretching her hands in hopes of warming them up. She was grateful that although not expecting her early, they had prepared a nice fire to warm up her room. After getting filled with the heat, Y/N went over to one of the dressers so that she could change into her night attire. Upon opening the many drawers, she was shocked at not finding any of her old clothes, instead, there was an abundance of luxurious clothing which she did not recognize. Storming over to the large wardrobe, she too found that none of her personal belongings had been delivered, they seemed to have all been replaced with new apparel. Knowing that she had no choice, she went back to the first dresser that she had looked in before and rummaged through to find the plainest and simple nightgown she could find. Reaching for the row of buttons training down the middle of her blouse, she undid them one by one with utter care before slipping it off her body, letting the garment fall on the floor. Running the zipper down, her long and flowing skirt joined her blouse, one foot delicately kicking them away for the time being. Standing there in nothing but her undergarments made Y/N suddenly feel apprehensive. She carefully looked around the room again, feeling the strange sensation that someone was watching her. Shaking that thought out of her head, she quickly threw the nightgown over her head and finished dressing. The fabric was soft to the touch and it didn't scratch against her delicate skin, but the most surprising factor was that it fit like a glove on her body. It made her wonder if perhaps they had prepared it in advance or it was merely a coincidence.

Picking up her discarded clothes, she neatly placed them on the table near her, slightly folding them and smoothing them over. Going over to the bed, she pulled back the covers before sliding her body onto the mattress and covering herself. She couldn't help the small blissful sigh coming out of her mouth as her sore limbs welcomed the soft and comfortable bed, the pillow feeling like a fluffy cloud. As she laid there, she began to reminisce about all the events that led up to that very moment, or more specifically, that very morning during the Auctioning.

Hearing the loud applause coming from the other end of the room, Y/N tried to calm her nerves, knowing she was the next one in line to face the crowd. As soon as she took one step forward, she was stopped by none other than the Head of the Institute, who took hold of her wrist and looked at the girl behind her.

"Abigail, you go next. Y/N, you're coming with me."

Without so much as a further explanation, Y/N found herself dragged away from the waiting room where her fellow inmates also looked at each other in confusion at the sudden interruption. Y/N wanted to speak up and ask what was happening, was she not to be auctioned off to one of the many noble families? The old woman of course knew all the questions Y/N had, but she didn't say a word until they were outside in the front of the building, where there was a carriage awaiting her.

"Your personal belongings have already been sent out to your new home. We've received word to have you delivered as soon as possible." Even with that brief explanation, Y/N still didn't understand anything. Noticing her distressed state, the Headmistress sighed softly.

"Y/N, you are not to be auctioned off like the rest of the girls. Someone has already purchased you many months back, but it seems they accidentally forgot it and thus added you to the lineup. Luckily, I managed to find you before you stood up on that platform. Certainly avoided a disaster." The old woman chuckled, yet that did not relieve Y/N's worries.

What did she mean someone had already bought her? Who were they? Where was she sold off to?

Unfortunately, none of those questions were answered, instead, she found herself being pushed inside the carriage and speedily taken away to an unfamiliar side of the country that she had never seen before, away to who knew where until she ended up right in the place she was currently in.

Drowsy and tear-filled eyes eventually closed even whilst remembering the events of the day. Y/N knew she was more than likely lucid dreaming as she slowly drifted off to sleep. She didn't feel fully unaware of her surroundings though, and perhaps it was that skeptical feeling that kept her on edge and guarded against anything around her. It especially came into help when she seemingly felt something stroke her cheek, gliding down to caress the outline of her jaw. At first, she believed it was nothing more than her imagination, but when she felt a thumb running across her bottom lip, she opened her eyes, screaming and sitting up when she saw a dark figure standing right in front of her. He was started himself by her outburst, immediately retracting his hand when he witnessed how agitated his innocent act had made her.

"I'm sorry..... I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was soothing and low, clearly intended so that she'd calm down.

"Would you mind if I..." His gesture indicated that he wanted permission to come near her again, which she felt like she had no choice but to give.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the handsome stranger reached out and cupped the sides of her face, moving it slowly to the left and then towards the right, eyes drinking up every detail of her countenance.

"My God, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you tending to the gardens in that place."

Hearing those words made Y/N widen her eyes. How did he know about that? Unless...

"Are... Are you my new master?" She couldn't even believe it.

The young man giggled softly.

"If you don't mind, I would much rather prefer if you called me by my name, Seonghwa." He introduced himself. Y/N briefly nodded, but obviously, it wasn't enough for him as he leaned in close, nose nearly bumping into her own.

"Please say it." He urged her to.

"Seonghwa." She breathed out his name, to which he let out a gentle smile as one of his hands moved to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

"Once again, I apologize for startling you, my dear. I just got impatient and couldn't resist myself. I just had to see you." He confessed before getting up out of her space.

"You must be tired so I'll leave you be now. Get some rest love and I'll see you in the morning."

Y/N expected him to walk towards the same door she had come inside from, but she looked with astonishment as Seonghwa went over towards another door which she had mistakenly assumed to be her bathroom, and opened it up.

"My room adjoins to yours, so if you ever want to come and see me, I'm just a knock away." He fought hard to not laugh at her flustered expression, whispering out another good night before retreating into his chambers.

Y/N released a breath she didn't know she was holding. So far her new master looked...normal? Nothing at all like what she expected from the many tales that roamed back at the institute. Seonghwa was nothing that she expected, exceptionally beautiful, poised, kind, and gallant. But she knew she could not be fooled by his charming manners, after all, none of the members of the aristocracy were actual humans...

And it was only a matter of time before she figured out what sort of monster Seonghwa was.

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Y/N tried to steady her heartbeat as Seonghwa drew closer to her, lips brushing against her own. Although this was the exact moment she had been prepared all her life for, she still felt a tinge of nervousness as she felt Seonghwa's hands clasp around her waist, his body, which was all bare save for the briefs between his thighs, pressing against her own.

"Tell me, my dear has anyone ever kissed you before?" He smiled when she shook her head.

"May I kiss you?" His inquiry sounded so sweet and pure that Y/N didn't think twice about lifting her face and closing her eyes.

Seonghwa's lips were soft, reminding her of the soft petals belonging to the different roses in the gardens outside, precious little buds that she had been granted permission to take care of in the month she had been living with him. He had never once denied her anything and had been very attentive to her every need. And now as he tenderly kissed her, pouring his heart into the loving kiss, Y/N wondered if this is what love felt like, that foreign emotion that she'd often hear spoken about yet always been told it would never be something she or any of the other girls at the Institute would ever experience. She didn't know, but she knew that she enjoyed whatever this was, this feeling of Seonghwa's lips closing over hers, only to pull away and then dive back in, each minute that passed enabling his kissing to become more ardent and passionate. It was truly breathtaking for her, as she'd often find herself gasping for air each time his lips would pull apart from her mouth.

Starting at the corners of her lips, Seonghwa began pressing butterfly kisses down towards her jaw. Y/N's breath hitched, neck tilting back when she felt him nibbling against her skin. It seemed as if he knew exactly where to direct his attention towards, her sharp breaths an indication that she was warming up to his touches. Releasing one hand off her face, he moved it down until his fingers brushed against her collarbone, treading dangerously close to her covered bosoms.

"Now tell me, love has anyone ever touched you here?"

As if on instinct, Y/N arched her back towards his palms when they lightly squeezed at her pillowy mounds, a light, and embarrassed moan being uttered by her for the first time in her life.

"N-no, no one's ever touched me there." Her shy confession made him smirk as he then dropped his hand down to lift her flimsy nightgown.

"What about here? Has anyone touched here?"

Cupping her sex, he found it warm and inviting, his body aching to be inside of her, to fill her up and breed her as he wanted to. He didn't need her to answer, just her mouth going agape and emitting the cutest whimpers he had ever heard was enough of an answer.

"No of course not. You're pure and completely untouched by anyone else....." When she felt his fingers slide across her wettened folds, her hands reached out and gripped against his biceps, using them to keep herself steady as they continued exploring her deepest places. It felt so unusual yet wonderful to have Seonghwa pry open her lips, fingers ever so gradually slipping past her tightness to lodge inside her warm cavern. Once settled, they began moving, pulling themselves out before coming back in. To distract her, Seonghwa stooped down to kiss her once more, it felt more rushed than before, tongue occasionally poking outwards to scrape against the roof of her mouth. As his fingers worked hard to stretch her open and mouth busied in devouring her adorable whines, it was all to prepare her and get her to ease up before he continued with anything. Pulling away with a deep inhale, Seonghwa used his free thumb to wipe away the excess saliva on her bottom lip, breath ghosting over her own.

"Y/N... I'm going to need you to stay calm and not freak out. All right?"

By his tone, Y/N deduced that she was about to figure out just what exactly it was that made him different from her. She could feel him hesitate, looking just as scared as she did the first time she arrived at the estate. Just as she was about to assure him that she was not afraid, she felt something crawl up her legs, it was somewhat slimy and had a couple of ridges along the underside of it. Glancing down, she nearly fell back onto the bed when she witnessed two long tentacles wrapping themselves around her thighs, tearing up part of the silk fabric of her nightgown. Before she could stumble back, another tentacle launched out to wrap around her waist, pulling her forward to help her regain her balance. She breathed heavily, looking visibly shocked as she realized they were coming out of none other than Seonghwa himself. He scanned her face, trying to read her reactions. Scared? Disgusted? Apprehensive? It was rather difficult to make out exactly what she thought about his tendrils holding her steady and tightening around her body. Wanting to test something, he produced two more tentacles, these slightly thinner than the previous ones. They moved closer towards Y/N, who of course, instinctively recoiled from the unusual limbs.

"Don't worry. If I were in your position, I'd be utterly revolted as well." Although he spoke out those words with a dry smile, they held a lot of pain within them and it made Y/N saddened to hear him. Wanting to make up for it, she outstretched her hand towards the nearest tendril, the very limb slightly pulling away when it felt her come near. No doubt Seonghwa was hesitant about having her touch him. Undeterred, Y/N reached out once more, this time the tentacle didn't recoil but subtly leaned into her touch. Ever so slowly, it began to wrap around her arm, looping itself around her wrist, and settling itself on top of her palm. Y/N couldn't resist herself as she softly squeezed at the tender limb, thumb curiously playing around with the tiny suction cups along the underside of it. She couldn't help but giggle when it slightly slithered itself to attach some of the cups onto her palm, applying light pressure that had a rather pleasant feeling. So amused by the bizarre member, she didn't realize that the other thin tentacle had moved until she felt it loop itself on her other arm, the same as the one on her right side. Seonghwa felt relieved when she didn't seem afraid anymore, instead, she now smiled up towards him, fingers gently caressing the smooth surface of his tentacles. Unbeknownst to her, he could feel every touch ministered on them, the tentacles being a part of him, an extension of him. And they were highly sensitive to any sort of contact made with them.

"Can we...can we continue?" There was a slight quiver in his voice that did not go unnoticed by the woman held hostage by his slimy tendrils. Understanding exactly what he was referring to, Y/N nodded, eagerly awaiting to see just how Seonghwa would impregnate her.

Feeling herself lifted off the floor, the tentacles gently laid her down on the bed, detaching themselves momentarily off her body as they began poking around at the semi-ruined fabric of her attire. Grasping at several ends, Y/N gasped astonishingly when they tore off the rest of her dress, discarding the remaining pieces on the floor. Laying there completely naked in front of Seonghwa, who did not hide anything in his stare as they raked her entire body. Feeling self-conscious, Y/N moved to cover herself but the tentacles were faster as they wrapped around her wrists and ankles, holding the first ones above her face while the other ones kept her legs apart, allowing Seonghwa to fully gawk at her wetness. The thought of burying himself deep in her and breeding her made him uncontrollably hard.

Y/N squirmed as several more tentacles sprouted out of Seonghwa's body, making her question just how many he could produce. Two medium-sized ones traveled up her sternum, oozing out some sort of secretion that trickled onto her breasts. The tentacles then latched themselves onto her perky mounds, twisting and pulling at her nipples until they hardened and poked out. They continued to toy around with her boobs, flicking against her sensitive nubs now and then before going back to clamp down and attach their suction cups to her tender skin. Y/N shuddered as she felt them slightly vibrate, adding to the daze-inducing state she was drifting off to.

Just as she was distracted in enjoying the pleasure the two tentacles were giving her, she let out a shriek when she felt another slimy organ come up and flit at her clit. The tentacles around her ankles kept her from closing her thighs, leaving her with no choice but to succumb to the movements made in her delicate button. It felt so surreal, so extraordinary, and she writhed around on the bed as much as she was able to when the tiny end of the tentacle sped up and rubbed faster against her swelling clit, the delicious friction making her mouth water. She wondered if this was the bliss some of the girls back home talked about, the ones who had gone out of their way to break the solemn vow they swore about remaining intact and pure, forcing them out of the Institute as they were no longer considered valuable vessels for future buyers.

"If this is what they enjoyed then, I would have gladly broken my vow too." Y/N mused to herself. But then she remembered had she broken her vow she would have never been able to meet Seonghwa, and she'd grown attached to him in that short period of meeting him.

"No... It's better this way. Having saved my body just for him so he can use it as he pleases. Have me carry his children. Oh, God." She felt herself clench around nothing as she thought about being stuffed by him, carrying his babies. Months before, the idea of carrying the offspring of some humanoid stranger horrified her. Now, it thrilled her and she looked forward to it.

"I'm going to slide a few more inside of you now, ok? It might feel uncomfortable, but I promise I'll make sure you don't feel any pain." Y/N vigorously nodded, the tentacles around her ankles spreading her legs further and bringing them up so her knees were bent.

Two thinner tentacles, even thinner than the ones around her wrists came out and began probing around her hole, stretching it ever so slightly before sliding inside her. Y/N felt them scraping against her tender walls, leaving her flabbergasted at feeling them creep deeper and deeper against her right muscles, stopping once they reached her cervix. Ever so carefully, they position themselves at her opening, prying her cervix open. A dull sting shot up her body, not exactly painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant to feel. Noticing this, Seonghwa made the tentacles release their hold on her tight rim.

"Perhaps I might need to make use of this after all."

Y/N didn't know exactly what 'this' was, all she felt was the two tentacles lightly thrust inside of her, tips flicking up to tease at her sweet spot. And then she felt it, the tentacles oozed some sort of secretion to coat her inner walls, even moving to spread some of the liquid against the entrance of her womb. The tentacle working on her clit had to momentarily stop when Y/N began spasming, small gasps and moans spilling out her lips, not realizing that she had just had a subtle orgasm, but Seonghwa knew. He felt when her juices covered her walls, causing them to become more slick and wet, an effect produced by the natural pheromones his tentacles had just sprayed inside her, helping her to relax and not feel any more discomfort. Although it would also make her highly sensitive, meaning she would become a sticky and panting mess by the end of it, every stroke or brush inside her body would be heightened considerably. And Seonghwa was rather curious to see how that would play out.

Finally, a rather large and thick tentacle sprung out, heading directly towards her opening. It contracted itself as it skimmed past her entrance, flowing smoothly thanks to the previous tentacles that had worked Y/N's core open and the pheromones he had induced into her. At first, nothing seemed to happen, then Y/N's mouth flew open as she felt the tentacle start expanding, bottoming out inside of her, forcing her stretched-out muscles to widen even more. Unable to resist the urge, she looked down, nearly wheezing as she looked at the tightly nestled tentacle inside of her, pulsing inside her slick covered borders. Just those small pulsing vibrations had her throwing her head back as more liquids seeped out of her. Feeling her arousal coating its skin, it seemed to rile up the large tentacle as it began pushing itself further until it reached the entrance of her cervix.

"Usually humanoids of my kind would place as many eggs can fit inside their surrogate's womb... But I don't wish to overwhelm you with that, especially since it's your first time." With a smug grin, Seonghwa stooped forward and placed a hand on top of her abdomen.

"So let's just try it with two."

The large tentacle began contracting once more, wriggling around as if trying to get something out. Y/N soon felt what it was as a smooth, round, and semi-hard object began pushing itself inside of her. The two smaller tentacles, which were still lodged on the sides of her walls, went back to pry her cervix open, allowing the egg easier access as it traveled through her tunnel and nestling itself inside her womb. Seonghwa watched proudly as her belly swelled up as soon as the egg lodged itself in her, fingers brushing against the oval outline bulging out of her skin.

"So pretty, so beautiful." He praised her, teeth tugging down at his bottom lip as a hidden tentacle had come out to rid him of his last article of clothing, stroking his hardened cock generously, the suction cups paying close attention to his leaking head.

"How are you feeling so far love?" Seonghwa wanted to make sure she was fine before proceeding.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, soft pants spewing out her mouth.

"Please...more." That was all she could manage to mumble out.

Satisfied by her answer, the massive limb started wriggling once more, popping out another egg that scraped deliciously against the roof of her cave, journeying past her barriers and plopping next to the previous egg, joining it inside her womb. With slight embarrassment, Y/N cried out as another wave of pleasure poured out of her, hands wanting to cover her reddened face at the thought of so easily cumming by the mere thought of Seonghwa's eggs inside her while his tentacle continued throbbing inside her.

"Don't feel ashamed my love. I just so happen to enjoy watching your face contort with pleasure." His admittance only made her more sheepish and flustered.

"We're almost done, love. I just need to fertilize my eggs."

Y/N groaned loudly when the tentacle began moving, thrusting itself in and out, her previous juices seeping out every time it pulled out her body, creating a wet stain on the sheets underneath. Maybe it was her imagination, but Y/N swore she could feel the eggs move inside her, bouncing each time the tentacle pushed back inside her. The tendrils around her ankles and wrists tightened themselves, holding her steady as the tentacle started to plunge itself faster and deeper into her, twitching every so often, a sign it was getting ready to squirt into her womb.

Seonghwa was also enjoying the spectacle, watching closely as he was about to impregnate his darling surrogate, the tentacle wrapped around the shaft matching the movement the larger one was doing. He felt blessed to be able to feel both sensations at once, one being his cock stimulated while his tentacle had to endure Y/N's tightness clench unbearably around his slimy member. It was ecstasy for both of them, their grunts and moans echoing inside Seonghwa's room. Wanting her to experience the maximum pleasure he could offer, the tentacles laid out across her chest went back to their previous task of playing with her nipples, suckling on her tender flesh whilst the one between her legs toyed with her swollen clit. It was all so much for her that Y/N couldn't help it as her third orgasm of the night overtook her, this one more intense and prolonged by the endless amount of attention her body was receiving.

"Seonghwa!" She cried out, tears of over-stimulation brimming at the corners of her eyes.

Hearing her call out to him, Seonghwa himself hissed as the tentacle worked him over the edge, spurts of cum trickling down onto it as well as splattering onto the floor. The tentacle that was now coated with his cum moved towards Y/N's face, lightly tapping on her cheek. Turning to face it, she inhaled sharply and didn't hesitate to allow it to slide past her lips and wiggle inside her mouth. She moaned around the appendage, sucking on it, the sensations flowing back to Seonghwa's cock.

"Oh fuck." He exclaimed, the tentacle pushing itself on the back of her throat while the one between her legs rapidly moved to finish its final task.

Y/N's wailing was partially muffled by the tentacle stuffing her mouth, her body and mind spiraling out of control as she felt thick ropes of warm cum being gushed out of the tentacle and shooting straight into her womb. She could even feel her stomach swelling up even more by just the liquids being poured into her. It was enough to have her crying out once more, a state of euphoria clouding her mind as her 4th high shocked her senses, numbing everything except the feeling of the tentacles around and in her. Seonghwa himself didn't need further stimulation, cumming untouched for the second time when he finally finished breeding her, mouth drawing out long and labored breaths as he started to come down from his high.

Slowly, one by one the tentacles started pulling away from Y/N's body, disappearing back into Seonghwa's body. Both of them groaned deeply when the last tentacle pulled out of her agape hole, some of the leftover cum dribbling out onto the bed. Y/N felt so sore and so full, her hands reaching down to caress her now swollen stomach, surprised at how big it looked. She felt ready to pop at any moment. With utmost care, Seonghwa moved her further into the bed, helping her rest her head against one of the pillows and covering her up with the warm blanket. It wasn't long until she felt his body press up against hers, pulling her as close as was possible as one hand protectively wrapped around her belly.

"Thank you..."

She was so weary after that intense session that she could only mumble a barely audible 'huh?' at his words. Chuckling, Seonghwa pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Thank you for carrying my babies. You have no idea how happy I am at this moment."

She could only manage to give out a faint smile at his words, fastly falling asleep when she felt him hum a soft tune against her ear.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @deja-vux @brie02 @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @rainteez02 @harry-the-pottypus

[storiesforallfandoms]

can’t buy me ~ jimmy smith jr.;8 mile

word count: 1577

request?: yes!

@girl-toxxic "reader and Jimmy are in a relationship not long ago but Jimmy was always in love and they both live in the same place, ok but let's say that reader meets a new friend at work (she is a waitress or can be a babysitter for a rich girl) and this new friend has a lot of money and is very interested in reader and the reader get along well and this makes Jimmy insecure, since reader's friend gives him small gifts and helps him a lot. But you can add something that is more interesting as the boy confesses his feelings to the reader and she rejects him since Jimmy is her great love and he tells her how can she go out with that poor devil ... or something else interesting what occurs to you. And that this ends in a lot of love and smut, bah if you feel comfortable🤗💕💕"

description: in which her new friend keeps trying to make advances through gifts, but her heart belongs to one man

pairing: jimmy smith jr. x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I walked through the door and made a beeline for the kitchen to throw away yet another gift from my not so secret admirer. The last thing I needed was for Jimmy to see what Mark had give me and to get upset about it.

