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justmeinatree · 8 months

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02 - Astoria : Locked Us On An Island

Summary : you find yourself trapped on a pirate ship, desperate to be saved. or is it the pirate that needs saving …

hope fades away in astoria, i’ll say whatever doesn’t make me stronger kills me

previous part

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : it’s finally been figured out, this will be a 4 part miniseries !! i hope yall enjoy ✌️

“niall, let me row a bit, please,” you huff.

the last few hours went by in a flash. from following niall up to a lifeboat. to the both of you struggling to do a 3+ person job, as quickly as you could, escaping the endless captivity that was forced upon you for the last week.

the adrenaline seemed to leave your body as instantly as the boat hit the waters below. you felt the panic leaving your bones, your heart rate decreasing for the first time, the weight on your chest waning, your lungs sucking in a solid breath. and although the reality that was the last week, seemed to be settling inside you, exhaustion hitting tenfold, you still were not about to let niall row all the way. christ, he’s saved your life time and time again, the least you could do was this.

“would you just relax,” niall chuckles, shaking his head. “you act like this is my first time rowing off into the night.”

“wait” you exclaim, look of shock stricken on your features, “you’ve seriously done this before ? i thought you’d been on that ship all this time.”

niall laughs, eyes crinkling at the thought of a sedentary pirate, slowing his rowing to look at you properly, “s’my 6th time leaving a crew, darling. really no big deal there, pirates are always getting in scuffles. we’re not exactly the friendliest people. constantly getting thrown out for any number of reasons.”

“i had no idea,” you hum incredulously, shellshocked at the thought of doing such a thing every couple of years from the sounds of it.

“it is, however, my first time with company,” he smiles wide, starting to row again. “you’ve no idea how amazing that is, honestly.”

“umm,” you hum, biting your lip. a thought plaguing your mind since you’d left the not-so-safety of the ship, something you were nervous to bring up, as you were petrified of the answer, “how does this end ? this little lifeboat voyage we’re on, i mean.”

you’d been stressing the idea, the further you seem to be heading into nothingness. although it was nice, the reassurance that niall had done this many times, without seemingly being too scarred from it all. but that doesn’t stop the anxiety all that much. was a boat supposed to just find you ? what if that boat held more pirates ? surely niall couldn’t fight them all off. would you be finding land ? what would that look like ? where would you be ?

“we’re probably about another hour from a little island. can rest up there for a while, then row to the mainland,” he explains as if there wasn’t much to it.

“wha- you know where we are ?” you ask even more confused. who was this man ? he was becoming more and more of a mystery. “how in god’s name could you possibly know ?”

niall laughs again, “christ, no faith in me, you,” he tuts playfully. “rule number one of living at sea, learn your way, take note of your surroundings at all times, and know how to get yourself to safety.”

“but how do you even know where you’re going ? it’s pitch black, no sights to even take in,” you wonder, eyes looking around yourself for any form of reference point. but really, everything was just pure darkness.

niall nods upwards behind you, chin pointing towards the sky, “moon’s rising behind you. we’re going west. and i know where we are because i’ve sailed these seas for over a decade, s’all i know. besides, i’ve been to that island before, one of the other times i’ve had to leave. you’re in luck too, s’one of the nicer ones.”

instinctually, you turn your head, looking up at the sky behind you, noting the crescent moon, working its way up into the sky, niall’s voice piping up to add, “sun’ll be rising soon too. excited to feel that for the first time in a while ?”

“mhmm,” you hum contently at the thought of warmth and proper lighting. it feels like a very welcomed opportunity to properly dry out. everything had been so damp. “you’re really very smart,” you murmur, a little shameful that you’d just expected otherwise due to his career choice.

“you seem surprised,” niall chuckles breathily, smirking playfully at you, as he sees the shyness take over your face, eyes flicking away from his, demeanour curling into yourself. “hey, s’alright. i know pirates aren’t exactly known to be masterminds. and really, m’not.”

“but you know so much,” you’re quick to jump in, not wanting him to belittle himself. honestly, piracy aside, you were genuinely impressed with his smarts. “i could never do what you’re able to do.”

“lets just call it a different kind of smarts,” he smiles at you, “one you’ve never had to even consider before.”

you hum, nodding, contemplating. because he’s right. never had you a need to take note of the moon’s position, or the timing of sunrise, or reference points to find your way to safety. it honestly sounds exhausting. and for a solid moment, you felt bad for him.

you’d always been told that pirates were like the lowest of the low. people that would do nothing but pilfer, rape, destroy, hurt. so far though, niall’s been everything but. he’s been kind, honest, caring, protective. you did not have a crush on a pirate. fuck.

it was important not to forget that he did pilfer. stealing food and beverages for you. some boots and clothes as well. but he’s also done it in pure piracy in the past. hell, he even murdered people. to protect you from being seriously bruised and incredibly hurt. but, again, he’s also killed for no reason other than, you guessed it, piracy.

were those things that you could forgive ? things that were of necessity just as much as it was to keep you safe and comfortable ? that’s where the line blurs isn’t it ? what were you ready to accept ? because not an ounce of his being seems truly bad. fuck, why did any of it matter ? you were not falling for a pirate.

either way, you were quickly jolted, quite literally jolted, from your thoughts, as the little row boat collides with a sandbar, sending both you and niall flying into a whiplash.

“fuck. closer than i thought,” niall mutters under his breath, standing and stretching his arms high above his head, back rolling, muscles loosening.

your gaze was fixated on his lower stomach, shirt ridden up from the stretch, dark tanned skin, tousle of hair leading down into his pants. the whole ordeal was over quickly, as he hops out of the boat, pulling it further up onto the sand.

you were left sitting there, thighs clenching, drool pooling into your mouth that you’re holding shut tight, not wanting him to notice anything. you could not be thinking this way. you could not.

“y’alright there ?” niall chuckles, his hand stretched out in front of you. an offering of sorts, to help you balance yourself as you step out of the small boat. one that you accept graciously, the rocking of the waves jostling you around as you try to stand.

“yeah, sorry. i’ve been distracted,” you explain, shaking your head, shaking the thoughts in your head, more like.

“what’s on your mind ?” he asks, knowing how incredibly difficult this must have been for you so far. he remembers the early days at sea, they weren’t exactly the greatest. can’t imagine doing it all as a lady. one that had to fend for her life on a pirate ship. he definitely has the outmost respect for you, full admiration for someone that’s as headstrong as you’ve been.

“uh- don’t worry about it,” you sigh softly, “just tired, i think. all this is starting to weigh heavily now.”

you were not about to let him in on your true thoughts. not for a second. christ, you didn’t even want to let yourself in on your true thoughts. because you absolutely will not come close to admitting that you’re falling more and more for a pirate.

but really, look at him. with the sun starting to rise, you’re really seeing him properly for the first time. his eyes were piercing blue, accentuated by the brown tan that covers his skin. you’re now also noting that the brown tousles of hair poking out of this bandana turn more and more blonde the further you look from his scalp. another condition brought on by the harsh heat of the sun on the open sea.

he was well built too. muscles outlining his skin, years of hard manual labour clearly having its effects. and as tattered and dirty he was overall, you couldn’t help but wanting to curl up into him. he was he embodiment of safety, warmth, strength. even softness, a benefit to having your skin exposed to salt water. you wanted him. fuck, you wanted every little bit of him.

it was plaguing your mind. had been for a while. maybe this pirate was the silent answer to your prayers. christ, you must be delusional. it’s surely some form of projection. he’s saved your life and protected you more times than anyone else you know. that’s surely all it is. maybe a good warm nap will help you clear all these ridiculous thoughts.

“think i’ll just take a nap if that’s alright with you ?” you hum quietly, looking around yourself to find a spot that would give you enough comfort.

“‘course it’s okay. lemme show you a good spot,” niall smiles, hand tentatively resting on your shoulder in comfort, starting to lead the way, hand falling between both of you, as you stride in time.

it took every ounce of your being not to rest your head against his hand. he was so warm, so comforting, you could cry.

a nap. definitely a nap.

to distract yourself as you follow him, you take in your surroundings. looking at the few palm trees, large open sandy space, nothing but shimmering blue waters as far as the eye can see. but at the moment, you were too tired to really take in how isolated this little island really was, having no choice but to put all of your faith into your pirate man. your beautiful pirate man. fuck.

“here,” niall mutters, head nodding underneath one of the shorter trees, the shade more concise on one spot, soft grass growing beneath. “can use one of the big leaves if you want a makeshift blanket,” he explains, watching you drop down into the comfort of the grass, shuffling into the most comfortable position you can find.

niall looks around, trying to find some sort of anything that could be used as a pillow. when nothing immediately pops out at him, he quickly shuffles himself out of his vest, handing it to you sheepishly, “sorry if it’s dirty and smells bad. but, it’s a bit more comfortable than that giant root.”

he knows you’re used to much nicer things. cleaner things. nicer smelling things. he hates how much his brain is toying with him. you just want to be rescued, surely just to be brought back home and left to forget any of this ever happened. but you’ve rocked his mind more than the smallest boat taking on the largest wave.

you were so strong, so unbothered, so determined, positive, happy. so beautiful. no pirates were ever like that. maybe his stupid brain was just confused. maybe he was just looking to latch onto the first sense of goodness. there’s no way he’d let himself fall for the lady that stumbled onto a pirate’s ship. not because he wouldn’t want to, you were everything to him since the moment his eyes fell on you. you were the little spark of light in his life. a light he hasn’t seen or felt since becoming a pirate. it’s because he was here to make sure you were safe. and once you are, reality would hit.

you would surely go back to whatever it was you were doing. marrying the richest man, if he remembers correctly. that fucking richest man. of course you don’t want someone like niall.

“thanks,” you smile wide, accepting niall’s coat, bunching it up and cozying up to it, humming softly, contently. “really niall, thank you,” you mutter quietly, almost instantly asleep. something about having a little piece of him to curl up to seemed to wash away any and all fears. your beautiful pirate man. dammit.

it was quite a while before you woke up again, the sun now starting to sit low on the west side of the island, clearly making its descent over the little sandbar.

you notice that niall’s sitting just a bit further, closer to the water, fire burning in front of him, something clearly cooking overtop of it if the smell was anything to go by.

as you quickly stretch, you come to a stand, walking over to him, noting the pile of chopped wood next to him, “fuck, now i really feel bad. i’ve done nothing but sleep all day.”

niall startles slightly at your presence, not expecting you to be awake, looking over to catch you sitting down next to him. “please stop saying stuff like that,” he shakes his head with a playful smile. “really, just having someone else here is doing plenty for me.”

“you’d still be in the comfort of the ship if it weren’t for me,” you point out, really just looking for a reaction out of him. you were in a good mood after the long nap, finally a moment of silly freedom as your subconscious comes to terms with your overall safety.

“you’d be fucked if i hadn’t come with you,” he points out, eyes leaving the fire to flick to yours, a knowingly playful glint in his gaze.

“i’d have been eaten by a shark a thousand miles in the wrong direction,” you laugh, instinctually hiding your face in niall’s shoulder, slowly rising away from him when you realize what you’d done.

niall laughs with you, “wouldn’t make it a thousand miles,” he mutters under his breath, his heart bursting at the slight touch, knowing that you’re comfortable enough to do so. and if by the looks of it, wasn’t something you’d planned, if the sheepish look you’re giving him is anything to go by.

“s’alright you know,” he murmurs, his arm gently resting over your shoulders, giving you a small nudge, a silent plea to rest against him again. if you wanted to of course.

you welcome the opportunity, tucking your head into his neck, revelling in the warmth, the comfort, hell even his pirate smell was getting to you in a good way.

“don’t know how you did it,” you hum quietly, the darkness, the close proximity, making it easy to talk. “the first time you were rowing by yourself out at sea. must have been so scary.”

niall hums in thought, nodding, his hand on your shoulder giving a little squeeze, “think i was more scared of being hurt or weakened.”

“i thought we were gonna die out there,” you whisper, biting your lip, niall’s hand giving you another reassuring squeeze and a small rub.

“are you scared of dying ?” niall asks quietly, his head resting against yours, eyes locked on the fire ahead of him.

“yes, of course,” you nod. “aren’t you ?”

“no,” he shrugs softly. “i think to be scared of dying, i’d have to have something to live for.”

your heart shatters for him. literally, you can feel every shard of your broken heart stabbing you throughout the inside of your body. “niall-“ you murmur, looking up at him, sadness filling your eyes, “what happened to you ?” he’d mentioned his parents before. or at least his mum, and how she raised him to be kind. how did he end up here ?

he sighs, looking down at his boots, feet scuffing the sand below them, his hand rising from your shoulder to rest against your head, forcing it back down in his neck before speaking, “my mam died when i was young. a pretty graphic accident, i’ll spare you the details,” he explains quietly. “my dad couldn’t handle it. he drank the rest of his life away, and-“ niall shakes his head, “well, he eventually died too. didn’t have much going for me. no one to come and save me,” he shrugs.

that hits you. it hits you hard. he’s done nothing but save you for the past week. something he’s doing out of the pure goodness of his heart. something he so desperately wished for himself.