I worked as a waitress at a bar and grill down the road from mine and Jimmy’s house. The hours were only okay, but the tips more than made up for it, especially after our newest regular, Mark, started dining there and specifically asked to have me as his server whenever he was in.

Mark was in his late 30s, handsome, worked a good job that paid good money. He came in one night after he had a particularly hard shift. He sat at the bar, and it was the night I was working it, so I talked him through his rough day. Next thing I knew, he was coming back and asking for me again. We became friendly, but it took me a little too long to realize he wanted to be more than friends.

I turned the corner and yelped as I realized I wasn’t alone. Jimmy was leaning against the counter, almost like he was waiting for me.

“Hey babe,” I said. “I thought you were at the Shelter with Future tonight.”

His eyes flickered to the gift bag in my hand. “He wanted me to come home. We haven’t had a night together in months.”

“Doesn’t help that we both work late night jobs,” I tried to joke. The bag felt heavy in my hand as Jimmy kept looking at it.

“That rick prick buy you more useless shit?” he asked.

“Jimmy,” I sighed.

“Sorry, I forgot it was okay for some rich jackass to buy my girlfriend expensive gifts.”

He wouldn’t meet my eye. He kept glancing around the kitchen, every so often looking down at the bag in my hand. I dropped everything I was holding onto the floor, including that stupid gift, and raced over to hug him.

“Hey,” I said, softly, resting my head on his chest. “Hey, you know there’s nothing to this. It’s just a guy who doesn’t understand I’m not interested.”

“It’s a guy who has money.”

I lighted my head to look at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

I pulled away from him. “No, tell me.” When he didn’t speak, I took his chin in my hand and forced him to look at me. “Jimmy, do you think I’d leave you for someone who makes more money?”

“He’d be able to give you what you deserve,” he responded. “A house, a car, expensive gifts - ”

“We have a house,” I cut him off. “You have a car, and I don’t want expensive gifts. I don’t want materialistic things, I want happiness and love, and that’s what I get with you. You really have nothing to worry about in regards to Mark. You’re the one I’ll always want.”

Jimmy sighed and pulled me close. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll give you that reassurance any day.”

I leaned up to kiss him. He relaxed into the kiss and I leaned into him more.

When he pulled away, Jimmy turned to look at the forgotten present on the floor. “What did that asshole get you this time anyways?”

I picked up the bag and pulled out the box that was inside. Jimmy opened the box to reveal the gold necklace Mark had given me. The pendant was gold to match, and it was my initial.

“I was gonna chuck it when I got home,” I told him. It’s way too flashy for me, it wouldn’t match anything I own.”

“Don’t throw it out. This is, like, real gold. We can sell it for a good chunk of money.”