“was working at the docks for a while, but i didn’t have anywhere to go, didn’t have a home. that’s one thing the pirate ships do offer. s’hard work, the food is awful, the people are a mixed bag, but at least it’s a sense of belonging.”

“niall, i- fuck,” you breathe. “i don’t even know what to say. i’m so fucking sorry. wish i could go back in time and save you somehow.”

he closes his eyes, shuts them tight, his forehead pressed into your hair, muttering, “just knowing that means the world.”

you bite your lip at his admission, a single tear rolling down your cheek, quickly wiping it away against niall’s sleeve.

“never told me how you ended up on the ship,” niall murmurs, desperate for any way to take the heat of the conversation off of him.

“couldn’t stand the rich guy,” you explain softly, shrugging.

“why’s that ?” he asks, curious to have a glimpse into your reality.

“he’s not-“ he’s not you, you’re dying to say, but stop yourself. you can’t tell him that, fuck, you’re not sure you’re ready to accept that. to accept what that means. “he’s not a good person.”

“does he hurt you ?” niall asks quietly, bracing himself for the answer, not sure he’s actually ready for the outcome of that question.

“not physically,” you sigh. “not really anyway. not in the classic sense,” you try to clarify, shaking out the thoughts in your head. you didn’t want to talk about your sex life with niall.

so you try again, going a different route, “he’s not sweet, he’s not comforting, he’s not really very kind to me.” fuck, he’s not you, you really wish you could shout into the void of this island.

niall’s eyes close for a moment, squeezing you tighter to him, because really, how could anyone hurt you ? you were so sweet, so kind, how could anyone not want to give you the world ? he wishes more than anything that he could. that he had the opportunity to.

and well, he guesses that’s what separates their worlds so drastically. niall knew, deep down, that he was all the things that this guy wasn’t. but he also knew where pirates stood in the hierarchy of the world. and he knew even better where this guy stood. and that’s exactly why you were with him, and not niall. and it’s also why niall just needs to keep his mouth shut.

so that’s what he does. he sits with you. in comforting silence. watching the fire, taking in the stars, sharing the crab he’d caught earlier. sharing a moment of empathetic peace. a moment of sympathetic understanding. a moment for the two of you to just be. secretly pining for one another, but too self deprecating to do anything about it.

once the small bit of sustenance was polished off, niall finds himself guiding you back to the makeshift bed area, laying next to you, “get myself some rest before rowing back to the mainland tomorrow.”

why did that thought send a pit to the bottom of your stomach ? why did going back to the steadiness of flat ground make you want to vomit ? so you shuffle yourself closer to niall, silently praying that this wasn’t your last day with him.

you stuff your face against his neck and shoulder, body curling up to his side, your hand resting on the warmth of his chest feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, murmuring, “s’a bit cold,” as an excuse to get yourself closer.

“‘course. it’s alright,” he whispers back, taking a deep breath off the top of your head, hoping that you can’t feel the increase in his heart rate. he was tearing himself up inside. with your warmth, your softness, at such a close proximity, his head was doing cartwheels.

niall seriously cannot remember the last time he even had a conversation with a lady, let alone a cuddle with one. he can feel you two getting close, can feel the lingering heat from your breath against his ear. can feel every fibre of his being screaming at him to just kiss you.

but then, there’s that nagging thought in his brain, telling him that it’s a bad idea. especially now, knowing that you have a man back home. and no matter how much you might hate him, you’re still with him. and well, niall refuses to let go of his sweet, kind image that he’s somehow upheld with you. and making you cheat would certainly pop that bubble that you’ve put him in.

and so he does all that he can do. he cuddles you impossibly closer, under the premise of exchanging body heat, and falls asleep with the comforting thought that at least you had one last day together.

it was upon waking up the next morning, that everything seemed to hit you hard. you were going home. back to reality. back to your every day existence. back to normalcy. back to your life without niall. and you hated the sheer thought of it all. however, you really didn’t have an alternative, as you’d quite proven to yourself that a life at sea was nowhere near as nice as you may have imagined.

and so you sit quietly, sadly, in the lifeboat, taking in the last moments with your beautiful pirate man. you make sure to keep him ingrained in your mind, looking over the glint in his deep blue eyes, the smoothness of his sun parched skin, the tufts of soft looking hair, the way his lips part for his tongue to poke out, the freckles lining his cheeks.

the more you take him in, the sadder you become. this truly is the last time you’ll see niall. a reality that hits more and more the closer you get to land, the large port now visible in the distance.

“do you know where you’re going from here ?” niall asks sadly as he helps you out of the boat again. “pirates aren’t really welcomed with open arms out here.”

“yeah,” you sigh, nodding, standing next to him, not wanting to make the first move towards goodbye. the longer you were standing there, the more awkward it was becoming, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leaving quite yet. “where will you go from here ?”

“i’ll find my way,” niall smiles softly, “i always end up right where i need to be.”

he looks over you, head to toe, one last time, shattered by the idea that he needs to say goodbye. he wasn’t meant to be on land, and he could never be selfish enough to force you into a life at sea. no, this was exactly what needed to happen. so he wraps his arms around you, taking a deep breath as he squeezes you tightly, “please don’t worry about me, i’ll be just fine.”

“i’m gonna miss you,” you admit quietly, your eyes pooling with unshed tears, gripping onto him for dear life. “i really wish there was a way for me to thank you. you’ve done so much for me.”

but he’s quick to shake his head, “seeing you safe is thanks enough. seriously couldn’t live with myself if i knew you were stranded somewhere at sea, getting ripped to shreds by some nasty pirates.”

as niall slowly pulls away from the hug, knowing that the longer this moment lasts, the harder it will be for him to actually walk away, he notes the unshed tears filling your eyes. and as much as it pains him, he needs to take that step, make that move towards goodbye.

he cups your cheek in his large hand, your face instantly leaning into his palm, head turning just slightly to peck his wrist.

niall watched you attentively, storing the soft feel of your lips away for a moment where he’ll need the strength, murmuring, “this was my first rowboat trip that had me properly scared. because, i actually had someone to live for. i’m really gonna miss you darling.”

and then, a moment later, the warmth comfort of his hand has fallen, niall nodding his head in a small curtsey, before turning away and rowing off, not giving you a chance to answer.

you stood there watching him until he was nothing more than a spec on the horizon, tears silently rolling down your cheeks, a frog forming in your throat. you were in love with a pirate.

Part 3

……

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tags : @cc-horan28 @acesofspadess @justaranchhand

#niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan blurb #niall horan one shot #niall horan imagine #niall horan au #niall horan writing #niall horan x you #niall horan x reader #niall horan fluff #niall horan masterlist #niall horan series #one direction #hello lovers #writings #justmeinatree

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draco-dormiens · 1 year

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THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Seventeen

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: angst, strong language, a little steamy

wc: 2287

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pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! if your name is bold, i couldn't tag your blog :( tags at the end ♡

Chapter Seventeen - Hope is a Heartache

"To do what, exactly? Upset her even more?" Hermione snaps, and Draco lets go of her wrist.

"Granger-"

"I should scold you for making my friend suffer," she goes on to say, "do you have any idea how hard tonight is for her? What makes you think I'll allow you to make it worse?"

Draco stands, speechless. Hermione is heaving, her eyes hard and cold. He knows the look all to well. He lets out a deep, defeated sigh.

"Please," he pleads quietly, a tone Hermione has never heard before, "please. Let me go after her."

Hermione steadies her breathing, and straightens her posture.

"What are you planning," she asks cooly.

"I just want to talk to her," Draco says sincerely, "that's all. I don't want to hurt her anymore."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Hermione mutters, "the damage is very much done, Malfoy."

"She's told you everything then, huh?" he chuckles sadly.

"As if she wouldn't," says Hermione.

It fell quiet for a few seconds. Hermione could see the turmoil in Draco's features. Momentarily she feels for him and the weight he must be carrying. Just then, from the corner of her eye, she spots Edward frantically looking around the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Go," Hermione speaks quickly, ushering Draco to move, "I'll distract Edward."

"Thanks, Granger-"

"Don't thank me," Hermione spits as she hurries towards the bewildered Ravenclaw boy. Draco could hear her telling Edward that Y/N isn't feeling too well, and that she just needs some time to gather her thoughts.

He rushes through the castle, panicking that you've retreated to your dorm and out of his reach. He makes haste towards the tower, thinking it must be where you've ran off to. Draco opens every door he comes across, skidding around each corner. When he passes the girls toilets, he hears a soft sob coming from within. He takes the chance, not caring who might see him running into the girls lavatory. The quiet whimpers echo in the dark space, and Draco comes to a halt.

"Y/N?" He speaks out, his voice sounding like thunder against the silence. The sobs stop, and a few fleeting seconds pass. One of the toilet doors open, and out steps you.

"Why?" is all you say, beautiful eyes filled with tears. The shadow of the door hides your face, but he can see them glistening in the moonlight. Draco rushes to embrace you, but you step back into the dark. He takes a cautious step backwards.

"What happened back there," he asks gently, but you just shake your head.

"Nothing that concerns you," you mutter quietly. Draco fills with frustration yet again.

"Did he do something?"

"Draco, please," you whimper from the dark, "just go. Astoria will wonder where you've gone."

Silence yet again protrudes the atmosphere. A slight drip from a tap echos in the night as if it were a mighty waterfall. Draco runs his hand through his neat hair.

"Y/N," his voice cuts through the quiet, "can we talk? Please?"

Finally, you emerge from the darkness. Even though your eyes are red and cheeks wet, Draco still thinks you're the most beautiful person he's ever had the pleasure of knowing. His eyes scan your features, the spill of moonlight allowing him to bask in your beauty.

"Talking won't change anything, Draco." You whisper, and he moves to swipe a tear from your cheek. You let him do so.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispers back, choosing to ignore the truth you spoke, "a true picture."

"Thanks," you swallow hard, moving away from the hand on your cheek. His heart hurts.

"I understand tonight has been difficult-"

You scoff, cutting him off as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes.

"Oh, please," you choke, "you know nothing, Draco. If you really must know why I'm sobbing in the loo, Edward tried to kiss me and I ran. I feel like the worst person on earth. None of this is his fault and I left him standing there like an idiot."

A new wave of hot fury enters Dracos veins. It's wrong, he tells himself, to be so wound up, but the sheer thought makes his stomach drop to his feet. He tenses, hands curling into fists, and he wants to go back a lay one right in Chambers face. He has no right to be so mad, and yet, he simply cannot stop himself.

"Are you serious?" He says lowly. You let out an annoyed sigh.

"Yes," you spit, eyes locking with his again, noticing how his have changed completely, "and you have no right to look so infuriated about it. I'm not your girlfriend."

That only pushes him further. His chest begins to heave slightly.

"I'm very aware of that fact," he says, his voice now dangerously low, "and yet, the thought of him anywhere near you makes me feel physically sick."

"This is your choice," you yell at him, voice bouncing off the walls, "we're in this sitatuion because of you, Draco," you take a sharp breath in, throat aching from the sheer volume you just spoke at, and his face is a picture of devastation. He stands, staring back at you as a broken man, his eyes glazed over with a white-hot rage.

"As if I need reminding," his voice does not raise, but stays at that low level, and the sound of it sends a cold shiver down your spine. He steps forwards, coming to hover above you, and you almost cower at his presence, "I haven't done this by choice," he goes on to say, "and yeah, it might be selfish, but I want you. So bad, and if Chambers had-" he stops himself and takes a breath, "I can't help it. You're just... everything."

It stings like salt in a wound. The reality of how far apart you are is incomprehensible. You want to shout and rage about how unfair the world is, but from the look in his eyes, he's already doing that inside his head.

"I'm everything except for the right person," you then say, voice wobbly, "I'm not a pureblood, I'm not one of your mothers favourites, and I'm certainly not good enough to be a Malfoy."

Draco pauses.

"Is that what you really think?" Draco's face is a look of pure shock, "that's fucking stupid."

"Is it?" you then yell again, "because before we started whatever this is," you gesture wildly between the two of you, "you hated people like me. It was bore into you, and deep down that's the reason you chose Astoria over me."

"Again with the fucking choosing," Draco then yells back at you, "no one's choosing anything, you know why this is happening."

"Because you don't have the guts to stand up to your mother, that's why this is happening."

The volume of your voices could rattle the glass in the window frames. Echoing in the dark, melancholy bathroom, the pain you were both battling through was spilling out of your mouths.

"This isn't entirely me," Draco then paces forwards, forcing you to back up, "you gave up before we'd even started. You were the one who said we needed space."

"That's rich, coming from you," you spat venomously, "I only said that because I had to."

He's inches from you now, your faces almost touching, your back against the cold stone wall. The sound of shouting voices was replaced with heavy breathing, and Draco's eyes were onyx, a mixture of frustration and pure want. The tension was building, the air becoming thick, as he inches even closer, brushing his lips over yours. "Please," you mutter, and he wasted no time. Within one swift second, his lips were on yours.