I smiled. “I like the way you think, Rabbit.”

~~~~~~

The next day, Jimmy had the night off from the Shelter so he drove me to work. He followed me into the bar and grill with the intentions of sitting at the bar for an hour or two before going home. One of my co-workers spotted us as we walked in and gave me a panicked look. I immediately knew what she was trying to tell me.

I saw Mark sat at the bar before he saw me. I was about to turn to Jimmy to warn him when Mark spotted me and rose from his seat. He had a wide smile on his face, until he saw Jimmy behind me.

“Two nights in a row, Mark?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Those wings and nachos are gonna start getting to you.”

“I went to the gym this morning, so it cancels out,” he responded. “Who’s this with you?”

“This is my boyfriend, Jimmy. I told you about him, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the...rapper,” Mark said. I didn’t miss the way he sneered the word “rapper”, and Jimmy didn’t either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mark shrugged. “Nothing. Just stating a fact that (Y/N) told me. Although, rapping at that rundown warehouse probably doesn’t pay as much as a real job would.”

Jimmy stepped towards Mark, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Hey, he’s not worth it. Just go home. Thank you for the ride.”

Jimmy glared at Mark before turning to walk away. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the situation seemed to defuse easily.

And then Matt spoke again, “Yeah, go back to the trailer park, white trash.”

Jimmy snapped and charged at Mark before I could stop him. He knocked Mark to the ground and reared up to hit him. I quickly grabbed his arm and pulled as hard as I could until Jimmy was off of Mark.

“Get out before security gets called,” I told him.

He got to his feet and walked out the door before anything else could happen. Mark was getting to his feet and adjusting his clothes. I was trying to calm myself down as I regarded him.

“Please leave, Mark.”

“Seriously? Your trailer trash boyfriend attacked me, but you’re kicking me out?”

“You provoked him.”

“I wasn’t saying anything he hasn’t heard before, or anything that wasn’t true.”

“Fuck off!” I snapped, my anger finally bubbling over. “You are fucking insufferable! I’ve told you on multiple occasions that I have a boyfriend, that I’m not interested. Most people would take the fucking hint and move on. The way you’ve been acting, especially tonight, is way out of line. I want you to get the fuck out and if I ever see you here again I will contact the authorities and have you charged for harassment.”

Mark blinked, realized I was being serious, and finally left. He muttered some less than ideal names towards me as he walked out the door. I sighed and buried my head in my hands. I was grateful that there wasn’t many customers in the area as all of this went down.

“Hey.” I looked up at my co-worker, who was now in front of me. “Go check on your man.”

I thanked her and quickly walked out the door. I didn’t expect him to still be outside, so I was surprised to see him stood by his car, almost like he was waiting for me to come out.

“Did I get you in trouble?”

I gave him a small smile and shook my head. “No. If anything, you did me a favor. When it became evident that Mark wasn’t taking no for an answer, all of us wanted to ban him from the place entirely, but we weren’t allowed unless he really caused trouble. I think it’s safe to say starting a fight is more than probable cause to make sure he never comes back.”

Jimmy was nodding and rubbing the back of his head. “I probably could’ve handled that better though.”

“I didn’t expect you to handle it any other way,” I said. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Are you okay?”

Jimmy chuckled slightly. “Cocksucker didn’t even try to hit me. Did you see his face when I tackled him? He looked like he shit himself.”

I giggled. “Yeah, he’s definitely not a fighter. He’s too much like a high school mean girl for someone who works an office job and makes as much money as he does.”

Jimmy wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, resting his chin on top of my head. “I’m glad you stopped me. I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him if you didn’t.”

“I would’ve liked to see that.”

We both stood in silence for a while. I buried my nose in Jimmy’s sweater, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne. It made a warm feeling swell inside of me, like a safe feeling. It reminded me of how I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than in Jimmy’s arms, or with anyone else besides Jimmy. No amounts of money, or people like Mark could ever change my mind about that.

“I should actually go to work,” I said, reluctantly untangling myself from Jimmy’s arms. “I’ll see you when I get off?”

“Of course, I’ll come pick you up.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. I started back towards the restaurant, but paused to turn back to Jimmy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[strawberrystarcake]

💘 😬 with yachi and the girl in your pfp (i forgot her name lmao) (am i doing this right)

★ request from the build-a-blurb ask meme !

★ pairing: kiyoko x yachi (haikyuu)

★ prompts used: love at first sight, confessing feelings

★ notes: no yeah you're doing great luci <3

❝ are you falling in love? ❞

It begins like this: on a rainy July morning, between nine and ten o’clock, Kiyoko Shimizu walks into a classroom.

The first-year residents of Class 7, sweet things, have never seen anyone even remotely like her. They are enchanted by her eyes and her smile (barely discernable as it is) and the way her hair falls on her shoulders, perfectly straight and smooth. She’s impeccable. One girl asks, “Is she a princess?”

She sounds genuine enough.

Kiyoko, in typical Kiyoko fashion, pointedly ignores the awestruck expressions sent her way. After years and years of it, she’s learned not to give them any mind.

“Good morning. Do you know of anyone who still needs a club?” she asks a boy in the front row. At the acknowledgement, he opens and closes his mouth over and over again for a good five seconds. Privately, Kiyoko notes his resemblance to a fish.

Finally, he points to the back of the classroom. “Yachi-san is in the going-home club,” he says earnestly, “but listen, senpai, I can quit my club if you need anyone—”

Poor boy. Kiyoko never hears his offer; she’s already making her way to the girl he had pointed out, curled in a tiny ball in the back of the classroom with a notebook and a pen.

“Hello,” she greets. “Would you like to observe the Boys’ Volleyball Team this afternoon? We’re looking for another manager.”

The girl looks up, and for a moment, the world slows to a stop.

.

There is a difference between smart and wise, and although Hitoka has always been smart, she’s never been particularly wise. This is probably why, when she sees the pretty girl standing over her desk with an offer, she immediately agrees to do it.

Whatever it is.

Now. In her defense, when a pretty anyone appears at one’s desk with no forewarning whatsoever, one will be a little stunned. This pipelines into a crippling awareness of one’s own incompetence next to someone that beautiful, and given all this, it’s really no wonder Hitoka hadn’t had time to process the girl’s request.

She reaches up to pat a stray lock of cornflower-blonde hair back into place, smiling nervously. The girl had gone very still at the sight of her, only for a second, but a second was enough. I should have paid more attention to how I looked this morning! She must think you’re a mess. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Thank you,” the girl tells her. She doesn’t sound particularly disgusted by her disheveled state, which Hitoka finds very good of her. “Yachi-san, is it?”

“Hitoka Yachi,” she stammers out.

“Excellent. Please meet me at the second gym this afternoon, Yachi-san,” she says, and with a final dizzying smile, she walks away and out of the door.

It is only later, going about her day in a disoriented haze, that she realizes she never learned the pretty girl’s name.

.

She would come to know it by heart through the course of the next year. Kiyoko Shimizu, Karasuno volleyball manager. Kiyoko Shimizu, beloved friend. Kiyoko Shimizu, the girl she will always love.

.

It ends like this: on a picture-perfect spring day, Kiyoko Shimizu graduates, and Hitoka Yachi takes a chance.

.

Hitoka, for all intents and purposes, is not a brave girl.

She screams when she sees a lizard crawling up the classroom wall. She nearly cried the first time she saw Tsukishima in the flesh, looming above her like a very spiteful lamppost. She has not stopped jumping at Hinata and Kageyama’s yells.

However, for all intents and purposes, Hitoka is very much a girl in love. Love might not conquer all, but surely it can force a teenage girl to confront her anxieties for a little while. (Never mind the fact that love planted a good amount of those anxieties in the first place.)

So she sits through the graduation ceremony. She cries when Kiyoko makes her speech (she had graduated at the top of the class, and Hitoka’s bursting with pride). She greets all four of her former upperclassmen at the exit and participates in the fussing and the sniffling and the hugging-goodbye.

It’s a long time before she and Kiyoko get a moment alone, but as Hitoka tugs her underneath the fabled cherry blossom tree in Karasuno’s tiny courtyard, she thinks that it was all worth it in the end.

“Kiyoko-san,” she begins, her voice wavering, “when you first asked me to become a manager, I didn’t actually hear what you were saying.”

Never let it be said that Hitoka Yachi is really any good at this confessing thing.

“What?” Kiyoko says, and she sounds more amused than anything. “Oh, Hitoka-chan.”

At that, she flushes right down to her toes. Her next words come out slightly quicker than she intended. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. That’s still true today.”

The corners of Kiyoko’s lips quirk up, and it distracts Hitoka momentarily, but she is nothing but not determined. “But this year has made me realize a lot of things. You’re beautiful, but that’s not all you are. You’re smart and kind and a lot braver than me. You’re an amazing friend, an amazing person, an amazing everything. I don’t really know what I’d do without you.”

She takes a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really, really, really like you, Kiyoko-san. As… as more than a friend. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same! I just needed to get that out before you left.”

Kiyoko is silent for one, two, three moments. Hitoka feels her heart sink and her cheeks burn hot, and she bows quickly, turning to leave.

She doesn’t get very far.

A hand closes around her wrist, distractingly smooth and warm. “Hitoka-chan, who told you I wouldn’t feel the same way?”

She freezes. “You… you what?”

“I like you too, Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko says with a gentle smile. “As more than a friend.”

And if that isn’t something to hear.

Hitoka stands there for what feels like hours, running the words over in her mind. Kiyoko-san likes me back. Kiyoko-san likes me back. Kiyoko-san likes me back.

“Oh,” she says, eloquently.

Kiyoko laughs, and Hitoka feels all her cognitive functions melt right out of her. “Oh indeed. Come here.”

Before she knows it, she’s tumbling into Kiyoko’s arms, inches away from her face.

“Is this okay?” Kiyoko asks in a whisper. Hitoka can barely manage a nod, but it’s all that Kiyoko needs.

She leans in, and Hitoka closes her eyes.

.

It ends like this: with a soft kiss, and a beautiful new beginning.  

★ haikyuu: @chaotic-queer-disaster @abysslll @fierreth-who

★ short stories: @darling-im-moonstruck @quixotic-ethics @crystallaer @double-cross-my-mind @moondrop-jellyfish @marveladdictt @crystalias @wherearetheplants @matcha-chai

★ notes: lmk if you want to be untagged !! still trying that new thing with combining taglists <3

[angelkurenai]

So much for a surprise - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: So much for a surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: I'd love a chris evans x reader one shot, where they're dating, and after the knives out movie, he's been spending a lot of time with his co-star Ana de Armas, and like in one specific interview she was getting very flirty and such with Chris, and touching his arm and stuff, and I'd just want to see how you'd interpret jealous!reader, and Chris reacting to that jealousy!!

Looking at your phone, for what seemed like the millionth time that day, you tried to suppress a sigh, though you couldn't help the roll of your eyes. Despite the amount of messages and notifications, and there were plenty for sure, none of them including your boyfriend.

You didn't want to hold it against him, after all you knew he was particularly busy these days what with all the interviews and promoting his newest movie. And despite all the games and laughs it could be, or at least it seemed to be to the rest of the world, you were an actress yourself and understood that it could be tiring, exhausting and on more than one occasions very nerve-wracking especially if one was already anxious about taking on a new role after years of being famous for another one. You understood because you had gone through all of that yourself, and you could have excused his lack of contact. You would have, really, if it wasn't for the fact that those interviews were no longer part of his job and a stressful one at that. No, if anything, they were obviously only an excuse now.

An excuse to not answer phone calls or messages, an excuse to spend less time at home, an excuse to make plans to go out with without you – oh you couldn't even remember the last time it had been just the two of you out for a simple drink – an excuse to pull further apart from you, an excuse fool around and be playful with another woman. It was that last part which brought a bitter taste in your mouth. If it was his friends, long-time ones or not, you wouldn't have paid so much attention to it but when he said that he was going out for the third time in a row with Ana and maybe some costar might tag along but he didn't know then there was only so much you could take.

You didn't doubt him, you would never doubt him or his fidelity to you, because you knew the kind of man you had beside you. After years of being together you how much he loved you, he made sure show it every chance he got and made sure you never forgot it, so you always trusted him even if he more often than not ended up surrounded by so many beautiful women at a time. But that didn't mean you could trust her, just like you couldn't blame her. Alright maybe you could andyou would if she ever tried anything with Chris, but the lingering touches or easy smiles and casually frequent glances were no reason for you to start anything or try to hold it against her. Not yet.

You could very easily hold it against him, though. For allowing all of it, but above all for allowing himself to be pulled away from you because of another woman. It wasn't your fault that you couldn't stop the pang in your chest. You weren't to blame for the way your heart squeezed, a bit painfully sometimes too. It was not on you that whenever he said, in that casual simple way that “Oh just going out with Ana.” as if she was his girlfriend of three years and not you, you felt your throat close up and your eyes burn with something akin to unshed tears. You refused to believe it was tears and you refused to believe that he was hurting you, that this situation was hurting you, when it could all easily be just in your head so instead you shrugged most of it off.

“Hey, we were-” the man started but paused when he saw the deep frown that had set on your face, the concern that slipped on his features was touching to say the least. Especially as he gave a small sign to his friends and approached you. Your friends as well and you tended to forget that lately just like you couldn't enjoy anything good that happened to you because of how things with Chris were but then again you had not shared much of it with him and when you didn't get to share your happiness with him it always tended to feel less true or real.

“Are you alright?” the hand on your shoulder along with the small squeeze and warmth it brought was comforting in a way you had almost forgotten you wanted but clearly more than needed, you realized.

“Just fine, don't worry about me. Going without any sleep for two days in a row kind of takes a toll on you, I guess.” you shrugged softly, slowly tucking your phone in your pocket; hoping even in the last couple seconds that there would be a message from your boyfriend.

“Are you trying to be reassuring now?” his eyebrows rose “Cause you're doing a really shitty job at it let me tell you. Hey remind me again who you've been taking acting lessons from at first? Hugh Jackman? Well it shows.”

“No, I swear I-” you couldn't help the giggle that left your lips, feeling light even for a few second “I am alright, really. A tad tired but only because I had so many scenes today. I recover fast and I have tomorrow off so all will be good. It's not anything I'm not used to.”

“I-” his small smile dropped in the end, worry showing through once more “Are you sure? Because I've seen you check your phone plenty of times in between breaks so I worried that- Well, something might've happened.”

“No, it's- Well, I expected some phone call or message from my boyfriend but apparently he's still busy with interviews, so I might just have to go ahead and meet him in person there. We might go out later... I think. We usually do every Friday so...” you trailed off and shrugged, not wanting to burden him with unnecessary worries and information despite how close you were lately.

“Oh well, in that case-” he nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder for a second before facing you again “It seems like you've already got plans with him then but uhm in case anything happens and you're off early or in the mood for drinks we know where we will be-”

“Oh but I'm not sure if I will have time to-” you said with slight worry and wide eyes.

“I know, I know.” he chuckled softly, quickly trying to calm you down “Just letting you know in case there's an off chance that it happens. We'll be waiting for you either way. I'll be waiting.”

You didn't dare say much to him after that, only gave him a shy smile and nod with a promise to at least try, and him that he was alright with anything, and watched him leave with the rest of your friends before you got in your own car to make your way to the studios where the interviews would be held. For the first time, probably in days if not weeks, you felt much lighter. Maybe it was good to see that you were wanted somewhere, in someone's company even though it wasn't your boyfriend's - despite your deepest hopes.

If only your good mood could last for longer than the whole 30 minutes of the ride, that would have been ideal. However, in the end, part of you wished that said interview was probably on the other side of the globe instead of so close to your filming location. Because as you walked into the studio, try as you might, you couldn't hold back the lump in your throat as you saw the scene in front of you.

“Don't know what that is but it sounds good!” Chris said with a grin on his face, soon followed by easy laughter from both him and Ana.

Ana's hand was in that very second on his arm, giving a small squeeze as they kept laughing together, until it slowly but surely started sliding down until her hand was holding his. The interview kept going and they both had smiles on, an occasional laugh escaping here and there. Her hand remained with his long enough for you to notice how he thumb was rubbing soothing circles one moment and playing with his fingers the next in a slow and easy manner that you knew he loved, you knew relaxed him even in the most stressful situations – especially during interviews which you knew he always needed – and that you knew... was your thing. Or at least so you thought.

And apparently you had been mistaken for at least three years now. You had been mistaken to think those warm comforting touches were just for the two of you to share and say things without having to verbally phrase them. You had been mistaken to think that the smile you saw on his face as he looked at Ana was saved just for you. You had been mistaken to believe that the way his face softened and his eyes focused with an unmistakable spark of interest were reserved just for you when you spoke to him about things you loved and not also her as she answered a question that very moment. You had been mistaken to think that the way his shoulder fell in relaxation, in easiness and comfort, as if coming back home for a long day, was reserved just for you and was something that came naturally. As naturally as the feeling of love which he so openly showed both with his actions and words whenever he saw you... or at least used to.

Come to think of it, many of the things you had been considering as important, as unique, for the two of you, were probably nothing more than maybe you getting sentimental or worse too attached. And, for sure you now realized, not happening lately much if not at all. But maybe that was to be expected when you were hardly spending any time together whatsoever. Maybe even not as meaningful... not as true?

But if that love, if those looks and touches and words, were not true then what else about your relationship was in the first place? What was real? What was unique? If he could so easily relax around her, flirt with her and accept her flirting back so easily, so openly then-

You shook your head and tore your eyes from the scene before you, effectively silencing their laughter in your head, even though it already sounded very far off. The unpleasant feeling was back, squeezing your heart, tightening your stomach in knots and making your eyes burn. The bad taste in your mouth, as your throat closed, was there too and you decided to bite on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying or doing anything you wouldn't like. Even the taste of blood was better, anything was better, really than the bitterness that came when you watched them interact like that.

You were above this, had always been especially with all the fans and female costars he had that got a bit more handsy and yes, you brushed most of it off. Most of it, when your blood wasn't boiling like it was right now because of how long this had gone on for.

Watching Chris making his way towards you, with his usually warm smile -even though you couldn't feel its sentiment at the moment -and a clear look of surprise on his face to see you there you felt that over the bitterness, you did feel mad. What you heard didn't help.

“Hey, Chris, don't forget about the meetup later yeah?” it was Ana and really you had nothing against her, not anymore, and not much more than your boyfriend.

Especially when he looked at her with a smile and nod “Sure thing I'll meet up with you there.”

“Honey, hey!” he breathed out and pecked your lips though you didn't even blink up at him, let alone smile “What a surprise, what are you doing here?”

“Surprise huh?” maybe you had originally planned it as that but now even the word made you huff angrily “Oh I'm not sure, maybe you would know better if you did check your phone once in a while. What the fuck is wrong with you, I called you so many times, Chris. Damn it I almost thought something happened. You always answer at least for a couple seconds, you always-” you stopped yourself immediately when you realized you were close to raising your voice and causing a scene which was the last thing you wanted.

Chris' eyes were somewhat wide and his smile had vanished. He considered your expression and stance for a few more seconds before he said in more serious voice “Maybe you'd like to talk in private then?”

Shaking your head, you huffed a humorless laugh but followed him as he took hold of your hand, linking your fingers and leading you away from the main set. No sooner were you alone than you pulled your hand from his grasp, not fact or angrily, only in a cold way without a single emotion on your face which you saw made his frown deepen.

“What's the matter baby?” he asked, voice low and somehow hoarse as he saw you wrap your arms around yourself and take a step back from him. A flush of hurt was visible in his eyes and you didn't like that it felt good to see it, but it was what it was.

“No first, let me ask you a question Chris.” you took a deep breath, trying to straighten your back “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday, why are you-”

“Oh so you do know, splendid! Then you haven't lost track of the date and you certainly haven't lost your phone or anything because you would have mentioned it when I brought it up. Which means you haven't been checking it or have checked, seen my calls, and didn't bother. Both of which, especially today, are equally bad. So, to sum it up-” you let out a shaky sigh “You don't give a damn about me anymore.”

“What?” he blinked in surprise “Where did that-”

“You know it's Friday and we always make plans for Friday night, always Chris. You make sure to text me about it first thing in the morning every single time. No matter where we are, even when we cannot be together, because we had promised. You had, Chris, because you knew. You knew how important it was to me to know even in the most simple way that my partner cares, you knew how much I needed that and I never asked for more never cared for more than just an hour out of your day, you knew better than anyone what I've gone through, and you promised Chris!” you pressed your fingers over your pursed lips when you realized you'd let yourself get carried away, raising your voice was not something you wanted. His eyes did widen this time and his eyebrows shot up.

You shook your head and made sure to wipe any sort of emotion from your face. Mostly caring to wipe out the proof of pain, that is, which you had been constantly feeling, because you were absolutely fine with him seeing the anger. If he managed to attribute it to your jealousy as well then you didn't care, you were beyond that now. If only it was as easy for the tears to be concealed.

You looked at him, and despite your red-rimmed eyes, your voice was low and cold “You always made sure to call. For the past three years. You never missed a single day. Until today. But of course-” you laughed bitterly, your words laced with venom as you nearly glared at him “You already made plans with somebody else, didn't you honey?”

“What- No, I-” he shook his head, eyebrows knitted together and baby blue eyes glistening with sadness and, dare you say, guilt “That's not what it looks like. Really, if this is about it then I promise I- (Y/n), of course you're welcome!”

“Welcome where? Cause I don't feel welcome anywhere in your life, Chris, let alone around her. And no it's clearly not just about this, but how would you even know how you've been making me feel all this time when you're hardly ever around, Chris?” you hissed before looking away from him.

“Hardly ever around?” you didn't know if your words hurt him as much as angered him, based on the way his eyes darkened with anger “Given that you do the same job, I didn't think you'd just show up like this only to pick a fight over something you know I have little control over. These days are harder on me and you know it, you can't really blame me for that! I was doing interviews all day and in between breaks I was so tired I forgot to check even my own phone, I didn't know that's a crime now.”

“So you do think that that's really what I'm trying to say here huh? Wow.” you blinked several times “You think you're the only one having a hard time, Chris? You have no idea about how hard of a time I am having then. No idea how emotionally exhaustion this new role is or how tired I am all the time. No idea how despite all that, I still can't go to sleep lately. And insomnia doesn't even begin to cover it, because of the doubts and constant thinking that I do and you're not there Chris, during any of it. You have no idea about any of it but I mean, how could you? We barely even talk anymore and no!” you raise your hands to stop him “It is not because of this job, it is because of her that all this is happening.”

“H-her?” he frowned in confusion before you saw the realization set down on him and a small sigh escape his lips “Ana? Really, this is all about that? (Y/n), you were always above this, you've never had a jealous fit. We both know I'm just spending some time with a friend, there is nothing more to that. There could never be, how could you ever believe otherwise?”

“How?” you couldn't stop a scoff “Really? You ask how? Oh my gosh, Chris, she is flirting with you nonstop! I have seen the looks and touches and everything, you can't be that oblivious. No I refuse to believe it. For the love of, that was the exact way I acted around you at first! It's crystal clear that she likes you and flirts with you and asks you out all the time and you- you're encouraging this! Chris, you spent twice the time with her than with me and I clearly don't mean work. You're constantly out with her, you do nothing to stop it and even when you're supposed to do something for the two of us you- you go and put her first. And only on second thought, as if to do me a favor, you think to invite me over because oh poor her she'll spend our night all alone. Honestly-” you laughed humorlessly “I wonder who's really your girlfriend after all. Or better yet-” you paused, hesitating for only half a second because maybe you were too hurt and the part of you that was angry was easily controlling your words but you didn't hold it back.

What is the point in being your girlfriend in the first place?