Large hands come to grip your waist, pulling you against him. His lips were soft, smooth, and felt like heaven against yours. You relax into his embrace, kissing him back with fervour. He moans softly into your mouth, sending a wave of electricity throughout your entire body. His hands wander, and you let them, touching, tracing, squeezing gently at your hips, and finally, one moves to cup your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. It's as if he can't get enough of you, the taste of the sparkling drink on your lips, the feeling of your body under his touch. His mind begins to wander to a sultry place, and as if you read his thoughts, your teeth bite down gently on his bottom lip. The sound it rips from him is almost feral. Trapping you between his warm body and the cold stone, his lips move from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck, nipping gently as you breathe his name. His movements falter ever so slightly at the sound, and a tiny, breathless moan resonates against your skin. What felt like forever was in fact only a few fleeting minutes when Draco's grey-blue eyes finally meet yours once more, both of you hazy with lust.

"So beautiful," he whispers, fingers now tracing your jaw, "my girl."

You take in a sharp breath, feeling an ache below your abdomen. Never had you felt this intoxicated with someone before, all this pent up frustration was getting the better of you both, and the nearest cubicle was looking like a grand bedroom to you right now.

Then a voice that could dull even the brightest of rooms penetrated the air like an unwelcome chill.

"This is the ladies room, you know."

Draco breaks from you instantly and spins with red lips and flushed cheeks, to be met with the worst person to break up your intimacy.

"Pansy," he breathes, panic flooding every vessel in his body.

He stumbles, trying and failing to ask what she's doing here, and your throat closes up as soon as you realise who had just seen you both embracing each other.

"I was a little late arriving," she then says airily, strutting forwards as her long fingernails graze the edge of a basin, "my parents don't agree at the best of times, so getting them out of the house together is a real struggle. But, you know all about that, don't you, Dray?"

The nickname tastes like acid in your mouth. She smiles a devilish smile, and you want the ground to swallow you whole. Embarrassment is outweighed by fear, because Pansy Parkinson was a godless woman. Due to her undying love for Draco, her jealous spurts have almost ended the universe several times, and, thanks to you, she had just witnessed her newest vendetta.

"Pansy," Draco says as calmly as possible, "why the hell are you here?"

"Oh, in the ladies bathroom, you mean?" she says, sarcastically, "well, I was only coming here to powder my nose, but it seems I've stumbled across something much more interesting."

Her eyes were gleaming with ill intent. Draco's knuckles were white. You, on the other hand, stood completely still, barely drawing breath.

"Pansy, please turn around and-"

"You're a Ravenclaw, aren't you?" she then says, cutting him off. Her heels click against the tiled floor as she nears you. Draco moves slightly to stop her getting any closer, and her dark eyes slide to meet his, "I remember her. Halfblood, right?"

"Pansy," Draco stresses one last time, his voice shaking with fury, "please, for the love of God, turn around and pretend you saw nothing."

She backs away slowly, stopping to stand and fold her arms, putting her weight onto one hip. She smiles that awful smile once more.

"You're parents don't know, do they?" she then utters slyly. The amusement in her voice is sickening. Then she gasps, dramatically putting her hand to her mouth, "and Astoria?"

"Why the fuck are you even here?" Draco then seethes, louder and more impatient, "McGonagall seriously invited you and your pathetic parents?"

"Now, now," Pansy giggles, "don't get mad with me, Dray. I merely came here for my own personal reasoning. I had no idea you were wooing a halfblood-"

He closes the gap between them, and Pansy lets out a genuine squeak of surprise. You grip your dress in a sorry attempt to ground yourself.

"Listen," Draco's low, dark voice returns, "all I'm asking is that you keep your damn mouth shut."

"Ashamed?" Pansy then whispers, eyebrow quirking. She's braver than she looks.

"Not even close," Draco then mutters back, his fists so tight his nails were digging into skin. Your body feels cold, a sweat trickling down your back. There was no way this could get any worse, but then Draco speaks again, "this woman is everything to me, and if you try and hurt her, I swear to God I will ruin your life, Parkinson. Don't forget, I know you too well."

Pansy swallows thickly, her mouth turning into a sour frown. A few suffocating seconds pass.

"Like I'd gain anything from telling," she then spits, "I'll keep your dirty little secret, Draco. Besides, wouldn't want your mother finding out how you chose to spend your free time."

She gives you a look that most certainly could kill a man, and you feel yourself physically shaking. Pansy locks eyes with Draco one last time, before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom like a scolded child. The silence once she disappears is deafening.

"Y/N,"

"It's okay," you manage to croak, "you don't need to say anything."

"She won't. She might be a snake, but for me she'd keep her mouth shut." Draco looks frantic, eyes all over your face. He was panicking, trying to convince himself that Pansy wouldn't betray him.

"This isn't about me," you say, concerned, "this is about you and your parents shunning you for a life time, over me of all people."

"Don't say that," he said, coming to cup your face in his hands, "they can do what they want to me. I just don't want you getting hurt anymore."

Even when his worst nightmare was close to becoming a reality, he was still all about you.

"Draco," you smile faintly, taking his hands from your face, "you're always thinking of others, and never yourself," you hold his hands in yours and press a gentle kiss to his face, "please, for me, think of your own feelings for once."

You make him feel so loved, so wanted, and if he could stay in this toilet forever he would. Your shiny eyes, gentle touches and kind words are all he needs to feel safe in this world. He presses his forehead to yours, and closes his eyes contently.

He wishes he had the courage to stay here.

"It's not fair," he whispers, and silent tears run one after the other down his cheeks.

"Life isn't fair," you then whisper to him, nudging your nose against his, "but I like to think that, maybe, in another lifetime, we're happy somewhere. Together."

There's a comfortable silence between you.

"Do you think Pansy will do anything?" He then mutters to you, clearly still worrying, and you bring him into a hug. He holds you impossibly close.

"I don't think she has the guts," you laugh lightly, but it's still sad, and deep down you're fearing the exact same thing, "Draco, you have more power over this situation than you think, and Pansy has no proof. I doubt your mother would believe her babbling."

He nuzzles into your shoulder. You're not sure if you even believe yourself, but Draco's body is relaxed in your embrace, and even if your words are fragile enough to snap, they did their purpose.

"At least I finally got to kiss you," he mumbles, and you smile through trickling tears.

"We better get cleaned up, Draco. Our dates will be waiting for us and we don't want to cause anymore suspicion," you say softly, breaking from him.

Before he can say anymore, you're stroking his cheek one last time and waltzing out of the bathroom, but not without one more look back at him. Draco remains frozen to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Both his longing desire and worst nightmare had come to fruition within moments of each other. Eventually he wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket and leaves the bathroom, entering the hallway to hear the faint sound of music drifting through the castle. He has no intention of heading back to Astoria, so instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and heads for the outer grounds of the school.