You heard him take a sharp breath in, his eyes and face all showing unbelievable guilt and pain at your words as if it was finally downing him the extent of his mistake. But you didn't let yourself feel sorry even for a second and if he really deserved a taste of his own medicine he was going to get it.

“I didn't know I- I made you feel this way.” his voice was shaky and you could see the beginning of tears make his eyes glisten. You were probably too cruel but so was reality and everything you had been experiencing so when he took a step forward you took one backwards as well. “Honey-” he made to touch you but you shifted away and he didn't insist, although his hands were shaking and his eyes were wide, he forced himself to stay calm you “You know that... I- I love you more than anything.”

“Do I?”seeing the way his lips fell apart but he shook his head and tried to get it together.

“(Y/n), hear me out please.” his hands were shaking and he let out a trembling breath as he ran his fingers through his hair.

He finally got the courage to back up “You know that I love, that will never- it can never change, no matter what. I would never do something like that to you, certainly not knowingly. I'm not that kind of man, I would never be and even more so not to you! You know how important you are to me, goodness, I love you with all my heart! I've loved you for years, nothing can take it away. It breaks me to think I made you feel like this, hell to even realize you're jealous--” he scoffed angrily but you could see it was directed at nobody else but himself as he ran a hand down his face “It's not anywhere near flattering or funny or cute when I see you like this. I shouldn't have let it get this far, it's my fault you feel like this, I know, but I promise-”

“Promise?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper but somehow more effective than any screaming or jealousy fit you could throw as it made him stop on the instant, lips pressing shut “I think I've had enough of promises, Chris, don't you think?”

“Baby, I- I-” he frowned, not understanding how this had gotten so bad and maybe that was somehow comforting - certainly preferable to him encouraging her flirting knowingly or as a joke “I love you.”

“And I love you, but this-” you let out a shaky breath, shrugging numbly “It's not even jealousy, not anymore. Was it at first? Yes, yes it was. You're my boyfriend and you spent more time with her, out for drinks with Ana, out for a dinner with Ana and maybe some costar, interviews with Ana and talking in between breaks with Ana, letting Ana calm you down and comfort you when I-” you sighed “But as I said, not anymore. At this point... I don't have it in me to feel anything at all.”

“So-” you took hold of your things again “You can go ahead and have your fun and you don't have to feel sorry for me-” you hated how you sniffled but remained proud for how put together you still were “I hoped things were different but don't worry, I do know there is someone out there that at least wants my company, my presence in their life. I won't doubt that. I wished it was you but... what can you do?”

“Wh-what?” he breathed out shakily, his voice gruff as he slowly came to realize what you meant “What do you me-”

“Bye Chris, hope I'll see you... sometime within the next week, if you decide to show up at our place.” you gave him a tight-lipped smile before you rushed away.

He tried to reach out for you but you were faster, and him being still in shock and a mess of emotions, didn't have time to catch up with you. He stood in his place for a good few seconds, his heart hammering in his chest, eyes burning, lungs hurting and mind foggy. It didn't even register when he heard Ana speak to him, asking whether everything was alright, and him brushing her off with a small mumble before closing the door, maybe a bit too in her face but doesn't bring himself to care, and asking for some time alone. All the time he couldn't help but wonder how it all had gotten to this.

“Who...” he could only hear himself whisper with a deep frown, the thoughts running through his mind nowhere near pleasant as your words echoed again and again in his mind. He wanted to be even a bit angry, and maybe he was deep down underneath all this, but he couldn't fight the ache in his chest, the deep burn of jealousy which oh stung a lot, and ultimately the hurt than ran deep - even deeper when he realized that this was how he had made you feel - inevitably it brought a feeling of self-loathing as well.

But when he heard the small thud, of something falling, he realized it wasn't really a matter of who. He didn't even have the right to be angry at whoever was making you feel good, welcome and at ease; hell even if they made you feel wanted and desired, he had it coming and he even deserved it as much as he deserved the bitter taste in his mouth and jealousy in his heart. It was him who was at fault, him who had screwed up everything.

Looking down he saw the small object that had fallen from his pocket where he always kept it with him the past couple days, secured and safe away from eyes that could find it before it was the right time. He wanted to scoff bitterly at the thought, would he get the chance to find one after all?

“So much for a surprise huh?” he asks practically noone as he opens the box and takes the ring to toy with between his fingers.

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; prologue

Pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x fem!reader

Next Chapter

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: kinda long for a prologue, fluff, not really much but please let me know if anything in this upsets you. 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: This is my first Bucky fic, I thought of it last night and I was kind of excited to write it. Sorry if any of the information is wrong as well my knowledge of Ballet and Brooklyn/NY are limited. I’m not sure if there are any similar story types but feel is so please let me know and I’ll tag them for people to read in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy :) Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter. 

Before everything - 1942

“Oh, come on Steve, come to the Ballet with me!” Bucky spoke enthusiastically, his arms pressed again the frame of Steve’s front door. “It’s my last week before I go.”

“And you couldn’t have just chose to go to a bar like any other normal man would a week before going to the war?” Steve responded looking sceptically at his best friend. Someone who he had never known to be interested in ballet.

“Because going to a bar filled with soldiers would be a bright choice for you,” sighed Bucky, “I’d rather not have to get into another fight…” Steve rolled his eyes and pursed his lips waiting for Bucky to continue. “Everyone in New York is talking about the Ballet! Don’t you want to feel cultured?” Bucky exclaimed moving away from the door frame. “Plus!, I got us pretty good seats if I do say so myself, what row was it again…?” He trailed off looking smugly at Steve. “…Oh, that’s right! Row three.”

“Too bad you couldn’t score front row,” responded Steve mimicking Bucky’s cocky attitude. Bucky huffed at his friend’s response. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” laughed Steve, “Fine if the ballet is where you want to go a week before you go, then the ballet is where we’re going, I guess.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up at his friends’ words. “Yes! This is going to be great, a night on the town, just two gentlemen going to see the ballet.” He grinned, Steve noting how happy he seemed to be going to the ballet; he wasn’t sure why. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6pm”, Bucky spoke turning away from his still sceptical best friend.

“Okay then,” responded Steve watching him walk off.

Just as he’d said, Bucky had picked Steve up the next day, driving them to the theatre and making it there for 6:30. They wandered the foyer looking at all of the people dressed up to watch the performance like them. Many had already been a few times and were raving about what they were most excited for again. For Bucky and Steve though, this is new territory. Both of them glad though that they were doing something new. They made their way into the theatre finding their seats, as everyone began to pile in, ready for the show.

“I’ve heard that the lead female ballet dancer is meant to be very good”, whispered Bucky to Steve as the lights began to dim.

“You mean the Prima Ballerina?” Whispered back Steve correcting him.

Bucky looked at Steve with an amused look. “For someone who didn’t want to come you sure know a lot about ballet”, chuckled Bucky placing his focus back towards the stage.

Steve sighed and looked back at him, “I don’t know a lot of ballet, that’s just common knowled—” He was shushed by Bucky as he tapped him on the shoulder multiple times in order to tell him to be quiet. Steve looked towards the stage again as the orchestra began playing.

Bucky watched as the curtains opened, the stage filled with ballet dancers.

Not long into the performance you would enter, nervous side stage as your friends reminded you of how brilliant you would be. This wasn’t your first time performing but every time was just as nerve-wracking as the last. This was your passion of course, and you wanted nothing more than to be perfect.  You looked down at your tutu, a bright red tutu, a colour that stood out amongst the rest of the cast who were dressed in whites and greens. Even the male lead was only dressed in white. You particularly like your pointe shoes the best; they were a stunning bright red to match the rest of your costume.

Shaken from your thoughts you heard the beginning of your entrance within the music, jumping up and down briefly before getting into position to enter. Then you did, getting into character instantly.

Bucky gasped as his eyes followed you as you entered the stage so gracefully. He had heard you were a magnificent dancer, but he didn’t know you were so beautiful. Composing himself in his seat he watched as you were so engrossed in the music and the dance. It was obvious you loved what you did.

As the ballet continued his eyes never lost focus from you. He even thought there was one time when you had looked at him in the audience, but he knew that couldn’t be true, someone so perfect would never draw their focus from their work to look at him.

Even during the interval Bucky was in his own world as he thought about how captivating you had been. Barely listening but nodding as Steve spoke to him about his thoughts of the show.

When the show finally ended the crowd stood up applauding the performance. Eagerly so did Bucky, Steve following. As you bowed many people threw roses and he mentally cursed himself for not bringing any himself. The curtains closed and the theatre lights slowly came back on.

“Well I must say I did enjoy that,” spoke Steve as they exited the theatre, breaking the silence and pulling Bucky from his thoughts, he stopped walked and looked at Steve.

“Steve, call me crazy but I have to meet her, I have to know her name.”

Steve looked at Bucky and sighed knowing he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Alright pal, why don’t we wait near the door the cast exit from?”

Bucky practically jumped up and down as he followed his friend, who somehow knew where the cast door was, although it wasn’t a hard guess. Just down the alleyway next to the theatre.

-     

After the performance, adrenaline was running through you like crazy. You loved this feeling. Tonight’s audience was marvellous, and they held nothing back when applauding you all for your performance.

When you performed you couldn’t see much of the audience due to the stage lights, but you could see up to around the 4th row. While you had stopped at the end one of your solos in the first act your eyes had briefly stumbled upon a very handsome man with brunette hair. But you didn’t get a great look because as soon as one song ended the next one started.

You had removed your costume and let your hair out of its bun brushing it out and attempting to make it look as presentable as you could. You got into a nice dress which you had arrived in, keeping your makeup on along with your bright red lipstick. Grabbing your bag, you said goodbye to your fellow colleagues as you exited the backstage area and entered the alleyway.

As you got to where the alleyway ended, and the city sidewalk started you were met with the same brunette you had noticed during the show. “Miss, I’m terribly sorry to bother you after your show but I just had to introduce myself to such a beautiful and talented woman.” Rambled Bucky.

You blushed and looked down as your dress, “Why thank you…” you trailed off waiting for the handsome stranger to tell you, his name. He seemed a bit distractedd looking at your eyes that he didn’t catch on though, causing his smaller blonde friend next to him to nudge him.

“Oh, sorry my names Bucky,” he replied letting out a nervous chuckle, “and this is Steve,” gesturing to his best friend.

Steve raised his arm to shake your hand, “Sorry miss but what was your name again? Bucky here forgot to tell me.”

You raised your arm and shook his hand, letting out a giggle over the two men in front of you, “My names y/n”.

You looked back over at Bucky who seemed to be going over something in his brain. “I wanted to know if you wanted to get a drink or some food or something with me?” What Bucky thought would be a confident question turned more into a rambling mess. Gosh he thought you were pretty.

You blushed, “How am I to know you’re not a murderer?” Raising an eyebrow at the nervous man in front of you.

Steve interjected this time, “I can confirm y/n, he’s not a murderer. Honestly, he’s usually a lot better at flirting than this, I’ve never seen him look so nervous.”

Bucky sent a death glare at Steve before looking back at you. You laughed again, grinning ear to ear, “Well I am pretty hungry, so I won’t say no, especially when a ladies’ man is so nervous to talk to me.” You smirked.

Now it was Bucky’s turn to grin, “great!” He responded. “I just have to drop Steve home and then we’re all set… Did you have a car?” He asked.

“Nope,” you spoke back, “so… do you think you’d be able to drop me home afterwards?” you asked, “You know considering I’m being so nice to a stranger.”

“I was going to offer anyway,” he replied signalling you to follow. You chatted with the two men as you walked to the car, when you got there, you insisted Steve sit in the front considering he was being dropped home. Then once you arrived at his, you both said your goodbyes to Steve. “I hope to see you again soon,” you yelled from the car as you sat in the front waving.

Steve waved back, as Bucky drove off to one of his favourite bars/restaurants beeping his horn at Steve as he left.

The rest of the night went smoothly, you both ate and chatted for hours, feeling like time barely existed with one another. It may sound cheesy but both of you felt like you were meant to meet one another. The only downside was that Bucky had told you he would be leaving for the war at the end of week, so you both knew it could never be anything more until at least the war ended.

It wasn’t until you realised the time that you knew you needed to get home, being Prima Ballerina wasn’t an easy job and it required getting at least some sleep. Bucky understood and drove you home continuing to talk about everything together. He even confessed he wished he had of gotten you some roses, to which you responded that how would he have known to do that. Of course, Bucky being a gentleman he still was disappointed he didn’t, even if you didn’t mind.

When you got home you thanked him for the wonderful night. “I’m going to see you again before I go,” he said from in the car, as you stood by the passenger window.

“I hoped you’d say that” you replied, “Good night Bucky,” you blew him a kiss, and his cheeks turned a bright pink.

“Goodnight y/n” he replied, grinning like a fool. He watched you walk into your apartment to make sure you got in safe before driving off. Gosh you were perfect.

-   

It was finally the day he left.

Just like he promised you did see him again. After each show through the week, he would bring you a rose. Each time making you blush.

Most days he just drove you home and you chatted in the car, but a couple of times you got dinner again and made the most of the time you had with your new friend. You wished he didn’t have to go; you wished every time you saw him you could kiss him. But that felt like it would complicate things, you hadn’t known him long enough to put yourself through that kind of heart ache.

You and Steve were at the train station saying goodbye to Bucky. It was hard for Steve, he wanted nothing more than to go with his best friend and fight for his country, but he couldn’t. They didn’t want him.

For you though, you had only known Bucky a week, you had grown so comfortable with him, so it was hard seeing him leave, not knowing if he’d come back. He knew more about you than some of your closest friends that you had known for years, he was just that kind of guy, someone you could trust.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to just grab you and kiss you, but he didn’t know if that’s what you wanted. Steve had told him the day before to just go for it, but he was unsure. He didn’t want to put you through the heart ache. As he picked up his bags, Steve gave him a giant hug, you stepped forward and did the same hoping you wouldn’t have to let him go.

Releasing each other from your embrace, you both looked into each other’s eyes. Your eyes filled with water, and you could tell Bucky was holding back tears.

“Goodbye Steve, goodbye y/n” he spoke sadly as he began to walk towards the train.

Steve looked at you as if to say, ‘are you sure you don’t want to just go for it?’ and you sighed. He was right, what was there to lose? Bugger this you thought, “Bucky!” you yelled running towards him, “You forgot something!” He turned around confused only to be greeted by you grabbing his face and softly yet hungrily pressing your lips to his. He sighed into the kiss dropping his bags, he didn’t push you away instead he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. 

This kiss was nothing like any of the kisses you had experienced before, if fact it made you feel the same way ballet did. It was the same for Bucky, none of the kisses he had ever shared with anyone felt like this.

You finally stopped and parted, resting your foreheads on one another’s.  

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll see you again.” He spoke softly to you.

You stepped back as a few tears fell down your face, nodding. He gave you a charming Bucky smile before picking his bags back up and turning away. You walked back to Steve giving him a hug, as he watched his best friend leave him for the first time in his life.

You wanted nothing more than to believe that you would see each other again.

Little did you know you would, only 72 years later.

Chapter One (next chapter)

[wondernimbus]

woes of a prefect — cedric diggory

prompt: cedric diggory x female!reader

request: do u mind writing a cedric x reader where they're both prefects and they bump into eachother when leading the first years - the kids are surprised to find out that dating someone from a seperate house is fine

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

"Follow me, please—excuse me, that's the wrong way!"

[Y/N] sighs to herself for what must have been the hundredth time since the opening feast ended. This year's first-years are proving to be especially difficult—even more so than usual. The tiny eleven-year-old Gryffindors keep trying to go down different corridors despite [Y/N] leading them at the very front of the pack.

She grits her teeth before forcing a painful-looking smile. "Everybody," she says in as patient a tone as she can muster, fighting the urge to throttle the mischievous first-year at the back who keeps trying to leave the group. "If you don't follow me, you'll end up getting lost inside the castle—and we have trolls and vampires and ogres who will not hesitate to eat any lost first year they stumble upon."

The first-years gasp in fear simultaneously. One of them starts crying, but [Y/N] only briefly pats the bawling little girl on the shoulder before ushering them up the stairs. "That's it, come on—excuse me!"

One of them—the same particularly devious boy from before—breaks away from the group and bounds down the stairs they had just ascended. A domino effect ensues; the other first-year Gryffindors catch sight of him, and apparently the sight of his defying the rules has given the others the courage to follow suit, because the rest of the first-years—save for the teary-eyed girl—bound down the stairs after him.

Frazzled, frustrated, and incredibly bewildered, [Y/N] stands at the top of the staircase for a moment, stunned as she stares down at the first-year Gryffindors now back in the Great Hall corridor. She wonders, briefly, if her prefect badge will be taken away if she uses the incarcerating charm on all of them so she can levitate them up to Gryffindor tower herself.

But then, as though the heavens have taken pity on her, help comes in the form of her boyfriend.

A group of baffled-looking first-year Hufflepuffs have arrived at the scene. At the very front of the pack stands Hufflepuff prefect Cedric Diggory, looking just as bewildered as the seemingly better disciplined young Hufflepuffs behind him. [Y/N] can't blame them; the sight of eleven-year-olds prancing around the Great Hall corridor after the opening banquet when they're supposed to be in their common room is certainly one to behold.

Slowly, Cedric pries his gaze away from the rather comical scene to look at [Y/N], who has now regained control of her senses and is rushing down the steps down into the Great Hall corridor in pursuit of the rampaging first-years.

Admittedly a little amused, Cedric approaches [Y/N], his own group of first-year Hufflepuffs trailing after him obediently. [Y/N]'s Gryffindors thankfully haven't gone very far; at present, they're currently clustered around a large painting of Godric Gryffindor, eyes wide with childish mirth as they poke at the canvas, much to the bafflement of Godric Gryffindor himself.

"Blimey!" exclaims one of them. "That's one old-looking bloke!"

"That's Gryffindor, stupid. He founded our house!"

Bewildered, Godric Gryffindor stares down at the group of eleven-year-olds clustered around his portrait. "How may I assist you, young—ow!" One of the first-years had taken out their wand and jabbed his belly.

[Y/N] rushes forward and places herself between the first-years and the portrait, effectively blocking the enraged Godric Gryffindor from view. "Alright, that's enough!" she announces, giving each of them a stern look. "If any of you lot keep this behavior up, I will physically—"

"Oookay!" Cedric says loudly, cutting her off before she says anything she might regret. Mumbling "hold on a second, you guys" over his shoulder to his group of Hufflepuffs, he walks over to [Y/N] and the rowdy first-year Gryffindors.

"Woah!" one of the Gryffindors cries out. "You look like my uncle!"

They all start giggling. Cedric meets [Y/N]'s gaze and she grimaces, mouthing "get me out of here".

Cedric's lips tug up into an amused grin as he nods. Turning to address the Gryffindors, he says in a playful tone, "What do we have here?"

A flurry of excited chatter bursts from the group as they all try to reply to Cedric. The closest one to him exclaims, "We were looking at all the portraits! We don't have ones as big as those at home!"

Cedric peers down at the enthusiastic little girl who had chimed in. "Really?" he says, smiling. "Well, me neither. Wicked, aren't they?"

Another burst of eager assent from the tiny Gryffindors.

"But you'll have plenty of time to look at them everyday," Cedric says, nodding solemnly at them. "For now, you lot have to go into your common rooms—and rest assured there are more fascinating things to look at there. Alright?"

There is a momentary lull as they seem to consider this, but eventually, they all shrug and nod, turning back to face their own Gryffindor prefect. [Y/N] gapes at Cedric incredulously as though saying how? Cedric merely shrugs, although he looks smug.

"Okay," she huffs, shoulders slumping in relief. "Let's get going!"

Thankfully, this time, they all trail after her. She pauses when she passes by Cedric to swoop in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Ced," she whispers to him, offering him a smile of gratitude.

"Don't stress yourself too much, love."

"WHAT!" the first-year Gryffindors exclaim in unison. One of them blubbers, "You two are.. together?"

Taken aback, [Y/N] and Cedric turn to face them. The looks on their childish faces give off the impression that someone has insulted their mothers. "Yes?" [Y/N] replies uncertainly, looking at Cedric out of the corner of her eye. He looks like he's fighting back a laugh.

"Like boyfriend and girlfriend?"

She nods slowly, wondering where this is going and dreading it.

"But you can't!" another tiny Gryffindor boy with auburn hair says. "You're from different houses—you're enemies!" [Y/N] stares at him, looking genuinely baffled. This is not how she imagined her first day back at Hogwarts.

Mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words, Cedric once more comes to her rescue. "Just because we're from different houses doesn't mean we have to be enemies," he says gently. [Y/N] is surprised at how much self-control he has; personally, she feels like tugging her hair out. "Aside from the competition for the house cup—"

"And the Quidditch cup!" pipes up the same auburn-haired boy.

"Yes, the Quidditch cup—aside from those, there's really not much rivalry between the houses," the Gryffindors stare up at Cedric in awe. "You'll find that there's a whole lot of inter-house friendships going on around here."

"And relationships," [Y/N] mutters, pressing a palm to her forehead.

"Wicked!"

"Do you guys kiss?"

"Yuck!"

Before the Gryffindors can get any more invested in the topic, [Y/N] claps her hands together and ushers them up the stone steps. "I'll tell you all about inter-house relationships and friendships when we get to the common room, okay?"

Grinning excitedly to themselves, the Gryffindors finally, finally skip up the staircase with [Y/N] in the lead. Cedric goes back to his own group of calm Hufflepuffs, amused as he stares after his girlfriend.

"Alright, let's go," says Cedric, leading the first-year Hufflepuffs towards the kitchen corridor, where their common room is.

But when he glances over his shoulder already a few feet away, he sees that the first-year Hufflepuffs are still standing there, rooted to the spot.

Cedric's brows arch.

One of the Hufflepuffs at the front row says in a timid voice, "Was that your girlfriend?"

Gaping at them momentarily, Cedric lets out an incredulous laugh as he nods and beckons for them to follow him.

But they stay unmoving. The same timid Hufflepuff boy opens his mouth, and with his forehead creased, says slowly, "But she's in Gryffindor."

[vampiregirl1797]

All Because of a Jacket

Stiles x Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Summary: A collection of the times Stiles lends Y/N his lacrosse jacket.

 Warnings: None.

 Word Count: 2,039

 A/N: I have no idea where this came from guys. Actually, I do—I ordered myself a Stiles lacrosse jacket and I’ve been living in it since it came, so that’s most likely what inspired this little imagine. I hope you enjoy it! Leaving a link HERE to the jacket I got off Etsy if you’re interested—I cannot recommend it enough!

 Click Here For my Masterlist.

 It started off subtle, something I didn’t notice at first, and was merely grateful for. The pack had met in the middle of the lacrosse field on a Sunday evening, the location chosen as a way of avoiding any police cruisers who were out enforcing the town-wide 9pm curfew. Still, I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just have met at someone’s house, though I suppose that did run the risk of neighbours ratting us out.

 I’d been trying to listen to what Scott was saying, and the whole reason we were gathered in the middle of the freezing cold lacrosse field in January, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus. It was my own fault, really. I’d assumed we’d go inside the school once we’d all gathered together, which was why I’d forgone grabbing a jacket as I left my house. Now, I was there, scrunching the sleeves of my jumper in a vain attempt to retain some heat and reverse the cold settling in on my bones. I had my arms crossed over my chest, and was seriously considering just wrapping my arms around Derek and burying my face into his back—he wouldn’t have minded and the man gave off more heat than a damn space heater, but I was startled out of my thoughts by a curtain of warmth being wrapped around me. I blinked, surprised and my eyes fluttered closed for a second in complete and utter relief, before my brain registered that the wonderfully warm jacket hadn’t just landed on my shoulders of its own accord. I looked to my left and straight into a particular pair of honey brown eyes that I was more than a little fond of. His eyes were soft at that moment, and when I murmured a quiet thank you, he responded with a bashful smile that made my heart skip a beat in my chest.

 As I slid my arms through the long sleeves of Stiles’ lacrosse jacket and buttoned up the front in an attempt to retain the warmth the sarcastic boy’s body had provided, I found myself grateful that Stiles, like me, was one of the only humans of the group. It meant that I’d been able to successfully keep my more than platonic feelings from him. Of course, he was the only one who didn’t know.

 I narrowed my eyes at Derek’s teasing, barely there, smile and discretely flipped him off by scratching my nose with my middle finger. The action didn’t go unmissed by the blue-eyed wolf and he breathed a chuckle before returning his attention to the alpha in front of the group.