The night air is cold. The grounds are bathed in a golden light from the castle windows, and he walks the path down to the Quidditch pitch. No one will be there at this hour, surely. He walks into the entrance. The stands are bare, showing the wooden skeleton of the arena. He halts once he reaches the middle of the pitch. It's silent. The distant hoot of an owl sounds as he stares at the stand you were sitting in during his practice. Life isn't fair, you said. Isn't that just the truth, he wonders. He then turns his attention to the sky and the stars that litter the inky blackness, and thinks back to your days stargazing in the tower. An overwhelming sadness protrudes him, as he takes a deep breath and mutters to the heavens;

"Aunt Bella, please pick on someone else for once."

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits

tags:

@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot t @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @hnyusui @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @born2222die @anarchistsons

#draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff #hpau

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gracexthoughts · 4 months

Text

of violent delights chap 25

the first task

28 november 1996

Mattheo’s POV

Harry and Mia spent nearly all of their free time over the last week practicing for the first task. I helped occasionally but Harry seemed more comfortable with just Mia. I’m not totally sure he knows who to trust right now and while I don’t blame him, it still stings a bit. According to Mia, Harry managed to pick up the spell fairly well but any time he got flustered or nervous he’d falter, which when you’re facing a life and death situation is not ideal. They spent most of the morning practicing again this morning, just to be certain but by the time lunch rolled around, Mia was saying she felt as confident as possible that he’ll be okay. If she wasn't in class, on prefect rounds, or doing school work, she was with Harry. It doesn't help that we don't have rounds together this year. I’ve tried not to feel neglected but I feel like I’ve barely seen my girlfriend all week.

An amphitheater was erected out on the grounds near the edge of the forest, a small tent with medical aid for the champions to get ready in and be cared for afterwards to the side, and although I can’t see where they are keeping the dragons currently, I can hear their roars. I sit in the stands with Theo and Enzo next to me as students and teachers file in, the anticipation palpable in the fall air for the first task.

I catch a glimpse of red hair at the bottom of the stands and straighten up, watching Mia as she climbs the stairs of the amphitheater, Astoria, Angelina, and Alicia in her wake. She’d walked Harry to the Champions tent but McGonagall had warned Mia during lunch that she couldn’t stay with him. She's wearing a Quidditch jumper, the red and gold of her house matching the champions uniform Harry was given, ‘Potter’ emblazoned on the backs.

Over the last few weeks, the Potter siblings have come under heavy fire from the three student bodies at Hogwarts but Mia is unwavering in her confidence, at least on the outside and in front of Harry. But I know that’s not the whole story. Even from a distance, I can see the anxiety in her features; her creased brow and bottom lip caught between her teeth and, as she moves to stand in front of me, I notice blood around her cuticles from picking at her skin.

“Hey baby,” I say with a smile, looking up at the beautiful woman in front of me, taking her hand in mine and squeezing tightly, wishing I could heal the scabs around her nails with a kiss.

“Hey, Matty,” she says quietly, and then greets Theo and Enzo. “Nice jumper,” she jokes as she sits next to me. I’m wearing a black jumper with the Hogwarts crest on the chest. I had tried to fit into one of Mia’s Quidditch kits but she’s quite a bit smaller than me and I kinda got my head stuck, it was a whole ordeal last night. She offered me a Gryffindor scarf but I declined; the only way I’m wearing Gryffindor colors is with her last name on the back.

“Hm thanks. Feeling okay?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand and the ridges of her scar.

She nods and looks out over the arena for the task; the amphitheater is a large circle with stands surrounding three quarters of the way around, a tunnel on the far side with the champions’ tent on the other side. The center is rough and rocky, luckily providing plenty of places to duck behind in case of fire, which is likely.

“Yeah, he did well this morning. I hid his broom just outside so he should be able to get it fairly quickly. He'll be okay,” she says, seeming to say it to reassure herself rather than me.

“Place your bets! Any bets?!” I turn as the Weasley Twins voices ring out over the stands, betting boxes hanging from their neck; always ones to find ways to make money. Mia told me they are saving for some kind of shop or something for after we're done at Hogwarts.

“Mia! Hey,” George says, noticing us first and making his way over. “Harry’s gonna do great,” he says, certainly trying to be reassuring but I can see the slight doubt in his eyes as a dragon roars somewhere nearby and I squeeze Mia’s hand again.

“Thanks, Georgie,” she says with a small smile.

“Hey, you guys want to place any bets?” Fred asks, coming up behind his twin and Theo and Enzo nod, handing over a few coins and whispering their bets to Fred.

“Alright, Phe, we’ll be back soon,” Fred says, wrapping his arms around Mia’s shoulders in a hug. I grit my teeth at the sight and don’t unclench until the Twins move along. I trust Mia, I do, but I still can’t help the jealousy that climbs into my throat every time someone else touches my girlfriend, especially her best friend. Not that I think they’re into each other, although I used to think they were dating before Mia corrected me during a prefect round last year, but more that Fred Weasley has known Mia for 6 years and been there for her through more trials and struggles than I think I could ever comprehend. Every story of Mia’s includes the Twins; pranks she helped pull, how they rescued her and Harry from their muggle relatives one summer, every time she snuck out of the castle, every time she was struggling or upset they were there. I can’t help but feel inadequate by comparison.

Soon the stands are full and Dumbledore stands, holding his hands for silence. Extending from either side of him are the rest of the judges: Maxine, Karkaroff, Ludo Bagman and Crouch.

“Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!” The Headmaster announces and is answered by cheers and shouts from the crowd. “Our first task has been designed to test our champions’ daring and courage. Each champion has been randomly assigned a dragon to face off against, armed only with their wands. Their task is to retrieve the golden egg the dragons have been given to protect, for hidden in the egg is the key to the second task, without which, our champions cannot hope to succeed.” I squeeze Mia’s hand, noticing how her shoulders tense at the revelation at how crucial this task will be. Looking at my girlfriend, my heart aches. I wish I could take all her worries from her and wrap her in my arms, never to be touched by fear or pain again. But instead, all I can do is hold her hand and smile reassuringly.

“Up first, is Cedric Diggory facing a Swedish Short-Snout!” The announcer yells out and at his words, dragon wranglers appear out of the large of two tunnels which spill into the arena, leading a blue-gray dragon.

“Hey, look there’s Charlie!” Fred says from behind Mia and I, pointing down at the wrangler with flaming red hair and I realize it's the same Weasley Mia was sitting next to at the World Cup.

“Yeah, Haz said he was there when Hagrid showed him the dragons,” Mia nods as the wranglers chain the first dragon to the rocks and the creature settles over the gleaming golden egg in the center. "Charlie is the second oldest Weasley. He lives in Romania working with dragons," Mia whispers to me and I nod. The crowd roars as Diggory emerges from the smaller tunnel and the first task of the Triwizard Tournament officially begins. Fred mutters something about Diggory to George which I don’t catch but Mia does apparently, because she turns around and lightly smacks Fred’s knee.