 My cold state now taken care of, I was able to concentrate on Scott’s words, subconsciously stepping closer to Stiles as I listened, my body seeking out the comfort his presence always provided me with without my consent.

 That was the first time Stiles gave me his jacket.

 //

 The second time had been during a “stake-out” with Liam and Stiles. The honey-eyed boy was adamant that there was something off with Theo, and honestly I hadn’t got the best feeling about him popping into our lives out of nowhere for one, adding in the fact he was also a werewolf… well it was just too much of a coincidence.

 ‘I’m telling you, there’s something not right about him, Y/N.’ Stiles said, for what must have been the hundredth time in the last four hours.

 ‘Stiles.’ My hand covered his on the steering wheel, and I felt us both immediately relax at the touch, ‘I believe you, okay? You don’t need to convince me of anything. If you say there’s something off with Theo, I’m not going to question it.’

 His usually honey-brown eyes were dark with emotion as his hand squeezed mine, ‘why? Why do you believe me?’

 ‘Because you have great instincts and I trust you and your opinions more than anyone else’s.’ I told him honestly.

 I felt my heart beat pick up the longer his eyes bore into mine, but I refused to look away, even knowing that Liam was probably smiling in the same smug way all the werewolves had mastered whenever my heart misbehaved around Stiles. What felt like hours later, Stiles blinked and bought my hands in-between both of his.

 At my look of confusion, he elaborated, ‘you’re freezing.’

 ‘Huh, I didn’t even notice.’ I shrugged, trying to fight the blush forming on my cheeks at what felt like an intimate gesture.

 He opened his hands a little so he could blow some hot air onto mine, and the warmth generated from the act seemed to travel through my whole body.

 ‘Better?’ he asked after a few minutes of repeating the gesture.

 I cleared my throat and kept my answer short, not trusting my voice, ‘much. Thank you.’

 ‘No problem.’ He released my hands and I slid them underneath my thighs to retain the heat he’d created.

 My eyes moved over to where we’d been watching for most of the night, to see Theo was still playing his video game, like he had been for most of the night. It made me frown; sure video games were what teenagers usually did, but it just seemed too convenient to me. I was about to voice my opinion to Stiles and Liam when familiar cotton was placed onto my shoulders. My arms moved through the sleeves almost reflexively as I offered my best friend a grateful smile, and tried to resist the urge to bury my face into the fabric to inhale his sweet and husky scent.

 ‘Thank you.’

 ‘Can’t have you freezing on me.’ He joked his hand squeezing my thigh briefly before returning it to the steering wheel.

 I couldn’t have stopped the blush that formed on my cheeks if I tried, so I turned my gaze to stare out of the window, my hand resting where his had touched me, and I wondered— if I were to remove the denim barrier provided by my jeans, would my thigh display a brand of his hand print?

 Because the heat left behind by his touch felt exactly like I had been branded as his.

 //

 The third time had been in the cafeteria.

 We were all sitting together, minus Derek and Liam, and all having different conversations in our own little groups. Allison and Isaac were making weekend plans, provided she could sneak out without her father noticing, Lydia, Aiden, Ethan and Danny were talking about something they could all do together on a double date, and Stiles, Scott and I were all talking about collages we wanted to apply to. Well, they were. I was trying not to fall asleep using my sandwich as a pillow; I’d been up late the night before, helping Stiles put together his criminal bored. Nothing had been solved, but we both found it helpful to have everything, every clue, and every detail all in one place.

 Of course, time had gotten away from us, and our party had been broken up by the Sherriff returning from his shift and gently informing us it was past three am. I’d been too tired to drive home and had slept on the couch, but two hours sleep wasn’t enough time for me, unlike Stiles; he was as hyperactive as ever.

 I pushed my tray away from me with a sigh, too tired to eat anyway, and laid my head down on top of my arms. I’d heard a few chuckles from the pack, but I ignored it; they knew how I could be when I was tired so they just left me to it. I was on the brink of passing out, knowing someone would wake me for our next class, when I found myself surrounded by what was becoming my favourite jacket emitting warmth and a scent I couldn’t get enough of. I slid my arms into the sleeves and nuzzled my face into the fabric once I’d returned them to my original position. Had I been fully conscious of my actions, I’d have been embarrassed at my audience, but the chuckles simply faded into nothing as I finally found sleep.

 What I hadn’t noticed was Stiles’ fond smile, or the knowing and frustrated expressions the rest of the pack wore.

 //

 The fourth time had been during a lacrosse game.

 I’d been standing in the bleachers, wearing a jacket that was not keeping me warm in the slightest and discretely trying to huddle closer to Malia—she gave off as much heat as her uncle did—when I’d heard Stiles shouting my name.

 I’d frowned, but manoeuvred my way out of the row I’d been sat in and made my way down to the benches, where he was waiting. He was holding his helmet under his arm and when I reached him, he held out his jacket and I took it, but didn’t put it on in case I’d misunderstood his meaning. Did he want me to give it to Malia? I’d noticed they’d been particularly close since she had joined the pack, and as much as it made my heart ache, I was glad the female wolf had someone to offer her comfort when she’d been without it for so long.

 ‘I noticed it’s pretty cold and figured you could use a jacket.’ He said, seeming nervous.

 I felt a genuine smile form on my lips as I slid the cotton on and buttoned up the front, ‘thank you. I feel like I should rent this from you with how often I wear it.’ I chuckled, pulling my hair out from underneath the fabric.

 He joined me in my laughter, ‘nah, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like seeing you in my jacket.’ He looked nervous again and my heart skipped a beat in my chest.

 Did he mean…? ‘You do?’ I asked, my voice quiet to my own ears.

 ‘I do,’ he stepped closer and I felt wonderfully dizzy as a stronger wave of his heat and scent washed over me, ‘Y/N…I’ve liked you for a while. As more than a friend, and I’ve been too scared to say anything, but Scott practically threatened to kill me if I didn’t admit it to you.’

 ‘You like me?’ I repeated, dumbfounded. How had I missed it? Had I been so preoccupied in hiding my own feelings that I’d been blind to his?

 ‘Yes.’ He looked more nervous now and I found myself reaching out, my hands falling on top of his in an attempt to comfort him.

 ‘Stiles…’ I took a breath, finding the courage to say the words I’d been holding in for so long, ‘I like you too.’

 His honey-coloured eyes bore into mine for what felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds, before his lips formed a face splitting grin that made my heart warm in my chest.

 ‘So, will you go on a date with me?’ he asked, seeming more confident but not much.

 ‘Absolutely.’ I grinned, my face leaning into his hand as it came up to caress the side of my face.

 ‘Awesome.’ He grinned again, and I was sure that we would both be wearing these giddy expressions for the foreseeable future, ‘pizza after?’

 ‘Perfect.’ I laced my fingers through his and almost jumped a mile when coach blew his whistle. I’d been so lost in him, his touch, his warmth, and his smell that I’d completely forgotten where we were.

 ‘I should get out there before Coach kills me.’ He chuckled.

 ‘Okay.’ I replied, reluctantly releasing his hands.

 He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to my forehead that I made my heart melt. Before he could leave me completely, I grabbed his jersey and with a teasing grin told him, ‘by the way, this jacket is mine now.’

 He blinked, and when he’d processed my words a bright, fond grin broke out across his face. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered against my skin, ‘you won’t find me objecting to that, sweetheart.’ He winked, waved, and left to join the huddle in the centre of the field.

 My cheek didn’t stop burning for the rest of the game.

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Chapter 12

This update took a ridiculously long time BUT... I love this chapter so much. Hope you guys do, too. 

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 12: Rosehall

“Rosehall?” Elain repeated. She’d never heard of it before, but there was something lovely and familiar about the name. Something sweet in the way it tasted as it rolled off her tongue. Glancing around, she took in the ivory cottage that was covered in climbing ivy and sheltered by trees.

She turned around and saw Azriel watching her closely. She couldn’t help the tingle that ran down her spine as his sharp hazel eyes and lingering shadows took in her every movement. “Let me show you something,” Azriel said, his voice full of something like excitement, though Elain couldn’t be sure. She’d never seen him express that emotion before.

She followed him to the backside of the cottage, and inhaled sharply as she took in the scene.

It was a garden, and yet it was not like any garden she had ever seen. Her own garden back in Velaris and the one in the conservatory were both tidy, organized into rows and displays, and had a sense of artificial uniformity. This garden, however, looked like it was a natural part of the forest. It was sprawling and untamed. Wild, even. But that did not diminish its beauty at all; on the contrary, it made it all the more stunning. If she was not such an accomplished gardener herself, she might have believed that it had simply been here since the beginning of time, and would be there long after the concept of time ceased to exist. But she recognized many of the flower species, and knew that those blooms could only thrive under the hands of someone who excelled at gardening.

“Who did all this?” She asked. 

Azriel cleared his throat, but before he could reply, someone walked out the back door of the cottage.

A dark-haired Illyrian female stood before them. Elain had never seen her before, but felt like she knew her. The female was very beautiful, but was looking at Elain with obvious wariness, her green-and-golden eyes wide with apprehension.

Azriel approached the female. He grabbed her hand and said a few words to her in a language Elain did not understand. The female seemed to calm slightly as he spoke to her, as he ran one of his hands down her wispy arms, soothing her. 

Then, he turned to Elain. 

“Elain, this is my mother, Rozaliah. Mom, this is my friend, Elain.” 

Elain’s mouth fell open in shock. Now that she looked at the woman more closely, she could certainly see the resemblance: her high cheekbones, narrow nose and graceful movements were all reflected in her son. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Elain said finally, finding her voice. 

Azriel’s mother only smiled tightly, clearly still nervous in Elain’s presence. In an effort to make her more relaxed, Elain casually took a few steps back. 

Again, Azriel began murmuring to his mother in that unknown language. Rozaliah glanced up at Azriel, such affection and adoration and warmth in her eyes. Elain turned away, a slight lump in her throat. She knew, without a doubt, that her own mother had never once looked at her with as much love as Azriel’s mother looked at him now. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Rozaliah had approached her until the female stood right in front of her. 

“Hello,” Elain said, not sure what else to say as the female stared at her with eyes so much like her son’s it was uncanny (and slightly unsettling, particularly to someone who’d fantasized about those eyes). “Your home is beautiful.”

Rozaliah smiled and dipped her head. She did not say anything, but Elain understood the meaning. You are very welcome here.

Elain smiled back. She wasn’t sure why Rozaliah would not speak to her, but that was fine. After all, she herself had gone many months not wanting to speak to anyone. Sometimes trauma grasps your tongue like a vice and just won’t let go. She would certainly not judge this female for keeping her lips sealed, no matter the reason.

“I was going to take Elain to the clearing, Mother,” Azriel said in the common tongue. Rozaliah turned and nodded, then mimed something to Azriel before walking back into the cottage.

Azriel began to walk toward a well-beaten path leading into the surrounding woods, gesturing for Elain to follow him. The two fell into step and didn’t speak for a few moments, but when Azriel finally met Elain’s gaze, she raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” Azriel asked.

“You brought me to your Mother’s house.”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Shaking her head, Elain said, “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

He looked confused. “What did you mean, then?”

Elain ducked her head in embarrassment. Perhaps it was not a tradition in the Fae world like it was in the mortal world to introduce your significant other to your parents. 

“Never mind,” She murmured. Azriel continued to look puzzled but let the subject be.

Moments later, the path ended. They stood in a large clearing shielded overhead by arching trees. Sunlight flickered through the thick branches, leaving spots of darkness and light alike on the forest floor. 

But the truly magnificent part was the flowers blooming around the rim of the clearing. In the day, the flowers were so pale they were nearly translucent, so timid they tucked into themselves. But when the sun set, they would blossom and bloom into a gorgeous ivory spectacle, dancing in the moonlight. They were ridiculously difficult to tend to; even Elain had never successfully been able to keep them alive. And as they only bloomed fully under the stars, many people never got the chance to see them. But when you did...it was a sight to behold. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“Night Roses,” Elain breathed. “Your mother planted these?”

Azriel nodded. 

“I wish I could see them during the night,” Elain said, more to herself than to him.

“We’ll come back sometime during the evening so you can see them in full bloom,” Azriel promised.

Elain met his eyes and was surprised to see a soft blush on his golden cheekbones.

Clearing his throat, Azriel said, “I was thinking we could just do our training here for the day.”

Elain nodded enthusiastically; she had not yet told Azriel about last night’s discovery of inducing visions through touch. But with the thought of last night, she remembered all of the important information Vassa had shared with her, and realized that took precedence over any of her visions.

So Elain told Azriel all about her discussion with Vassa, sharing everything she’d learned about Koschei and the mortal queen, though there was a small pit in her stomach. Even though Vassa hadn’t specifically asked her to keep anything a secret, she still felt like she was betraying her friend’s confidence. But she was a spy, and this was her duty.

“One more thing,” Elain said after she had finished her account. “I found out how to make my shadows sing,” She smiled shyly. She was unreasonably excited to tell Azriel about her discovery.

Sitting up straighter, Azriel said, “How?” Anticipation gleamed in his eyes.

She hesitated slightly, then held out a hand. “May I?” 

Tilting his head slightly, Azriel grabbed her hand. She ignored the electricity that coursed through her veins as his long fingers brushed against her own. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused.

The vision appeared faster than ever before. She saw Azriel flying high above the Illyrian mountains. Saw him descend and land in a training camp, saw him walk toward Cassian and Rhys, who were deep in discussion. 

“There’s my favorite broody shadowsinger!” Cassian called jovially as Azriel approached. 

“About time,” Rhys drawled, thinly-veiled suspicion in his eyes. “What took you so long? We were supposed to meet hours ago.” 

Elain pulled herself out of her head, coming back to reality. Azriel was watching her intently.

She smiled at him. “You’ll be late for your meeting with Rhys and Cassian. You might want to send your shadows ahead of time and let them know.” 

Azriel blinked. Then he threw his head back and laughed, the sound so joyous and wonderful Elain wished she had a Symphonia like Nesta’s, if only to replay that laugh over and over again.

“Fantastic,” Azriel said, still chuckling slightly. “This is great, Elain. Well done.” He was grinning at her, wide and unrestricted. Her heart skipped a beat.

But then she frowned. “Wait. You’re not going to be late because of me, right?” 

Shifting, Azriel said, “That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!”

“Elain, I could be hours late to meet them and I still wouldn’t care. I’m staying with you until you want to go back.” There was a hint of finality in his tone that told Elain it would be pointless to argue, but she still felt slightly uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why he would be late to an important meeting just for her. 

“I’m sorry you had to come pick me up,” Elain said softly. She picked up a leaf off the ground and started tearing it into pieces. 

After a moment, Azriel asked, “What happened?”

She swallowed down the knot in her throat. “Greyson. He came to the Mortal Manor to meet with Vassa. I don’t know why. I left rather quickly.”

She glanced up to see Azriel’s knuckles flexing slightly, but other than that the shadowsinger gave no other reaction. 

Closing her eyes, Elain said, “It’s so humiliating. Truly. That he still affects me so much.”

When she opened her eyes, Azriel was frowning. “You should never for one second let that mortal make you feel humiliated. He is the one who should feel ashamed. He let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him, and did so with disrespect and dishonor.” 

Elain sat stunned for a moment. “Thank you,” She finally managed to murmur. 

He cleared his throat. “You should never feel embarrassed. Besides, people do crazy things when it comes to love.” 

Her head snapped up. “I don’t love him.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “No. Not anymore. I did. And I will certainly always care about him, but...but I have not loved him for a long time.” She let out a shaky breath. “He may have loved me, once. But it was not enough. You don’t abandon the people you love.” 

Glancing up, she saw Azriel staring at her with an intensity only he could give. The kind of stare that sent a rush of fire through her very veins.

Unbidden, memories of the night she’d been captured by Hybern came rushing back. Like her experience in the Cauldron, she tried to ignore those memories, tried to shove them down beneath repression and denial and all the other unhealthy coping mechanisms she knew would come back to bite her in the end. But such was trauma: it not only rearranged the pieces of you, but made you want to bury them all together.

The past few months, ever since the disaster that was Solstice, she’d tried to convince herself that Azriel wasn’t all that good. He was selfish. He led her on. She didn’t want someone so secretive nor delusive. She deserved much more than a male who pined after one of his closest friends for nearly his entire existence. And especially after the necklace...well, it had been simpler just to pretend that Azriel was not who she wanted. Not who she deserved.

But he came that night. He had not abandoned her. 

It was something she was not able to forget. 

“I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you for that night. In Hybern’s camp. For rescuing me. For putting yourself at such risk.” She swallowed heavily. Blinked away the emotion that clouded her vision. 

“You do not have to thank me,” he said quietly. 

“Of course I do. You saved my life. You and Feyre. You came for me and almost died because of it.” She had to pause a moment to mentally steel herself for what she knew she needed to say next. “I wasn’t myself then. I was...grieving. It’s not an excuse, but I was. And because of it, I made some very foolish mistakes that put you and others in harm's way. I am so eternally sorry for that. The guilt I feel over that night…” She closed her eyes. “I could live a thousand centuries and still, I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough. Wouldn’t be able to repay you for the gift you gave.” 

When she finally opened her eyes, the Shadowsinger was staring at her with more emotion than she’d ever seen on his devastating face before. It made him look all the more beautiful, all the more raw and ruinous. Mighty, onyx wings rose and fell behind him, the cadence a comfort to the tempest of emotions spinning through her.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to say. He wanted to tell her how she should never apologize to him. That the sadness she’d been drowning in was certainly not something she should ever feel sorry for. But he didn’t know how to tell her that. Couldn’t take this relief of guilt away from her. If anyone knew how important it was to grant yourself forgiveness, it was him.

“I’d do it again,” He said throatily, ferocity burning in his eyes.“I could live a thousand centuries and I’d do it again, every single time.”

She smiled, then, wide and uninhibited, blinking back her tears. “I know,” She replied. 

And she did know. Azriel was brave and loyal and true, and she was lucky to have a friend like him. Glad that she could count on having him in her corner.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, and Elain suddenly felt a surge of power within her. Her magic was swirling toward the surface, pushing against her bones and skin, trying to tell her something...but although she was braver, although she was bolder, this was still not something she was ready to face. Whatever it was.

She changed the subject, instead.

“That language you spoke to your mother earlier. What was it? Illyrian?”

“No. Illyrians speak the common tongue. My mother, though she was born in Illyria, lived most of her early life across the sea in Pentalos. Her father was unlike other Illyrian males at the time and believed that females should be treated equal to males. So he wanted her to grow up somewhere where women were treated equally. She grew up learning Pentalian, and as a result, so did I.”

“Why did she come back to Illyria?” Elain asked. 

Azriel’s face grew tighter. “Both of her parents died. She was young when they passed, her three brothers even younger, and she couldn’t find work in Pentalos at her age. She had some family in Illyria, an aunt and uncle, that she believed would help them. Instead, they sent her brothers to Ironcrest immediately, and clipped my mother’s wings.”

Elain couldn’t stop her gasp. She covered her mouth with her hands. “That is…” She could not find the words to express her horror. 

Shadows rose like smoke as Azriel nodded in response, eyes burning with unbridled rage. “Yes. It is. And unfortunately, her story gets even worse. After they cut her wings, she couldn’t leave Illyria, not unless someone else flew her away. So she stayed, and helped her aunt and uncle with the inn they owned, earning a meager weekly wage. Her brothers would visit from time to time, but each time they did, they were...harder. Less like her brothers and more like mindless soldiers.

By the time she was 18, her brothers had stopped visiting all together. She was still working long hours at the inn, still getting paid like shit, and lonely as one can be. That’s when he came.”

“He?” Elain asked quietly, though a part of her already knew the answer.

“My father,” Azriel said, and it was impossible to miss the positively wicked gleam in his eyes. “He came to stay at the inn one night. My mother was immediately entranced by him. His status...his charming personality...his kindness.” His nostrils flared at the last word.

“And so he bedded her that night, and for many nights after that. But a few months after their affair began, she found out she was pregnant with me. When she told my father, he hit her so hard she lost a tooth.”

Disgust rose in her, and she felt sick to her stomach.

Rolling his shoulders, Azriel focused on a spot in the distance, as if unable to meet her eyes. 

“The day I was born,” Azriel said quietly, his entire body still except for his mouth as he spoke,”the midwife told my mother she should throw me off the cliff and be done with it. Bastards aren’t uncommon in Illyria, but it was clear that I was very powerful, even from birth. The midwife knew that trouble would follow me wherever I went. And so she warned my mother against raising me.

My mother, of course, didn’t plan to throw me off a cliff,” He tossed her a forced smile that Elain found she couldn’t return. “She planned to keep me herself and raise me. But my father...he had a twisted sense of honor, if I’d even go so far to call it that. More likely he just couldn’t stand the thought of having a bastard son out of his range of control--especially a bastard son who happened to be innately powerful. So he told my mother that he would raise me, that I would come live with him and his real family.” Scarred hands clenched together tightly, and she fought the urge to reach out and grab them. 

“He took you from your mother?” Elain asked quietly. 

“Yes,” he said, voice cold and final as death, “and then he stuck me in the cellar basement for the next 11 years. I was allowed to go outside for one hour a day and to see my mother for one hour a week.”

Elain inhaled sharply. She’d known about some of his past, from Feyre and Rhys, but hadn’t known specifics. Hadn’t known he was trapped in that hell for eleven years. How had he survived that sort of abuse?

“That’s when my shadows came to me. While I lived life in a dark basement, they were my only companions. My friends. When my father discovered I was a shadowsinger, he punished me. Greatly.”

Elain’s small hands were curled into fists on her lap.

“Truth be told, my father was not the worst one. It was my step-mother. And my half-brothers. They all...they all just hated me, hated me for being a bastard, for being unworthy of the family name.” His chest heaved as he spoke. “For being a constant and unwelcome reminder of what my father had done with my mother. Despised me for absolutely nothing.” He spat out the last word like it was a curse.

When Azriel finally met her eyes, Elain had to fight back tears. She had never seen Azriel so upset, so emotional, and she couldn’t think what else to do but to listen. To take whatever pieces of his pain that she could and carry them. So she just looked at him, nothing but openness in her heart and a willingness to share in his burden. And to her slight surprise, he continued.

“I could have taken it, I think. All the hell they gave me. The hell they kept me in. Even...even the day with the flames,” Azriel whispered, his mutilated hands shaking. Elain closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the horror and rage she was feeling. She felt a warm tingling sensation in her hands and knew they had begun to glow. 

“But after that day, when my mother next saw me...” His voice grew even darker. Elain controlled herself enough to open her eyes, to meet his intense gaze. “When she saw my hands, she was furious. She told my father and step-mother she was going to the High Lord. Told them that torturing a child who had not even begun his warrior training--who was also not allowed to train, was not even allowed to learn how to fly --was a crime. And she told them she would make my half-brothers pay for what they had done to me.”

The darkness in Azriel’s eyes became something different, then. It hardened, became brittle and harrowing at the same time. 

“So they cut out her tongue to ensure she wouldn’t say a word. Ever again.” 

This time, Elain did not try to stop the tears as they streamed down her face. Watched as Azriel dropped to his knees.

The trees around them were suddenly cast in flashing blue light as his siphons flickered uncontrollably, the glow heightening with his anger. The forest itself seemed to respond to Azriel’s rage, a primal force that drove birds out of the tallest oaks, sent rabbits dashing away and shook the very earth beneath them. Shadows whipped around him so fast he became encased in a sphere of his own obsidian shade. But with the glow of the siphons, she could make out the way his exquisite face twisted in such devastating pain, and found herself approaching him.

The Shadowsinger, renowned and feared across all of Prythian. The cold and callous Spymaster of the Night Court. The warrior who stayed up listening to her talk about gardens, and rescued her from Hybern, and brought her to this secret haven of his in her time of need. The dark, tortured, cruelly complicated, crucially kind and magnificently intricate male before her. 

Her friend, who right now, needed to know he was not alone.

She knelt before him and cupped his face in her still-glowing hands. 

***

The effect was immediate. The second Elain’s hands touched him, his shadows calmed, his siphons stopped glowing, and the forest returned to its peaceful self. Now, all that could be heard was his heavy breathing and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Elain continued to hold his face as he stared at her, something bright and pure cutting through the grief he felt. He felt...lighter. 

“It’s not your fault,” Elain murmured.