“Stop,” she scolds, rolling her eyes and turning back to the arena where the Hufflepuff makes his first move towards the egg. Mia grimaces along with the crowd as the dragon cuts Cedric off of his path with a blaze of fire.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Diggory,” I say to Mia, my eyes trained on her face. Her brow furrows and her eyes dart to me.

“I’m not, really,” she says with a shrug. “The twins just don’t like him because he caught the Snitch when Harry passed out from the dementors last term.” The crowd gasps around us as Diggory ducks behind a rock, very nearly getting scorched, and the dragon roars.

“He cheated. It was totally unfair,” George says from behind us and Angelina scoffs.

“It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t realize Harry wasn’t well and when he did notice he begged Hooch for a rematch,” Angelina defends.

“Even Oliver didn’t blame him!” Alicia adds.

“Honestly, the two of you hold grudges for Harry and I longer than we ever do,” Mia chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully and reaching back to pat Fred’s knee.

“Whatever,” George grumbles, eyeing the back of Angelina’s head.

Cedric retrieves his golden egg in 15 minutes, having transformed a rock into a dog which he used to distract the dragon. It worked well enough, but he got burned before he managed to capture the egg. Fleur finished in 10 minutes and managed to charm the dragon to sleep; however, she also caught fire when the dragon snored. And Krum, the best so far, managed to hit the dragon in the eye with a spell and got his egg quickly, although the dragon trampled most of the real eggs which the judges deducted points for. The closer and closer we get to Harry’s turn, the tenser Mia gets and the more excited the crowd gets. “And now, our final champion, Harry Potter, faces off with the Hungarian Horntail!” The announcer exclaims and the crowd is a mix of cheers and taunts for the unexpected fourth champion.

“A Hungarian Horntail?” Mia exclaims, her green eyes wide, “All Fleur got was a Welsh Green!”

“A dragon is a dragon, I’m not sure the type really matters, Mia,” Theo shrugs, craning to catch a glimpse of the oncoming dragon.

“It’s alright, he can handle it,” I say, squeezing her hand as the dragon is escorted out and chained to the center of the arena. The Horntail crouches low over the eggs, sulfurous yellow eyes darting around the geering crowd. Her body is black and her long tail spiked, as well as her head, which she thrashes around, leaving gashes in the ground with each pass. Looking at the fearsome dragon, I think I’d rather face any of the others as well.

The whistle blows and soon, Harry emerges from the champions’ tunnel. He looks very nervous and pale but his eyes are trained on the dragon across from him. Even from a distance he looks determined. Mia takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand so tightly her ring begins digging into my skin. Before Harry can raise his wand, the Horntail roars loudly and, slamming her tail on the dragon and sending shards of rock flying, sends a column of fire towards the tunnel. Harry manages to leap out of the way and scurries behind a large rock. Mia’s free hand flies to her face as she watches.

Once the Horntail has stopped assaulting the back of Harry’s hiding place, Harry slowly peaks around the rock and flicks his wand towards the castle, presumably summoning his broom. “C’mon, Haz,” Mia mutters as Harry stumbles back as the dragon brings her spiked bronze tail down in front of Harry, very narrowly missing him. Just then, Harry’s Firebolt rushes into the arena and towards Harry. “YES!” Mia yells, pumping her fist in excitement at their hard work paid off, and sitting forward in her seat looking like she's about to leap into he arena herself. Harry leaps onto his broom and takes off into the air until he’s out of range of the Horntail and then dives sharply. The dragon follows Harry and releases a jet of fire towards him, but Harry skillfully pulls out of the dive just in time. Unfortunately, the dragon’s tail sweeps up in the air and slices Harry’s shoulder, and the Gryffindors around me gasp and grimace but Harry continues to fly around the dragon, circling and diving.

Harry begins trying to get the dragon to fly, but she’s reluctant; too protective of her eggs that Harry desperately needs to get his hands on. Harry begins inching his way higher and higher, baiting the dragon. Suddenly, the Hungarian Horntail spreads her wings and begins flying up towards Harry but before she can get to him, Harry dives sharply, plummeting to the earth. Mia jumps up yelling encouragement as Harry speeds closer and closer to the egg. And his hands wrap around it, he soars up and away with it clutches tightly in his hands and we all jump up screaming, Mia the loudest of us all.

“He did it!” George and Fred cheer, clapping Mia on the back as we all celebrate.

“Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! How fantastic!” The announcer shouts excitedly, clearly in awe of Harry’s flying.

“I’ve got to go find him!” Mia says, turning to me with a smile wider than I’ve seen on her face since Halloween.

“Congratulate him for me, princess,” I nod, kissing her forehead and she nods and pushes her way off through the crowd towards her brother. The rest of us wait in the stands until we see Harry emerge again, presumably from the Med Tent since his shoulder is now bandaged up, with Mia at his side to watch the scores from the judges. Hermione and Ron stand with the Potters as well.

“Looks like Ron’s finally managed to get his wand out of his ass,” Fred chuckles to George.

The judges, one by one, raise their wands and score Harry's performance out of 10. Harry ties for first place along with Victor Krum. Even from a distance, I can see the relief and pride radiating from Mia and right now, all that matters to me is maintaining that happiness forever.

a/n; this is so late im so sorry, life has been crazy lately so i havent had much time for writing but i promise im not abandoning this, it just might be a little longer between updates for a while so if you want to be added to the taglist lmk! thanks as always for reading and ily all

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @stxrsberkshire @abaker74 @helendeath

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #matteo riddle #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hp fanfic #hogwarts houses #wizarding world #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle

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caramel-covered-apples · 4 months

Text

potter-weasley-lupin-malfoy clan vlogging

@scrxpz :)

when phones are first introduced into the wizarding world, harry buys one and begins taking ridiculous amounts of photos of the wotter clan, all of which are printed out and stuffed into "the picture book" which is a collection of all the pictures taken.

james loves stealing harry's phone for pictures and eventually figures out how to film videos. he takes videos of random shit - teddy changing his hair color, victoire braiding the dominique's hair, albus and scorpius snuggling in perhaps the gayest fashion possible together on the couch, etc. harry eventually relents and buys a family phone so that they can all take videos, and hence, the vlogs begin.

shortly after they've begun their vlogging, harry says that they could technically upload them to the muggle internet if they're careful about teddy's metamorphmagus powers, pots cleaning themselves, etc. all the kids love this idea and make an account labeled "the weasels" which is where all of their videos go.

james always volunteers to film, but he is notorious for not holding the camera straight and catching anything but what's meant to be filmed.

teddy goes through all of the videos before they're posted and makes sure that there's no magic in them.