How she had known he felt that way, he’d never know. But she was right. Ever since they’d maimed his mother, he had held himself responsible. It was his hands that had led her to confront his father in the first place. He should have made up some lie, pretended to have tripped into the fire or something. Anything to keep her from the cruelty she endured. 

“It’s not your fault, Azriel,” Elain said again. “You are not to blame.” 

Her voice was sweeter than honey, softer than down. It soothed some jagged part of his heart. And for the first time since his mother’s maiming, Azriel felt clean. Felt absolved of the unjustified and unfair guilt he had placed on himself. 

A tear slid down his cheek. Elain wiped it away gently with her thumb. Her hands were no longer glowing, but a comforting warmth lingered. 

For a long moment, they stared at each other. Azriel thought he could stay like this forever, just drinking in the remarkable creation that was Elain Archeron. When she began to pull away, some instinct made him reach and grab one of her hands, bringing it back to his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and pressed his lips to her palm. It was chaste, it was short, but Azriel thought it was the most intoxicating kiss of his life. 

Elain was staring at him like she’d never seen him before. A deep blush stained her cheekbones, a beautiful crimson glow against the alabaster delicacy of her skin. 

Behind them, someone cleared their throat.

They broke apart quickly. Rozaliah was standing in the entrance of the clearing, a knowing smile gracing her face. 

“Mother,” Azriel said, standing up. Hesitating slightly, he held out a hand to Elain. She took it, and he tried to ignore the charged jolt that went through his entire body at the gesture, at her touch. 

The moment she was standing, she dropped his hand and walked forward. 

“Your garden is beautiful,” Elain said as she approached his mother. “I am a gardener myself, but have never seen anything like this. It is uninhibited in its beauty, honest in its narrative. It’s phenomenal. And the Night Roses...I have never been able to grow them, can never quite get the timing right. You are incredibly talented.” Genuinity rang in every syllable she spoke.

Azriel watched as his mother smiled wider than he’d seen in years. Watched as she held out a frail hand to Elain, who grabbed it lightly after a moment of hesitation. Watched as his mother led Elain to the nearby Night Rose bush and began to mime with her hands the proper way to plant, tend and care for the flowers. Watched as Elain tucked a piece of honey-colored hair behind her pointed ear, listening intently and asking questions periodically for Rozaliah to answer with gestures and demonstrations. His mother answered them eagerly, and when Elain wasn’t looking, shot him a glance. Rozaliah’s eyebrow was raised and she was smirking slightly.

And he knew then that he was absolutely fucked.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Learning to Swim

Request: (whenever you have time of course.) What about a post-war draco malfoy x reader where after astoria dies draco and scorpius are left alone for a couple years then he sees y/n a friend from Hogwarts and they fall in love again (you can decide how). this is my vision and I'm a sucker for post-war fics with draco. 🥺💕 - @obx-beach

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQUEST SO MUCH. Thank you so much for requesting it and for trusting me with your request! It got away from me but I really wanted to explore this idea in depth because for me, anyway, grief isn't something that disappears over time, but rather, becomes bearable. Please read the warnings before reading, I cover some heavy topics. As always, I hope you like it!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy talk of grief and loss, some swearing, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, mentions of ghosts, a very cheesy ending.

Word count: 11.9k

Draco so rarely finds peace nowadays; a consequence of a confidently walking toddler who’s penchant for curiosity has him grabbing at what he can – the paper, the rug, the dog’s tail.

Draco so rarely find peace nowadays, but once a week, on a Saturday, he drops Scorpius off at his parents. His mother and father doting over the blonde-haired boy who looks more like his mother everyday despite the argument from Narcissa – “He has your nose, Draco!”

On the days he drops his son off at the manor, he apparates to the familiar black gates. They squeak whenever he opens them and no matter how many times he visits, he never remembers to bring the oil he promises to fetch.

Now, he doesn’t look at the names as he makes his way towards the familiar row, hands in his pockets, shoes sinking in the wet grass.

Before, he’d drag his feet. Reading every name he could as he struggled to come to terms with his disbelief and grief.

The granite headstone sits prettily above its plot; the marker for Draco to slow his pace to an amble.

She had died a Malfoy but had been buried in the Greengrass plot.

Draco had known of Astoria Greengrass for years; had been schooled with her sister but had known the family personally for years due to similar social circles, and as a result, social functions. Draco spent ball after ball getting to know the younger Greengrass sister much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson who still held a candle for Draco since their fling ended in Fifth Year.

He worked up the nerve to ask Astoria to dinner after a particularly hellish function where his father had pushed him to dance with every available girl that looked his way. For the most part, Draco accepted – wanting to keep his father happy and his mother hopeful. But through every dance, through every twirl on the floor, his eyes would wander back to where Astoria sat very intently focused on the napkin design.

On his third circuit of the dancefloor, Draco broke away from his dance partner earning a glare for his disrespect. He apologised with a smile but turned to the brunette sitting alone; he held his hand to her, and she took it with the grace of a well-raised daughter.

They span around the dancefloor; circle after circle after circle. They laughed, and they smiled, and they settled into a happy silence. One Draco felt so comfortable in that by the time they had finished their second dance together, Draco was certain he wanted to marry her.

By the end of the night, Astoria knew she wanted to marry him.

They were married less than six months after that night.

Three months after they were married, Astoria announced her pregnancy. Rumours started; stating that was the real cause for their quick wedding. But their families knew different; their families spent the entirety of the pregnancy wrapped in a cocoon of worry.

Then blood curse on the Greengrass family meant that Astoria would die at a young age, and Draco had prepared himself for that. Though, in private, he researched what he could to see if he could break the blood curse. This meant, however, the pregnancy was watched closely by Narcissa, by Daphne, and by multiple Healers flooed in from St Mungos.

Nine months later, on an unusually warm day in January, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born. Immediately, Draco knew that though he had his hair, Scorpius had his mother’s eyes and mouth.

Three hours after the birth of her son; as she held him tightly in her arms, watching him with the love only a mother could know, Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass took her last breath.

-----------

The months after her death, Draco barely coped. He woke up in the mornings solely for Scorpius and Scorpius alone. He devoted his time to his son, marking every milestone in his baby scrapbook which on occasion he would take to his wife’s grave and go through it with her. Scorpius never visited the grave; for starters, he was too young, Draco wouldn’t let his son go through that but his son knew that his mother was no longer with them.

But that didn’t stop Scorpius asking for his mother after a nightmare had pulled him from sleep.

Narcissa tried to help; tried everything she could to help with his grief – at one point even suggesting he go see a psychic, but the fear of transference was enough to put Draco off the idea.

He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that he didn’t need a psychic to tell him Astoria had made it to the other side and that she had found peace.

She haunted him nearly every night.

Flashes of her white night gown in the corner of his eye; glimpses of her beautiful face in the mirror.

His heart would race, and his palms would sweat as the panic set in.

For a long while, he believed himself to be going insane. The sheer grief he felt at the loss of his wife driving him to madness as though he were Heathcliff suffering the loss of his Cathy.

------

Draco had memorised the inscription on her headstone after visiting for a month straight.

He had memorised the path to her grave by the end of the first week; the soil still needing to settle.

His feet knew where the uneven ground would be, so it was all dodged expertly.

Draco has very little to say to Astoria when he kneels in front of her. He updates her on Scorpius; promises that he will bring him soon, but it was still too early for his son to see his mother.

In fact, most of his time at the grave is spent in silence. His knees soaking wet from the morning dew still covering the grass.

“Draco? Is that you?” A chiming voice asks as Draco’s head remains bent over his wife’s grave. He releases a sigh before looking up to see that it’s you – someone he hasn’t seen in years. The last he saw of you; you were stood defiantly facing the hordes of Death Eaters in courtyard at Hogwarts.

“(Y/N)?” He asks.

You frown, pointing towards the grave where his wife lies in perpetual sleep, “I heard, but I didn’t believe. I’m sorry for your loss, Draco.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Why are you here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You hold the flowers in your hand up in response, “I lost my grandfather less than a year back. I visit every week.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. He was a great man.” Draco murmurs, shame washing over him from his curt tone.

“Thank you,” You murmur quietly, “It’s still hard.”

Draco wants to offer words of comfort; to tell you that pain eases over time, but he would be lying to your face. The pain doesn’t ease, and the grief doesn’t lessen, it simply moves to one side and becomes bearable until something reminds you of the one you’ve lost whether it be a sound or a smell and then the pain washes over you like a tidal wave and you start to wonder whether you’ll come up for air or simply drown.

Draco decides not to say anything; turning back to face the woman he had pledged his life too.

You walk away after a slow nod; you wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.

-----

They say that time heals, that grief lessens, but it doesn’t.

Draco loves his son; he adores his son, but he cannot help but see him as a reminder of what he lost on the day of his birth.

He had gained a son; an heir to carry on the Malfoy name but he had lost the love of his life.

Draco leaves the graveyard soon after his encounter with you; feeling surly with how he had spoken to you.

He searches you before he leaves, but he finds you knelt at the grave of your grandfather with your head bent as the silent sobs rack your body.

He leaves you to your privacy; understanding that right now, intrusion is the last thing needed.

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

Draco sits in the living room of his marital home that night; a tumbler of whisky in his hand as he leans back in the chesterfield armchair gifted to him by his parents as part of their wedding present.

The wedding present being the house.

There are reminders of Astoria all over the house; from the pattern of the curtains to her photos lining the walls. She was everywhere. How was he was supposed to start living his life when his house remained a mausoleum?

He feels the hand on his shoulder; he doesn’t need to turn to see who it is.

“You need to stop doing this, Draco,” She murmurs.

He sighs through his nose, “I don’t see why.”

“You’re hurting everyone around you; you didn’t use to be like this.”

“It’s been a trying time, love.”

“I know it has. For both you and Scorpius, but it’s been three years, darling.”

The air in the room has become cold; too cold. To the point where his breath has started to fog; he takes a sip of the amber liquid to warm his body through.

“I can’t forget you, I won’t. He has no memories of you; he needs me to remember you.”

The voice behind him shakes, “My love, you’ll never forget me. I live on in him.”

Draco doesn’t say anything; the lump in his throat making it impossible for him to speak. The absolute yearning with him has him reaching up to take the hand settled on his shoulder.

The tears start to fall when his hand falls through the ghostly spectre.

-----

Morning comes and Draco wakes in the same chair he had fallen asleep in. He scratches at the stubble lining his face as he stretches his legs, bones popping as he stands to full height.

The clock on the mantle chimes seven times and Draco supposes he should start the day and collect his son from the Manor. He hadn’t been in any state last night to have him at home; it was better for Scorpius to stay with his grandparents.

The light to the bathroom flickers as Draco drags himself into the shower; the hot water and lavender shower gel doing a good job at leeching the tension that had become set into his shoulders.

He wipes the steam from the mirror before lathering his face with shaving cream and beginning the soothing action of shaving. Narcissa preferred him clean shaven anyway; believed that the stubble made him look like a vagrant.

A flash of white in the corner of his eye has Draco freezing with the razor halfway to his cheek.

His hand begins to shake, and he places the razor back in the sink as he braces himself on the counter. He counts to ten before he dares to look back up at himself in the mirror.

He was being haunted.

------

In the years after the Second Wizarding War, Narcissa had taken it upon herself to entirely renovate Malfoy Manor from the dark, dank place it was to make it more of a home for her family. A home in which Draco should have been raised in.

Narcissa greets him at the door with a kiss on the cheek and a concerned look that only a mother could pull off.

“Good Morning Mother, how are we today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you looked better. Did you get any sleep?”

Draco nods, thinking to the few hours in the armchair, “I got some.”

“Not enough by the looks of it, but at least you shaved. Have you eaten yet?”

He shakes his head, “I came straight here.”

“Luckily for you, Scorp is still eating.”

Draco hangs his coat on the grand railing by the door before following his mother through his childhood home.

His son beams at the sight of his father walking through the door, “Dad!” he yells, dropping his piece of fruit and jumping off his chair. He runs to Draco, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Draco chuckles, picking his son up, settling him on his waist, “Hey there squirt, did you have a nice night with granny and grandpa?”

Scorpius nods, still chewing his last piece of breakfast, “Yeah, me and granny baked, and she let me eat the mix!”

Narcissa lets out an overdramatic gasp, “That was our secret, Scorp!”

Scorpius laughs at his granny’s reaction, “I had to tell Dad!”

Draco tickles his son’s stomach; grinning at the laughter leaving his son’s mouth.

He had never known a world with his mother; and he never would, yet here he was as happy as any three year old could be.

“Are you joining us, Draco?” His father’s voice sounds; breaking Draco from his melancholy.

Draco clears his throat, letting Scorpius down so he can sit next to Narcissa at the table, “Yes, I think I will.”

Anything to not go back to the house so soon; anything to avoid seeing her in the corner of his eye or in the mirrors.

Narcissa nails him with a look she has made entirely her own after dealing with a supremacist order for over a decade.

Draco wavers under his mother’s stare; ready to drop the pretence and cry in her arms.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs the bowl of strawberries and scoops a spoonful onto his plate before reaching for a waffle and grabbing his knife and fork.

“Lucius, darling, why don’t you show Scorpius your matchbox collection? I know he’d love them.”

“What are matched boxes?” Scorpius asks.

Narcissa laughs lightly at her grandson’s pronunciation, “Match boxes, sweetheart.”

Lucius stands from the table; knowing very well what the determined look in his wife’s eyes meant, “Come on, my boy. I’ll show you my collection; I want to see if you can count how many there are.”

Scorpius’ eyes light up at the chance to make his grandfather proud; he jumps down from the chair before reaching to grab Lucius’ hand. Together, they leave the dining room, Lucius prattling about the history of the match box and why they needed to be collected.

Narcissa waits until they’re out of earshot before turning on her son who on the outside, almost pulled off looking so put together. Inside, she knew, was a broken man desperate to find a way to lessen the pain.

“It’s been three years, darling.”

“I know,” Draco answers; resisting the urge to groan.

“How often are you visiting her?”

“Once a week now.”

There was a point in the first months after her death where Draco would visit the graveyard every day for hours. He didn’t even say anything; he just sat on the perfectly trimmed grass in front of her grave and sobbed for the life that had been lost and the future that had been robbed.

Narcissa nods, “That’s good, Draco.”

Draco nods; he had gotten better in the years since her passing but Narcissa would never understand what it feels like to lose a spouse a year into a marriage that should have lasted an eternity.

Narcissa sighs, “Do you think it’s time now?”

“Time for what?” He asks; voice hard.

“To think about finding somebody else? I’m not saying you need to do it right now, Draco, but it’s something to think about.”

Draco sees red, but he tries to keep a lid on his temper for the simple fact that it is his mother sitting in front of him, “I lost my wife, mother. She died giving birth to my son; your grandson. She died and now Scorpius doesn’t have a mother and I don’t have my wife standing beside me. I think I’ll take all the time I need to recover from this.”

Narcissa sighs, “Of course, Draco. You know I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Draco rubs at his eyes; feeling wretched for the way he had spoken to his mother. She barely left his side after Astoria’s death; she had been the one to pull him away from her body.

“I’m sorry, mother. It was a tough night.��

“You’re having a lot of those, I’ve noticed.”

Draco’s lip begins to wobble, and he thanks Merlin that Scorpius is out of the room, so he didn’t have to watch his father fall to pieces.

Narcissa folds her son into her arms with the care only a mother could show. She strokes his hair as he sobs against her.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Draco sobs.

“Neither did we, my love.”

-----

Draco feels better after talking to his mother. Lucius returned fairly quickly after Draco had dried his eyes; Scorpius following on his tail, chattering about what he planned to do when he returned home.

Draco opens his arms for his son who happily falls into them; preferring to be carried rather than walking unless he was running around the gardens or the park.

“Do you have everything you need?” Draco asks his son.

Scorpius nods as Lucius holds up the small overnight bag that holds his clothes, pyjamas and his priceless teddy, Wellesley. It was the first thing Astoria brought when she found out she was pregnant. Scorpius treasured it like nothing else.

Draco takes the bag from his father; well aware of the extra treats hidden there. Scorpius had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wrapped around his little finger.

After they apparate home, Lucius and Narcissa watch the spot in which their son and grandson disappeared. Hands clutching the other; both worried sick over their only son.

-----

He fills his week with his son; adventures, hide-and-seek, visits to the library. Draco makes sure Scorpius fills his day with activities designed to educate but to also have fun.

It’s also a way for Draco to keep his mind drifting to the one person who no matter how he often prays and wishes, will always remain absent.

The park is one of Scorpius’ favourite places to visit. He has a personal aim to swing as high as he can without giving his father a heart attack.

They spend their hours doing all sorts together, and every night before bed, Draco tucks Scorpius in tightly. Dropping a kiss to his son’s head and then his teddy’s head, Draco wishes Scorpius the sweetest of dreams.

On a night, Draco lets the memories of his short marriage consume him. He doesn’t wear his wedding ring on his finger anymore, but rather, attached to a chain he wears around his neck. He twists this chain for hours on a night thinking of the mother that Astoria never got the chance to be.

------

Draco’s visit to the graveyard is shorter this week on account of what happened last time. He knew what happened in the living room was down to the fact that he had spent too much time at her grave, lamenting how much he missed her.

It was expected that she would answer his calls.

So he resolves to make this visit shorter; long enough to clean the area and replace the flowers but short enough to not tempt fate and spectres.

Draco recounts to her tales of Scorpius’ week. Draco laughs and beams like a proud father when he tells the story of Scorpius adopting the family of Nifflers from their copse at the bottom of the garden. He had been so proud of himself; walking all the way back to the house with a four Nifflers in tow who had deemed Scorpius as one their own.

“You’d have thought he was a Scamander,” Draco laughs, patting the loose grass from his suit pants. “I think he could very well excel at Care of Magical Creatures but it’s too soon to tell, my dear.”

Eventually, Draco stands, wiping down his black suit trousers and whispering a goodbye.

Draco is a few steps away from the black, creaky gate when you bustle through; bouquet in hand, sad smile on your face.

You pause in the gateway when you see Draco standing before you.

“(Y/N),” Draco greets, “I was hoping to catch you. I wanted to apologise for how I spoke to you the last time I saw you.”

“Draco, there’s nothing to apologise for. You’re mourning your wife; the last thing you need is someone invading that space.”

“All the same, I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

“I accept your apology, Draco.”

“Would you like to join me for a coffee? It’s been years since I saw you last, and I think it would be nice to catch up.”

You glance between the flowers in your hand and Draco waiting patiently for an answer.

“It’s okay if you don’t. I understand if you want to be with your grandfather.”

You bite your lip, glancing back to the flowers, “Do you want to come with me? All I need to is say hello and change the flowers. You don’t have to, though.”

Draco shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. I’ve had my visit today, so I don’t mind waiting with you.”

You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you; he’s just this way.”

Draco follows you as you walk the well-trodden path to your grandfather’s grave. He doesn’t let himself think as he follows, and as a result, almost bumps into you when you stop in front of a grey granite headstone.

“Hi Grandad,” You greet, “I’ve brought someone with me today, I hope you don’t mind. I’m just changing your flowers though because then we’re going to get coffee.”

You turn your attention to Draco when you finish speaking, “It’s morbid I know but it helps me process. I know he isn’t hearing me, but I can vent here and somehow I always find a solution to my problem.”

Draco nods, “I do the same with Astoria. I tell her about Scorpius and her parents though I know they visit just as much.”

You smile at the blonde-haired man before discarding the dried out flowers to one side, replacing them with the fresher, brighter flowers.

Draco watches you through the process; not missing the way your eyes dart between the headstone and to something just past it.

For a brief moment, Draco wonders if you’re being haunted too.

-----

The coffee shop is warm compared to the brisk wind that howls outside. Draco’s body relaxes as he takes in the familiar scent of bitter coffee beans; it was a recent love of his, but now, he wouldn’t find himself going a day without a cup of the acrid liquid.

You unravel the scarf hanging around your neck before taking a seat at a corner table, “I didn’t think it would be this cold today. It makes me glad I overdressed,” you chuckle.

Draco laughs politely; his own coat now hanging on the back of his chair.

You smile, “Do you know what you want? I’ll go order.”

“Nonsense, I’ll order, I invited you here.”

“Well I won’t turn down free coffee, I’ll have a latte please.”

“I’ll be right back,” is all he says before leaving the table to order.

As the drinks are being made by the teenaged barista, Draco starts to second-guess his intentions for why he asked you for coffee in the first place. All week the conversation he had with his mother had been replaying in his mind, and then he runs into you as he’s leaving the graveyard. Before he knew it, the words were flying out of his mouth and he was unable to stop them.

He’s panicking, but he doesn’t find himself regretting asking you.

He’s only regretting his intentions as to why he asked you.

He’s been alone for three years. He has Scorpius, and his parents, but he doesn’t have anyone he can talk to on a night when the air is quiet, and the moon is high. He doesn’t have that one person that he can simply hold and know that everything will be okay.

Then and there, he lets himself admit it: he’s lonely.

Astoria had been everything for the eighteen months they had been together. He was utterly devoted to her; completely besotted by her. Draco knew that he had found the love of his life; he just didn’t expect her to be taken from him so soon.

But still he wonders.

He wonders if it’s time; he wonders whether Astoria watches him and urges him to find someone new.

To feel that rush of falling in love all over again.

The clinking of mugs rips Draco from his internal debating. He thanks the barista with a smile, picking up the tray of drinks and walking carefully back to where you wait for him.

You thank him as you pick up your latte, “You looked to be thinking pretty intensely over there.”

“You were watching me?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “I got bored of the view of the café.”

Draco nods; sipping tentatively at his coffee, wincing before adding another sugar to taste.

“What were you thinking of? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I was thinking of Astoria,” he admits.

You simply nod your head; understanding completely that a widow would think of his loss.

“How are you coping with her loss? It’s been a few years now, hasn’t it?”

“I could ask you the same question about your grandfather,” Draco murmurs, “We’re coping okay. Scorpius is thriving; he’s such a smart three year old and I know I’m biased but he retains information like a sponge.”

You laugh, “I was going to ask you about your son, I’m glad to hear he’s happy.”

“He doesn’t have any memories of his mother, but he knows who she is. He has a framed picture of her in his room that he says goodnight to every night.”

“He sounds precious, Draco.”

Draco nods; thinking of his dear boy, “He is. And I know she’s proud of him, I just feel it in my bones.”

“I’ll bet my last sickle that she’s proud of you too.”

Draco blinks fast; ridding the sudden tears away. “Thank you,” he whispers, taking another drink of his coffee to distract from the sudden wave of emotion.

He clears his throat once the wave has passed, “I asked you here to catch up; not for me to ruin the mood with my grief. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the war.”

“You can talk to me about this, Draco, I don’t mind,” You state before continuing, “I’ve been well – I travelled a lot after the war. The whole realisation of life is short really hit me, so I left the country for a bit; travelled through Europe before jumping ship to America.”

Draco’s eyes widen, “That’s incredible. Where was your favourite place to travel?”

You glare at him playfully, “That’s such a hard question!”

He laughs lightly, “Still – you have to answer.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, thinking his question over. You had loved everywhere you visited; feeling extremely fortunate to have met such a range of magical communities as well as integrate yourself within muggle society for a time.

“I think it would have to be this tiny island in Greece; it is said that in ancient times, the locals believed it was the end of the world, and if you went any further, you would fall off. I stayed there the longest; around a month where I explored the island, ate their food, and drank with the locals. It was the best time of my life.”

Draco inhales sharply at your words; not realised that he’s instinctively leaned towards you through your speech. He leans back into his chair, running a hand through his hair, “It sounds wonderful,” he whispers.

You nod; eyes glazed somewhat as you think back to your time on that heavenly island, “It really was.”

You shake yourself from your reminiscing, “What about you then, Draco? I know about the wedding, and your son, but what did you do after the war?”

Draco waves his hand in a nonchalant fashion, “Nothing as wonderful as travelling the globe though I did go to France on my honeymoon. I trained as a Healer straight from Hogwarts; I’ve been at St. Mungo’s since Scorpius was born.”

“That’s great, Draco! I always knew you would make a great Healer ever since I saw you in Potions.”

Draco ducks his head, “Thank you, I enjoy the work. Are you working now?”

You nod your head, “I work for the Daily Prophet; writing real articles and not the trollop that Rita Skeeter used to waffle on about.”

Draco barks out a laugh, surprising himself at the volume of it, “I remember her coverage of the Triwizard Tournament! It was so awful.”

You beam; eyes bright with joy, “Weren’t they? I promise I’m a much better writer… not to sound big-headed.”

“I completely believe you; I’ll have to start keeping an eye out for your articles. I haven’t read the paper in so long. I haven’t had the time if I’m honest – I get my news from my mother.”

“How are your parents? I heard about them after the war.”

“Mother coped so well. She made it her mission to entirely renovate the house, and with it, the Malfoy reputation. She donates to charities now; her focus is children orphaned during the war. Father struggled, but he’s found his purpose for life again in Scorpius. Last time I was there, he showed him his collection of matchboxes.”

You laugh lightly, “That’s brilliant. I’m glad to hear that they’re doing well.”

“How is your family? I remember your mother from Kings Cross, always running to meet you off the train.”

“She’s doing okay,” You sigh, “She struggled after my grandfather but she’s working her way back to herself.”

Draco nods in understanding; he felt nothing but pride and a sting of jealously for your mothers process with her grief. Here he was, three years later, and still reaching out to the other side of bed only to grasp at empty, cold sheets.

However, as all things must, your time together comes to an end. The coffees are drank; coats are pulled back on and goodbyes are said on the pavement.

Draco walks away from you; apparating back to his home feeling lighter than he has in years.

------

Draco takes Scorpius to Diagon Alley on a Wednesday morning.

His son had been particularly restless the night before; a nightmare waking him. Draco does what he can to chase the monsters away before scooping up his only son and carrying him to the master bedroom. Scorpius sleeps soundly after that, but Draco remains awake – mind plaguing him with memories of Astoria but also of the coffee he shared with you.

It’s noon when Scorpius begins to pester his father for lunch. In his own words; he’s starving, and he hasn’t eaten in hours.

Draco laughs at his son. Three years old, but utterly dramatic. He kneels down so he’s eye-level, “How about we have ice cream for lunch?”

Scorpius’ face lights up and he begins to jump in his spot, “Can we go now? Please?”

Draco nods, holding out his hand for Scorpius take so he doesn’t get lost in the short distance to Florean Fortescue’s. He had lost him once; and whilst it was only two minutes before he found him, it was two minutes, he never wants to relive.

Draco lifts Scorpius so he can see the rows of flavours behind the glass. Scorpius’ eyes are wide as he checks the colour of every flavour. He even goes so far to press his face to the glass, fogging it up. Draco chuckles at his son’s antics; knowing full well he’ll pick the same flavour he’s gotten on every visit.

“Have you decided?”

Scorpius nods, “Chocolate please.”

Draco places Scorpius on the ground, “One chocolate tub, and one caramel fudge swirl tub please.”

Florean nods at the young Malfoy family with a large smile; watching them sit down at a window table before bringing their ice creams to them.

Scorpius attacks his chocolate tub with ferocity. Draco touches his son’s hand, “Slow down, squirt. You’ll get stomach ache.”

Scorpius looks as if he doesn’t believe his father’s word but not wanting to risk the chance of a stomach ache, he slows his pace. Carefully scooping the frozen treat before eating. His legs swing as he watches the scores of witches and wizards passing; they all look to be hurrying somewhere yet Scorpius doesn’t know where, but seeing all the different people, keeps his attention squarely on the window.

Draco works his way through his ice cream faster than his son; his weakness being the caramel fudge swirl that Florean makes fresh every day. He settles for drifting once his tub is empty and Scorpius is happily distracted by whatever he’s watching out of the window.

Draco begins to wonder about his son’s future – something he’s done a thousand times since his birth. He wonders about what Hogwarts house would best fit his sons personality; though he knew that the Sorting Hat would be the final word on that. But Draco can’t help but ponder over what attributes his son will demonstrate – will he ambitious enough for Slytherin? Courageous enough for Gryffindor? Loyal enough for Hufflepuff? Creative enough for Ravenclaw?

He had eight more years to ponder over it, but it’s still a question he’d like answered. However, Draco would still adore his son no matter his house.

“Draco?” Your voice sounds, breaking him out of his deliberating.

“(Y/N),” He greets.

Scorpius turns from people-watching, taking in the visitor standing at their table.

“And you must be Scorpius, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

Scorpius shies away slightly from the new person, inching back a bit in his chair.

“It’s okay, Scorpius,” Draco reassures, “I went to school with (Y/N).”

You nod, “I did! I was in Slytherin with him, and he was so smart! He still is; he’s a Healer isn’t he? Isn’t that so cool?”

Draco blushes at your compliments but it brings Scorpius out of his shell.

“My dad is the coolest! He fixes people when they are very sick.”

You nod seriously, “Yes, he does. It was very nice to meet you, Scorpius but I have to get back to work with my ice cream.”

Scorpius smiles, his teeth on show, “Goodbye!”

“It was nice to see you, Draco,” You say, smiling at the blonde-haired man.

“It was nice to see you too, even if it was so brief.”

You laugh, “Work calls I’m afraid, but I always have an ice cream, so I wasn’t going to let work stop me,” You wander back to the counter where Florean waits with your cone, “I’ll also cover Draco’s bill too, Florean.”

“You don’t have to,” Draco begins to protest.

You hold your hand up, smiling gently, “You treated me to coffee. I’ll treat you to your ice cream.”

Draco nods, wordlessly. Scorpius watches him with his eyebrows furrowed.

You take a lick of your cone, “I’ll see you soon, Draco. Have a nice day, Scorpius!”

And like that, you leave the ice cream parlour, heading back to the office where a pile of work awaits.

Draco leans back in his chair, disbelief clear on his face.

“What’s wrong, dad?”

Draco shakes his head, “Nothing, squirt.”

Scorpius shrugs, determining it adult stuff. “I like the lady who spoke to us.”

“(Y/N)?”

Scorpius nods, “She was really nice.”

“She is. She was nice when we were at school together.”

“She’s a good friend.”

“She is,” Draco murmurs once again, mind in another place entirely.

Scorpius lets his father have his moment; turning back to the window, wondering if he might get to see the nice lady named (Y/N) again.

------

Two months pass, and January’s winter gives way to March’s spring.

The gardens at his home and at the Manor have started to bloom beautifully meaning that Draco is constantly surrounded by floral aromas that make his head spin and Scorpius sneeze.

Draco starts to see more and more of you at the graveyard. After each visit, you seem to wait for the other – always asking whether the other would like to go for a coffee; very rarely refusing the offer.

He enjoyed the time he spent with you; Draco felt like he got to make up for the lost time he was an arsehole at Hogwarts.

The more time he spent with you; the more he started to feel the urge to begin his life again. But the hauntings continue; he continues to see his wife in the mirror; hearing her voice on a night whispering to him that it’s okay to move on. But hearing those words from the mouth of the woman he promised an eternity with racks his entire body with guilt.

But it’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t want to stay away from you.

The more time you spend with Draco Malfoy; the more you can feel yourself fall for him – his smile, his eyes, his mind. You just hoped that the landing wasn’t going to be too rough.

------

Draco drops Scorpius off at the Manor before heading to the graveyard for his usual Saturday visit. He blindly hopes to see you again after running into you at the ice cream parlour and seldom seeing you after but refuses to let himself dwell too long on the hope.

He was visiting his dead wife, after all.

He still grieves for her; still reaches for her in the middle of the night, but there are times through the day where he doesn’t feel so weighed down by grief – where he feels as if he can begin functioning fully once again.

But then that brings the guilt.

And that leads to the sightings.

And then that leads to the visits.

It’s a vicious cycle, and he’s desperate to break it.

He knows logically that Astoria would always be a part of him; he sees her every time he lays eyes on Scorpius but the small voice in the back of his head tells him often that he isn’t ready to let go yet.

And all Draco is desperate to know is: when?

-----

You find him knelt before her grave. He’s silent; simply staring at her headstone, reading the words that are already seared into his mind: Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother.

You place your hand on his shoulder and he jumps at the sudden contact. He relaxes once he sees it’s you, “(Y/N),” he breathes out, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I can tell,” you murmur, “Are you okay?”

He nods silently; gazing at the headstone once again, “I will be.”

“I can stay with you, if you need me.”

He shakes his head, “Go. Go see your grandfather; tell him hi from me.”

You want to laugh but nothing comes out. Draco looks at you; his blue eyes bright, “I’ll be okay,” he says gently.

The softness of his voice has you stepping away, “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

Draco nods, hearing you walk away from him.

He’s a man made entirely of conflictions. He watches you from the corner of his eye and wonders whether he is finally ready to start his life again after Astoria; ready press play once more and see what happens but the sheer fear that runs through him, paralyses him.

He doesn’t know what to think; he doesn’t know what to do.

All he knows is that in the handful of times he has seen you, you make him want to live again.

----

Your time with your grandfather comes to an end, and you stand from where you had knelt, murmuring a goodbye.

You can’t miss the way Draco remains in front of his wife’s grave. Standing just after you; stretching out the tight muscles in his back that had stiffened the longer he had sat there.

You sigh at the sight; mindlessly wondering if you would ever find a love that would impact you this much.

It was unintentional; it hadn’t meant to happen but the feelings you once harboured for the Slytherin Prince were returning in full force the more you saw of him.

But now, there was so much more to consider.

At Hogwarts, it was social groups that kept you from ever revealing your crush – that, and Pansy Parkinson. Now, though, Draco was a widower still very much in love with his dead wife, and he had a son that came first.

You know you need to tread carefully, but there was something addicting about the man’s presence. His way with words; his hand gestures; how he’d slip off into his own mind – it all had you caught; you were hook, line, and sinker.

You make your way back to the blonde-haired man, “What do you say to another coffee? I wish I could have stayed longer the last time I saw you, but work, you know?”

Draco nods; looking very much as if he wants to accept – the words being on the very tip of his tongue, but he sighs heavily, “I can’t today, I need to grab my son from my parents.”

“Oh,” You shake your head – of course, “Another time then! I’d like to see you again soon.”

You make to walk away but a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, “Would you like to come with me? I need to grab Scorpius but we’re making dinner tonight and you’re welcome to join.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. Scorpius has been asking about you.”

That makes your decision for you, “Alright, I’ll join you for dinner.”

Draco smiles; letting go of his hold on your wrist, “I usually apparate to the manor, do you mind?”

You shake your head, placing a gentle hand on his outstretched arm.

Within a second, you’ve landed at the seat of Malfoy power for the last century. Draco was right you realise; Narcissa had lightened the manor up. Flowers border the main path; stemming from Hyacinths to white Lilies, to Irises. Colour lives up the home immediately, and the warm light coming from the masses of windows only makes the place more welcoming.

“I remember visiting here when I was a youngster,” You start, “I remember it being cold and uninviting… no offence, but now it feels so warm and happy.”

“That’s my mother’s influence,” Draco states; smiling wryly at the sight of all the flowers, knowing too well of the masses of Roses behind the manor.

Draco sounds the knocker three times before Narcissa pulls open the door with the smile reserved only for her son. She blinks twice before registering your presence; then she needs to do a double take.

“Afternoon, Mother,” Draco greets; leaning in to kiss her cheek which Narcissa returns distractedly – her eyes still on you.

“Draco, dear,” She greets, “And who have you brought with you?”

“Straight to the crux, aren’t we?” Draco laughs, “This is (Y/N). Surely you remember her?”

“Not Anthony’s granddaughter?”

You nod your head; ignoring the spear of grief flung through you at the sound of your grandfather’s name, “The very same,” you greet, “It’s lovely to be here. I was just mentioning to Draco how gorgeous your flowers are.”

Narcissa beams; her flowers are her pride and joy other than the son who had battled so much and came out the other side only stronger. “Thank you, my dear. Lucius and I were so saddened to hear of Anthony’s passing – tell me, how is your mother doing?”

“Better, thank you. She took his death as a blow – well, we all did but she took it the hardest being the only daughter and losing my grandmother so young.”

Narcissa nods; ushering you into the foyer of the grand manor, “We sent flowers, but we’re sorry we couldn’t make it to the service.”

A lumps forms in your throat at the mention of the service. It had been a beautiful and respectful service, but your memories of it were tied with the heart-clenching sobs of your mother as he cried about how she missed her father. It was a hard day and night for all; very few had dry eyes.

Draco notices your hesitancy at replying to his mother; notices the glazed look in your eye. He wraps his arm around Narcissa’s shoulder, distracting her from asking you any more questions, “How was Scorpius today?”

“Like always, an angel,” Narcissa coos, “Lucius has started to teach him French.”

“French? So early?” Draco asks; keeping a wary eye on you.

“Nonsense, my love. You were three when we started to teach you the basics.”

“You speak French?” You ask; mind now focused back onto the conversation. You shoot a grateful look to draco; he replies with a soft, kind smile.

Narcissa nods, “Most of our family does. Draco has spoken French fluently since he was nine years old.”

“Oui, maman,” Draco responds cheekily.

Narcissa playfully hit her son’s shoulder, “Hush you. Scorpius is with your father in the Library – shall we go grab him?”

Draco nods; desperate to see his son after hours apart, “Are you okay to follow?” he asks, throwing a glance to where you remain rooted.

You shake yourself free; banishing all thoughts of Draco and his speaking of one of the most romantic languages on the planet from your head.

You follow with a sheepish smile, “Definitely. Even I’ve heard tales of Lucius’ library.”

Narcissa chuckles, “He spends more time in there; researching and reading anything.”

“What does he research?” You ask; curiosity piqued.

“Anything – the pagan tribes of the celts at the moment. He’s focused on the history of Wiltshire at the moment; I’ve had stop him twice this week from apparating to Stonehenge and scaring the tourists.”

Draco pauses; falling into step with you as Narcissa opens the library doors, “My father needed something to do after the war; historical research turned out to be his niche.”

“It sounds like he’s having one hell of a time,” You comment; not kissing the grin that stretches across Draco’s face.

“Scorp, darling, your father is here!” Narcissa calls out after not having found her grandson where she had left him with his grandfather.

It’s hard to miss the footfalls of the toddler as he runs through the shelve stacks, crowing, “Dad! You’re back!”

Draco catches Scorpius in his arms, “Hey there, squirt. How was your day?”

“Fun. Grandpa taught me about the selts.”

“Celts, my boy,” Lucius says, appearing from behind one of the many shelves, “A hard C. Celts.”

Scorpius’ eyebrows furrows as he repeats the word again, “Celts.”

Lucius claps, “Excellent! We’ll make a historian of you yet.”

Scorpius beams at the pride rolling off Lucius in waves; he almost doesn’t notice you standing next to Draco.

“(Y/N)!”

“Hi Scorpius,” You greet.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

You laugh at his curiosity, “Your father invited me for tea, is that okay?”

The young boy nods, “We’re having pasta.”

You smile, “I like pasta.”

Scorpius nods again, and just like that, it’s settled.

Draco hitches Scorpius higher onto his hip, “He wasn’t much trouble?”

His question breaks his parents from staring at the exchange between you and Scorpius. Lucius smiles at Draco, “Scorpius is never any trouble.”

“Thank you for looking after him again.”

“It’s no bother to us. We love the boy,” Narcissa comments; blinking away what look to be like tears.

“We’ll see you soon, no doubt,” Draco says, “Say bye to granny and grandpa, squirt.”

Scorpius yells his goodbye with a large smile.

Draco holds his free arm out to you, and the three of you apparate to his home in the next village over.

Draco’s house is nowhere near the size of Malfoy Manor, but it is still large in comparison to the two bedroomed flat you rented in Diagon Alley.

It’s perfectly symmetrical you realise as Draco opens the garden gate. Two windows on either side of the pale green front door. Always a Slytherin, you think as you follow Draco up the main path. He readjusts Scorpius as he reaches for his key; putting Scorpius down as he opens the door.

Scorpius reaches for your hand, “I’ll show you the kitchen,” he states, leading you through the large foyer to a room just to the right.

The kitchen is the biggest one you’ve been in. The island being home to a breakfast bar where Scorpius tries to climb up to before you cave and place him on one of the stools.

Draco follows closely behind; opening the fridge to grab the ingredients for dinner.

You hop off a stool, “What can I do to help?”

Draco pauses, “You need to sit down, I said I was cooking.”

You roll your eyes, “I want to help, so what can I do?”

“Add the pasta to the pot when the water starts to boil. I’ve already salted the water.”

You nod, rolling the sleeves up on your blouse. Draco doesn’t miss the small tattoo on your left forearm, “When did you get that?” he asks as he starts to crush and chop some garlic.

You look down to the now familiar swirling patterns below the crook of your elbow, laughing, “I got it after our Eighth Year. I snuck out to a muggle artist and got it done; mum hit the roof.”

Draco laughs, moving on to slicing the tomatoes in two. You look down at the pot of water, happy to see it boiling. You add the pasta to the pot, stirring twice before stepping away from the pan.

You sit back down at the breakfast bar; ruffling Scorpius’ hair as you do so. The blonde-haired boy giggles, “Can I see your arm?”

You glance at Draco to check that he’s okay with Scorpius seeing your tattoo. Draco nods and you hold out your arm for Scorpius to gaze at your tattoo.

He reaches out a small finger, running it over the ink gently, “Did it hurt?”

You shake your head, “Not a bit.”

“Dad has a tattoo.”

You stiffen at his words; so does Draco.

The Dark Mark that mars Draco’s arm wasn’t spoken about when it was placed on his forearm, and it wasn’t spoken about now. It has been years since the Dark Lord was vanquished by Harry Potter yet his mark upon the house of Malfoy had definitely been left.

“It’s pale but I’ve seen it.”

Draco clears his throat, saying somewhat brokenly, “Dinner is almost ready. Go clean up, squirt.”

You help Scorpius down from the stool; grinning as he rushes away to the downstairs bathroom to wash his hands before dinner.

As soon as he’s left, you turn your attention back to Draco who’s stirring the pan of pasta quietly, “I’m sorry, Draco.”

“For what?” He asks incredulously.

“For showing him my tattoo. I didn’t think he would bring up yours.”

Draco shrugs, “It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it, and like squirt said, it’s pretty faded now.”

You nod, “I’m glad. Where do you keep your plates? I’ll grab them for you.”

“Second cupboard on from the fridge. There’s a small plastic one for Scorpius there too.”

You grab the three plates, wandering back to where Draco is adding the pasta to the sauce simmering away in the pan. Scorpius rushes back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table by the window.

“Show us your hands, squirt. Are they clean?”

Scorpius holds his hands up, waving them at his father. Draco squints, pretending to look over his son’s hands with extra care, “Very good. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes!” Scorpius shouts, legs kicking under the table.

Draco laughs, “Well it’s a good thing it’s ready then!”

Draco takes over yours and Scorpius’ plates first before grabbing his and the cutlery. He cuts up Scorpius’ pasta before settling in his own seat and starting to eat.

“This is so tasty,” You compliment, “One of the best meals I’ve had.”

Scorpius nods rapidly, working through his own mouthful before saying, “Dad is the best cook! You should try his pancakes!”

“Thanks, squirt,” Draco replies, smiling at him.

“I’ll have to try those pancakes one day,” You murmur, casting a side glance at the blonde-haired man sat to your left.

“I think you will,” He replies, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

Of course, you would rekindle feelings for your teenage crush when he’s now a widow and a father. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you focus your gaze back to your meal.

The dinner is soon over, and the plates are cleared away to the sink where they’ll be washed after dessert.

Dessert is a slice of chocolate cake and ice cream; a treat from Narcissa. Scorpius makes as much conversation as he can; telling his father and you about the day he had at his grandparents where he learnt about the mystical celts and Stonehenge. Soon, though, his eyes start to droop and his final spoonful of cake clatters to the plate.

Draco scoops up his son; cradling in his arms as he once did those years ago. Draco murmurs an apology to you as he carries his son from the kitchen to his room,  but you wave him away.

To help, you collect the plates and start running the hot water, adding dish soap as you go. You’re almost finished with the final plate when Draco returns from putting Scorpius to bed.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind – it makes me feel useful.”

“Alright. You washed, I’ll dry,” Draco bargains; grabbing the tea towel from the counter and picking up the first plate.

“Did he fall asleep okay?” You question.

Draco nods, “Out like a light, I had put his pyjamas on for him.”

You chuckle, “Bless him.”

“He really likes you,” Draco comments.

“Well, what’s not to like?” You quip, grinning, “I really like him too. He’s a credit to you, Draco.”

Draco finishes drying the final plate; putting them back in their assigned cupboard.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink, or do you need to be at work early?”

“I do, but I’d like that drink.”

Draco pulls two glasses from the display before reaching for a bottle of red wine. You already knew that you would wake up tomorrow with a headache, but it was worth it to spend more time with him.

Draco pours two glasses before handing one to you. He grabs the bottle and his glass, leading you to the living room across the foyer.

You take a seat on the maroon couch, taking a drink of wine before placing the glass on a coaster.

“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“That is all part of Narcissa Malfoy’s rearing of a good husband. She started teaching me to cook before I left for Hogwarts and would give me lessons every school holiday.”

“Well, you’re very good. I’ll be thinking of that pasta for days.”

Draco smiles at you from over the rim of his wine glass and your stomach flips.

“Why did you tell your mother that it was just dinner?” You question, referring to the incident earlier at Malfoy Manor. You take another sip of wine, watching Draco the whole time.

“Mother has it in her mind that it’s time for me to find someone new. She worries that I’ve been alone too long,” Draco drawls wryly.

“What do you think?”

Draco swishes the remaining wine in his glass; reaching for the bottle to refill.

“I don’t know,” is his answer as he tops off your glass too.

“Are you lonely?”

“You really are a journalist, aren’t you?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, smiling, “Are you though? Lonely?”

Draco locks eyes with you; the answer is on the tip of his tongue, ready to make its entrance but he’s interrupted by the cry of his son.

Wine glasses are placed hurriedly as you both rush to the young boy’s room; his cries getting louder.

The both of you fall into the room in a hurry; desperate to help Scorpius. Draco shakes his shoulders, bringing him back to reality.

“Scorpius, Scorpius – it’s okay, open your eyes.”

“Dad?” Scorpius asks; his voice a sob.

“It’s me, squirt. I’m here.”

Scorpius opens his arms for his father. Draco picks him up with no hesitation; cuddling his son to his side – drying his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“It sounded like a bad one,” Draco comments.

Scorpius nods, “I don’t want to go back to sleep, I’m scared.”

Draco looks torn in two. On the one hand, Scorpius needs to sleep otherwise he’ll be as cranky as a Hungarian Horntail tomorrow. However, on the other hand, Draco won’t force Scorpius back into another nightmare by insisting he sleep.”

You step forward, perching on the end of Scorpius’ bed, “I have an idea, but you need to be all comfortable and cosy, okay?”

Scorpius nods timidly; rearranging himself against Draco’s side, cuddling his beloved teddy tighter.

“Are you cosy?”

He nods once more.

“Okay, I’ll begin: Once upon a time in a far off land there lived a king who was very lonely. He had tried for years and years to meet the love of his life, but he felt defeated for he hadn’t found the one…”

It takes over an hour – three stories and two muggle songs before Scorpius is soundly sleeping once again.

Draco shifts him with the expertise of a parent before leaving his bedroom with you in tow.

He goes to close the door, but you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “Leave it open two,” you start, “the light from the landing will comfort him a little if he has another nightmare.”

Draco leaves the door open a crack. Turning to you, he says, “I don’t know why I never thought of that.”

You shrug, “It’s something my mum used to do for me.”

“You were incredible in there by the way,” Draco compliments as you descend the stairs together.

“Thank you,” You murmur shyly.

“Where did you learn those stories and songs?” He asks, “I feel like I should take notes for next time,” he chuckles half-heartedly.

You laugh too, “The stories I made up years ago and the songs are muggle ones I heard on my travels. I used to babysit my younger cousins for extra pocket money – I got to be creative very quickly.”

“Well it paid off,” Draco comments, eyes flickering to the stairs.

“It certainly did,” You murmur; eyes following Draco’s.

It’s silent for a few moments; the both of you thinking of the other without the other knowing. You, terrified to tell him for the fear of rejection. Him, terrified about letting down his dead wife.

You both go to speak at the same time and promptly burst into quiet laughter.

Through the span of the conversation, you’ve gravitated towards Draco – bodies angled towards each other, hands close to touching, heads close together.

If you leaned forward an inch, your mouth would be on his.

The alcohol coursing through your veins makes the connection for you as in the next second, you’ve leant forward and attached your lips to Draco’s.

He doesn’t respond at first; too in shock by your boldness but when you’re about to pull away, he wraps a hand in your hair, keeping your mouth pressed to his. Lips glide together seamlessly. He bites down on your lower lip, making you gasp. He deepens the kiss then; shifting on the couch to press you further into it.

Your hand make their way into his hair, and Draco groans against your mouth at the feel.

But it’s all too much and you need to pull away.

Chest heaving, you drag your mouth away from Draco’s. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, pressing little kisses across your jawline to your ear before sitting back up.

“I didn’t expect that,” You gasp.

“Neither did I, but I’m not mad about it.”

“You aren’t? I did just jump you.”

Draco laughs, “It would have happened sooner or later.”

“Really?” You ask; a note of happiness unmistakable in your voice.

Draco nods, running his thumb across your lips, relishing in the fact that they’re swollen because of him.

The wine has gone to your head, and you feel your eyes begin to droop before the first yawn hits. You sigh, pulling away from Draco’s distracting touch, “I think I better head off.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to leave.”

“Why, do you want me to stay, Draco?” You tease.

He nods, “I can’t offer much, but this couch is really comfy.”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You ask; the wine making you more brash.

Draco blushes. You take back your words, “I’m sorry, Draco. Red wine goes straight to my head.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I just propositioned you and all we’ve done is kiss,” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

Draco pulls your hands away from your face, “(Y/N), it’s fine, really. The blanket on the back of the couch is really warm; grab it will you?”

You feel your face heat as you reach for the large grey blanket draped over the back of the couch. Draco stands momentarily to toe off his shoes before settling back down on the couch. You slip off your own shoes before clambering onto the couch next to him.

This was all so intimate.

Draco throws the large blanket over you both. Once suitably covered, his arm slips around your waist and your hand rests on his chest.

Neither of you say anything. No words need to be spoken now; everything expressed through actions alone.

With a kiss to the top of your head, Draco falls asleep unafraid of what he’ll meet in the morning.

--------

It’s the sunlight that wakes you. Bright light warming your face; you flutter your eyes open to find you face to face with Draco’s chest. Neither of you had moved in night; if anything, becoming closer together. At some point, his legs had tangled with yours and your hand had gripped his shirt so tight, it came away wrinkled when you loosened your grip.

You sigh happily; then you glance at the clock on the mantle piece where the hands make it abundantly clear that you were going to be late for work.

Extracting yourself carefully from Draco’s hold, you pick up your shoes from the floor. You search quickly for a spare piece of paper and a pen; scrawling a note for Draco to read when he wakes.

With one last look at the man you had fallen for in such a short amount of time, you apparated away.

-----

Draco wakes not long after you leave; feeling oddly light without the weight of your body pressed up against him. He frowns when he realises that you’ve left without a goodbye but with a glance at the clock, he doesn’t have much time to worry about it.

Scorpius would be awake any minute and demanding breakfast.

Draco sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It had been so long since he had slept with someone by his side; wrapped around him the way you were, and he was happy to admit, he had missed the feeling of another human pressed so tightly against him, he could feel every contour in their body.

He almost falls off the couch when he notices your note lying on the table. He grabs it with shaking hands:

“Had to go to work – meet me for lunch if you can? Thank you for last night. You still owe me pancakes – (Y/N).”

He feels like a teenager again experiencing the rush of his first crush. He runs a hand across his face; standing up to get a start on breakfast. He folds your note in two before sliding it into his wallet for safekeeping.

It’s then that Draco realises he has two things he needs to do.

-----

Draco drops Scorpius off at Astoria’s parents for the morning. Apologising to his son for bailing on their plans of the park and the library; Scorpius simply pats his father’s face in goodbye before running to his grandma and grandad Greengrass.

Draco waves at his in-laws before apparating to see their daughter.

-----

The graveyard looks entirely different, but Draco knows nothing has changed. What has changed is him, and he need to tell Astoria.

Kneeling in his usual place in front of her grave, Draco releases a shaky breath.

“Hi darling, I know I’m early for our visit, but I have something important to discuss with you,” He looks down at his hands before continuing, “I think I’ve met someone, and I really want to pursue it. I want to see where it goes.

“You have to understand, darling, I never thought I would love again after you. I really didn’t and for three years, I’ve been an island with just enough room for Scorpius. I didn’t expect it, but it happened, and I like the way (Y/N) makes me feel. I feel excited again; my hands are shaking from the very thought.

“Scorpius likes her by the way, and she likes him, but they both know they won’t ever fill the role that you were supposed to. And I think they’re both happy with that knowledge.

“I’m not asking for your permission, but I am asking for your forgiveness. For not loving you harder; for not taking more time to be with you; for not apologising immediately after every argument. But I’m ready to start living again and I’ve found someone that makes me want to live again; that incites that spark of life within me, and I desperately want to see where it goes.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while; around the house. I think you realised what was happening before I did and finally made your peace with it. I can’t ever forget you and our time. I see whenever I look at our little boy, but I’m ready to begin again, and so I shall.”

Draco stands from the grave feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had to speak to Astoria before he could speak to you; he had tell her his choice but to reassure that he would always love her, but his heart was ready to make room for another person.

And that person was you.

With one last glance at the marble headstone, Draco apparates to Diagon Alley.

----------

The offices to the Daily Prophet newspaper lie in a side street just off the high street. He signs in at reception but asks the receptionist not to alert you of his presence. The receptionist flushes when she realises that she’s now part of a romantic plot. Draco smiles at her gratefully as he makes his way to the main lift, asking for your floor.

He taps his foot the entire ride up to your floor, annoying every single person in the lift with him. But he can’t help it; he’s both excited and nervous.

In a few moments, he’s changing the direction of his life forever, and he couldn’t feel more ready to start.

The door opens on your floor and Draco rushes out, followed by the happy sighs of those journeying to higher floors. He wants to laugh at their reactions, but the butterflies rioting in his stomach make him feel as if he could vomit right on the muddy brown carpet.

It’s not hard to find which desk is yours by the amount of trinkets on there. Files are precariously high in one section, and then the rest of the desk bar the cream typewriter is covered by snow globes and tiny figurines of landmarks from your travels. From this first look at your desk, Draco already has a sense of what your flat will look like.

You gasp when you see Draco standing in the door to your office, “Draco, you’re early for lunch.”

Draco walks up to your desk; his hands shaking through it all, “Let me make you pancakes.”

“What?” You ask, breathless.

“Let me make you pancakes,” He repeats, “I want to make you pancakes in the morning.”

“Really?” You sniffle; tears collecting.

Draco nods, “I’m still grieving, but I always will be. However, that doesn’t mean my life needs to come to an end and I realised that I want it to continue with you by my side so… let me make you pancakes every morning.”

Tears have started to fall down your face and you sniffle before speaking, “Okay. You can make me pancakes.”

Draco beams; eyes crinkling. He leans in close to you, whispering, “Do you think you can get off early?”

You grab your bag before he finishes his sentence, “Let’s get out of here.”

Draco holds his hand out for you to take. At the feel of your skin against his, a jolt of electricity runs between you. It takes everything in him not to drag you into a kiss in the foyer of the building.

He waits until he’s in the street.

Like a gentleman.

He waits until the coast is somewhat clear before pulling you into his side and drawing your mouth to his like you did last night. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

It’s not your first kiss, and it won’t be your last, but this one kiss means the world to the both of you.

Through it all, you’ve learnt to swim.

-------

A year later:

Scorpius is almost five years old when he visits his mother’s grave for the first time in his life. He had been less than three weeks old when she was buried in the Greengrass plot

Scorpius watches as his father kneels before her first; apologising for his absence and asking for her forgiveness.

But then he looks to Scorpius; where he stands with his hand holding onto yours tightly.

Draco beckons to Scorpius with an open hand. Scorpius staggers to his father’s side immediately.

“Hi Mum,” he whispers.

Draco’s hand is firm on his son’s shoulders; a comforting presence.

“I miss you,” he starts, “I know I never got to know you, but I miss you. I have your picture in my room, so I know what you look like, and Wellesley. I’m starting school soon; a small magic school with kids like me and I’m really excited. Dad’s doing well. He was sad for a while but he’s happier now and he talks about you more with (Y/N) who I like too. I want to come back, and I think Dad will let me, so I’ll see you soon, Mum.”

And with that, Scorpius walks away, happy to have finally met the mother had wanted to meet for so long.

Draco watches his son potter back to the still creaky gate in awe. You join his side; fingers tangling in his. “How are you feeling?” You ask, watching Draco’s face.

“Happy and in love,” is Draco’s reply.

*****

Muggle songs:

Johnny Ace - Pledging My Love

Paul Anka - Put Your Head On My Shoulder

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​

Draco Malfoy taglist @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 '𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢' 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was busy scribbling away on his notebook that he didn't even notice that you had set up a camera to face him in the studio. Giving a thumbs up to the screen, you tiptoed over to where he sat. Crouching down, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. He didn't really react so you leaned in and kissed his nose, this time a small smile formed on his lips.

"Ok. Ok. Come here." He pushed his chair backwards and placed you on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He thought you just wanted to sit on his lap while he worked, but instead he got you placing kisses all over his face, which made it impossible for him to concentrate, especially when your lips were so soft and warm.

"Baby." He whined as you smushed your lips onto his.

"Hmmm?" You hummed as you continued to kiss him.

"I'm trying to finish.." He told you but still made no effort to move you, instead he just lazily kissed you back.

You chuckled against his lips.

"Ok then..." You pulled back slowly and stood up to get off him.

"Wait! No! Come back!"

In an instant, Hongjoong made you straddle his lap again, his hands cupping the sides of your face as he began kissing you again. He just couldn't stop after you made him crave some smooches.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

All throughout the day, you had been pecking Seonghwa's lips whenever you got the chance. He didn't notice anything off about it, you were always affectionate with each other and he himself tended to be kissing you randomly.

He started to suspect something was up though when you were helping him with his sit ups. Every time he came up, you purposefully kissed him, making him lose count or get distracted. He just giggled though and thought you were being playful or to motivate him in his workouts.

So when you two were cuddling, he started to do the same to you: he began randomly kissing you, making you a blushing mess.

"Seonghwa!" You squeaked when he began kissing down your neck.

"What? You've been like this all day, but when I do it, you get shy?" He shook his head.

That's when you bursted out laughing and began explaining to him what was going on. He became embarrassed and began laughing.

"Here I thought I made you fall in love with me more and that's why you were so lovey dovey." He confessed awkwardly.

You smile and leaned in to kiss him again.

"There's no way I could possibly fall more in love with you than what I already am."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho was already excited at the thought of getting to spend time with you after endless promotions. He had missed you so much and craved your affection that he obviously didn't find it weird that you were peppering him with kisses when you met up.

"Oh my god. Baby did you miss me that much?" He teased you even though he had missed you a lot as well.

You two went out and did all sorts of things: go to an arcade, take a walk in the park, got lunch somewhere and eventually went back to your place to watch some movies. All throughout this, Yunho had not really noticed that you were kissing him more than usual.

Sensing that he wasn't really reacting, you decided to try something. Throughout the entire movie, you began kissing different parts of his face almost every 15 seconds. At first Yunho just smiled and would mutter something about you being cute.

Then suddenly, after you kissed his neck for 4 times in a row, he stopped and looked at you with a serious look.

"I hope you're willing to take responsibility for your actions."

He shocked you when he tackled you onto the couch, trapping you in his arms as he aggressively kissed your cheeks and neck. You writhed your body as you tried to get out, but Yunho wasn't having it.

"You can't just keep kissing me and showering me with affection and not expect me to retaliate Y/N! This is war!" He chuckled as he kept attacking you with kisses.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

You truly weren't sure how to go about this. Yeosang wasn't particularly fond of PDA and wouldn't often initiate affection. Still, you wanted to see how he would react....if he even reacted at all.

You started off by linking hands with him as you walked by the streets, he didn't seem to mind, even putting your hands inside his coat pocket to keep them warm. Going in for the kill, you pecked his cheek. He stopped in his tracks for a split second but then continued on as if nothing happened, only noticeable difference was the blush on his cheeks and ears. You tried doing that several more times and succeeded in 4 of them, but the rest Yeosang ended up avoiding.

You honestly felt disappointed. Sure Yeosang was shy, but you never thought he'd reject your affection so coldly. So you decided to give up and just sat there quietly next to him on the bed as he read one of his many novels, his hand squeezing yours every now and then. Feeling a little brave and wanting to try it one last time, you leaned in and placed 3 kisses to his temple. Yeosang paused before closing his book. After he set it down, he turned to look at you, sighing as he stared deep in your eyes. You were about to apologize but then he surprised you by pulling you into a soft and romantic kiss.

He only pulled back to whisper against your lips:

"You have no idea how long I've been holding back." before proceeding to kiss you again.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

You already pictured how the challenge might end up, you knew your boyfriend so well. As expected, every time you placed a kiss on any part of his face, he'd return the favor. And the more kisses you were giving him, the more he clung onto you.

Soon, it was he who was placing more and more kisses on you that you almost forgot you were supposed to be the one doing the kissing.

"Seriously baby? What has gotten into you?" San asked you rather amused when you crawled into his lap and intensified the amount of kisses you were giving him.

"Don't." Kiss. "Know." Kiss. "Want." Kiss. "Kissies." You responded with kisses in between your words.

San chuckled at how cute you were.

"Well....seems to me like someone is being needy."

He flipped your positions so he was now hovering above you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Do you want some help?"

Attaching his lips to your neck, San began nibbling on all your sensitive spots, making you get flustered as you tried to push him off.

"San! Wait! It was only a challenge!" You exclaimed, letting out a tiny moan when he bit down on a particular spot.

"You think that's gonna stop me?" He smirked at you.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"Baby? What do you think of this one?"

Mingi only got a kiss in response to his question. He blushed slightly and put the red sweater back.

"That's the 4th time you've done that." He pointed out.

"Done what?" You feigned ignorance.

"Kissed me out of nowhere." He explained.

You merely mumbled something and went back to looking through the clothes on the rack. Mingi was confused though, not knowing what was going on. Were you trying to tell him something? Were you mad at him? Did he do something wrong? Was this payback? He was so lost.

He just decided to see what else you'd do and indeed, you kept pecking his lips at random times that left him baffled and somehow wanting more. Now whenever you started leaning in, he'd cup your chin and kiss you back. He began thinking that maybe he'd been neglecting you and you wanted extra love. So when you guys got back home, the first thing he did was pick you up and carry you to the bedroom as he kissed you all over your face.

"Ok we're home now. So let me love you and adore you like the little baby you are." He cooed at you as he tangled his legs and arms all around your body.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

You were frustrated. At first, everything was going fine. Wooyoung became shook every time you planted a kiss on his lips at random times, sometimes blushing. But now? He was evading your kisses.

"Oh look! Mail's here!" He exclaimed as he walked away from you before you could even lean into his face.

It seemed like he was doing it on purpose. So you tried something.

"Woo? Can you get this thing down for me?" You pointed to one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

Sighing, Wooyoung abandoned his task of washing fruits to go help you out.

"Shorty." He snorted as he got down the box of pretzels for you.

You grinned at him. "Thank you my handsome and tall boy-"

You were cut off because he placed the box in front of your face when you tried to yet again kiss him. He began laughing at your frowning face.

"You're so mean! All I want is to kiss you!" You huffed.

"Oh really? You sure it's not for your vlog?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

You widened your eyes at him, wondering how he knew when he continued.

"You're not very discreet baby. And besides, I'm always the one initiating kisses. That was the first clue something was up."

You had to give it to him: he is smarter than what you gave him credit for.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You decided to start early, knowing it'd be a lot cuter to catch his reaction if he was still half asleep. You cuddled up next to his sleeping body, sifts snores coming out of his nose. You brushed your nose against his cheek before pressing a soft kiss on his skin. He didn't move.

Pouting, you moved him slightly, making him groan softly. Hovering on top of him, you began pecking his lips repeatedly. At first, Jongho only twitched the corners of his lips and then he started giggling softly.

"5 more minutes baby cakes. And then I'll play with you." He whined softly.

You started humming, making it seem like you'd let him have his 5 minutes, but one minute passed and you began kissing his lips again. Jongho groaned, repeating that he was tired. You began to kiss his shoulders and when he shuffled his body, you ended up kissing his neck, more specifically, right on his mole, where he was particularly sensitive in.

Jongho's eyes shut wide open, startling you and further scaring you when he flipped you in the blink of an eye and pinned you down on the bed.

"Ok. My turn."

He was definitely awake now.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[bullshxtvixen]

can u do some oikawa or bokuto getting kinkyyyy in public like in the bleachers or smth 🥴🥴🥴

I’m sorry it took a while to post these, i’ve been setting up a haikyuu discord server so we can all thirst together so i’ve been slacking on requests :( but i really hope you enjoy them! ALSO I DID OIKAWA AND BOKUTO BECAUSE I COULDN’T DECIDE >.<

Public sex Headcanons - Oikawa and Bokuto

Warning: 18+, smut, public sex(duh) and a little bit of degradation.

Oikawa

- He’s had the whole thing planned since you’d agreed to come to the game with him. You’ve usually been pretty open to trying new things with him but he knew that if he’d warned you about his plan you would’ve chickened out.

- So when you’re sat at the back of the bleachers looking down at a particularly boring match and his hand find its way beneath your skirt, you couldn’t help but tense up and look at him with wide eyes.

- “What do you think you’re doing?” You’ll hiss at him but he’s just going to carry on watching the match as if his fingers weren’t caressing your inner thigh and inching dangerously close to your core.

- Fucking tease.

- Your eyes would be darting around checking to see if anyone had noticed what was happening but he’d chosen a secluded spot right at the back so the nearest people were at least 5 rows in front. It’ll click in your mind then that he’d planned this.

- “ Tōru , this isn’t funny, someone coul-“ you won’t get to finish your sentence before two of his slender fingers easily move your panties to the side and slip between your folds, sliding into you with ease.

- “Someone could see, huh?” You wanted to wipe the shit eating grin off his face. “If you were so worried about that then why are you already so fucking wet for me when I’ve barely even touched you? I think you love the risk of being caught, don’t you, you slut?”

- His words would have you shuffling in your seat as his fingers pick up their pace, his thumb now circling your clit, making that familiar ache build in the pit of your stomach.

- Gripping his thigh and digging your nails in won’t dissuade him, he’ll just continue to watch you from the corner of his eye with a smirk. He loves seeing you squirm.

- “T-tooru, I’m g-going to...I’m gonna...cum.” The words were almost incoherent, but he knew what you meant.

- “Ah ah ah, we can’t have that now, can we? You wouldn’t want to do something as dirty as cum all over my fingers in a public place now, would you?” He’ll pull his fingers out like the fucking tease he is, leaving you empty and unsatisfied.

- Annoyed and flustered, you’d get up and go to make your way past your idiot boyfriend but before you could get around him, he’s pulling you down into his lap, one arm firmly around your waist, securing you to him.

- “Don’t make a sound, don’t move unless I tell you to and don’t close your eyes. If you do any of those things I’m going to bend you over that seat in front of us and fuck your sopping little cunt right here for the whole gym to see, do you understand, sweetheart?”

- You wouldn’t even be able to process what was happening before for he growls “Answer me.” as his hand palms your ass. The only thing you could do was nod.

- That’s all he needed. In seconds he’s lifting you up ever so slightly so he can free his cock from the confines of his trousers, before pulling your panties to the side and easing you down onto his throbbing length.

- His cock isn’t the longest but his girth makes up for it, stretching you in the most delicious way possible.

- Your eyes would almost roll into the back of your head at the feel of him filling you but you couldn’t risk them closing, though the thought of him fucking you in front of a large group of people as they watched does spike your arousal.

- Your pussy is going to be clenching around his cock so tightly that he knows it won’t take much for either of you to find your release.

- “God, your cunt feels fucking amazing wrapped around me like that,” he’ll whisper in your ear, “but let’s get those hips of yours moving so I can fill you up with my cum.”

- Then his hands are on your hips, moving you back and forth against his cock as your nails bite into your palms.

- “That’s it, I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, cum all over my cock while we’re surround by all these people, you dirty little slut.”

- Then you’re both coming undone, you almost biting through your bottom lip in an attempt to stay silent while his hands have a death drip on your hips.

- “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Now let’s get out of here, we wouldn’t want my cum dripping out of you and ruining these seats now, would we?”

- Make no mistake, as soon as you get home he’s going to absolutely destroy you.

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Bokuto

- Bokuto has never really thought about fucking you in a public setting before, but seeing you in a skimpy swimsuit for the first time as you slowly test the water of one of the tide pools at the far end of the beach is too much temptation for him to resist. As lust begins to take over, it’s almost like he becomes a completely different person.

- He’ll watch as you lower yourself into the crystal blue water, slowly submerging yourself until your feet hit the rocky bottom. Luckily the water just comes up to your chest so you’re still able to lean your arms on the side of the smooth rock as some of the boys begin a new match on the sand a little further up the beach from you.

- Bokuto’s going to use the fact you’re distracted by the game to silently slip into the far side of the pool before dipping under the water and making his way towards you, fully submerged.

- When he surfaces he’ll put a hand over your mouth and his other around your waist, pulling your body flush against his in a flash.

- As you start to struggle his breath is going to brush against your neck before his familiar chuckle finds your ears.

- “Easy now, little bird, it’s just me.” He’ll say before removing his hand and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, causing you to shiver against him.

- ‘Little bird’ is only something he calls you when it comes to sex so you immediately know something’s going on.

- The hand that was covering your mouth will snake down the front of your body, making it’s way between your supple thighs that he loves burying his face between.

- When you tense up he just smirks against your skin, his breath fanning against your neck.

- “What are you playing at, Kou?”

- Another chuckle. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to just slip these to the side” his fingers trace the fabric covering your now throbbing cunt, “and take you right here and now, while our friends are just over there?”

- He’ll grind his hardened cock against your ass as he says it, causing you to arch into him, your head falling against his shoulder.

- He’ll use that to his advance and cover your lips with his own.

- And you know he’s going to take that moment of distraction to hook his fingers into the material of your swim suit and tug it to the side so he push the entire length of his cock into you in one quick thrust.

- It’s a good thing his mouth is covering yours because the feel of him stretching your walls is going to have you moaning against his lips.

- “Geez, would you guys get a room, you look like you’re about to fuck!” Someone who sounds suspiciously like Kuroo, calls from the direction of where the teams were playing, but the only thing you could focus on is the slow rock of your boyfriends hips against your backside.

- You should be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed that your boyfriend is about to fuck you while your friends aren’t even 10 meters away from you, but the risk of being caught is only making you that much more turned on.

- “You better say something to him before they come over here and investigate, little bird or they’re going to see what a cock hungry little devil you are.” He’ll whisper in your ear, his cock continuing to throb inside of you.

- From where the boys are positioned it would just look as though Bokuto was innocently cuddling you and being a doting boyfriend, but if they came any closer they’d see that beneath the surface of the water he was buried inside you as his hand made lazy circles around your clit.

- “~ahh, umm-fuck you, rooster boy. You’re just j-jealous because i’d be getting some.” Yeah your voice isn’t going to be stable as you say it but luckily Kuroo doesn’t question it and returns to the game.

- “Mmm, that’s a good little bird.” He’s got your fingers gripping at the rocks in front of you as your orgasm starts to build faster, his hips trapping yours against the hard surface in front of you as he slides his cock into you over and over again.

- “Fuck, Kou. You feel so fucking good, I’m close.” You’d whisper, knowing he’s a sucker when it comes to being praised.

- Even though it’s not the usual crazy sex that you’ve grown accustomed to with Bokuto, the slow build up of your orgasm has you covering your mouth as it finally washes over your body.

- Within seconds you’ll feel him release inside of you as your walls clench around him, filling you with his hot cum and his arms tighten around you.

- “Holy fuck, y/n. That was...so hot. I can’t believe we just did that.” Immediately he’s back to his usual self.

- He’s going to spend the rest of the day walking round with some extra bounce in his step and he’ll probably even blush whenever he looks your way. He really can’t believe he did that.

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Ngl I’m not 100% happy with them but then again I never am 😂 I hope you liked them! If you have a request, feel free to send it in! ^.^