the kids take turns with the family phone and when they can't be together, they'll film little tidbits of their life in their homes.

albus is the best at filming, but scorpius constantly distracts him and they all end up having to do it again.

all of the videos are genuine, and half the time, their most popular ones weren't meant to be filmed.

sometimes, when a person can't be there, teddy will fill their place.

the internet raves over the weasels and absolutely adores their dynamics, although some things are a bit speculative ("anyone noticed the giant hoops in one of the backyards?" "why do they have a closet full of brooms? their house isn't that dusty.." "they don't have a dishwasher!" "am i crazy or did i see an owl at the window at 4:39 in the video?")

some videos are very short and simple, like hugo talking about a flower he found outside or roxanne complaining about fred's antics.

when the account was newly made, people kept asking for a family tree because fuck, is that family huge. because nobody can remember what kid belongs to what parent, they link it in every video.

teddy x victoire is a very popular ship among the muggles on the internet and it drives victoire insane.

same thing with albus x scorpius, which honestly, nobody was surprised about, causing both albus and scorpius to be insanely embarrassed because they thought nobody suspected them.

occasionally, draco & astoria or andromeda will pop in one of the videos and the comments will be flooded with "the family can't get much bigger, can it?"

their most popular video is the whole family going to an amusement park. it features teddy and victoire secretly getting filmed while going on a "date" (teddy offered to pay for victoire's ice cream)

harry is dubbed "everyone's favorite uncle" because he got teddy a motorcycle for his eighteenth birthday and he has a pet snake.

#weasley family #next generation #harry potter next generation #harry potter next gen #vlog #headcanon

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ormir · 4 months

Text

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯. // a flashback.

Featuring: Prince Orhan Gökhan. Location: The plains of Astoria, some twenty years ago. Trigger warnings: Gay yearning, suggestive themes.

"Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounding and giving And darkening scorn"

The canvas tarp breathed in deep, languid pulls with the warm night breeze. Light danced at the end of a candle, giving the illusion that the red and gold tarp walls moved organically, reactively, like the cavern of some great organ. A silent womb. Only the sound of cloth and buckles disrupted it. Ormir was lifted from quiet sleep by the kiss of the light against his eyelids. A silhouette passed, obscuring the source, just as he realized how cold and spacious the cot felt around him. The world was still and black beyond the tent’s walls. Awake already? The Raven-Feeder’s naked chest arched on a full breath, and the deep stretch cured all his ails. The bloom of pollen had set off like a bomb after weeks of steady rain on the Astorian plains, and the Iskarans were only just recovering. Adding wet vision and congestion to the mucky pit fight that had been made of the battlefield resulted in quite the miserable cocktail. A few days of sun and silence had been bliss.

Lately the prince had been distant, absorbed in thought. Ormir had tried not to internalize the neglect he felt, nor to be disused as the sounding board he’d offered to be. He tasted how his obstination had soured into regret as he slept. When their antlers locked in a difference of opinion, as was inevitable, the natural progression was for the two men to plant themselves equally firm in their beliefs, stoking their own flames higher and hotter in contest, until the passion morphed into the harmonious, desperate roll of bodies that brought a little death to the argument. It was unlikely that they’d touch the subject again until Orhan broached it in daylight.

Ormir watched the backlit shape of him now, as he laced his trousers by candlelight. The gold cast distinguished the weight of his body through the sheer drape of his tunic, defining how his muscled form moved like sculpture. In his trance, Ormir was torn between inking the image into memory and disrupting it, to call Orhan back to him and illustrate an apology. But the conviction in the Prince’s movements told him that he’d already made up his mind.

“They won’t be expecting you until dawn, you know.” Ormir perforated the silence, the rasp of sleep and sex grating in his voice. Some water would soothe it, but he let it be.

“Yes.” Orhan’s silhouette responded without a hitch. He must have sensed his company waking, and must have already braced for questioning.

“And you’re aware that they still fully intend on undermining your plans?” The soldier retrod the ground they’d pulverized in argument the night before.

“Yes, I know.” Defeat rang in the noble’s words. Orhan sat and gathered his long, dark hair with a comb of his hands to pin it in a high knot. The practiced motion was fluid, and called attention to the thread of silver that was coming in at his temples.

The younger man groaned softly in protest, lifting onto his elbows so that the lithe lines of his body were visible. His eyes strained to find focus in the dim light. “So you’re comfortable with losing sleep to them?”

“I need my rationale to be perfect,” Orhan said matter-of-factly, as he was arranging parchments in order on the table’s surface. “If only so that I can put it to rest gracefully.”

Or you could just have them choke on it, Ormir bottled the thought, once again annoyed by the grace his counterpart commanded. He rose slowly, found his long, moth-eaten tunic among the scattered clothes and slipped it on. He poured water from Orhan’s carafe and drank it. Old sweat and grime was dried on his skin, and Ormir yearned for a bath. There was a standing offer for one, if he chose. The luxuries of the Prince’s life had largely been extended to him. Something always stopped him short of opting in, though. Unworthiness? Guilt? Jealousy? Or would it just make what they had together too real? It probably wouldn’t help to unearth it. Against his intentions, Ormir found that he’d gravitated to where Orhan sat, massaging the meat of his shoulder while the Prince laced his boots.

This life, his reputation, his choice of companion, would have been bile-inducing to the back-alley tradesman he was a year ago. He’d come from nothing, he’d rescued himself from the feral Skjaldwoods, bought his own blades for vanity’s sake and was catalyzed into a butcher and the prince’s personal lap dog. Perhaps he hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

“You should come.” Orhan spoke suddenly, in the cadence of an epiphany.

Ormir’s expression tightened. “I’m sorry?” The first instinct was to laugh, because he must’ve misheard.

“You should come, Ormir.” The Prince repeated. The words commanded from the diaphragm, in the confident, regal timbre Orhan used in reserve. The Raven-Feeder would be flustered by it if he hadn’t been so shocked. “Listen in, watch the moves in play. Deliver your stratagem straight from your mouth – you know I always botch the details anyway.” The prince’s voice softened, as did his eyes. “Sit at the table, beside me.” Squared, calloused fingertips brushed over the delicate skin of Ormir’s wrist, hot as a brand. “Or just stand in the corner as a fly on the wall if that’s too demanding for you.”

Breath was slippery and hard to hold in constant rhythm. The weight of expectancy was suddenly crushing with Orhan’s deep, trusting gaze trained on him, and Ormir was squirming to find a way out of it.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” He stammered, convincing his hand to pull from the caress. The Prince’s added diversions would not work on him, as he’d recently allowed them to. “I’m a conscript, I’m no strategist.”

“I am, and you are.”

“I can’t sit on your council.” He insisted. The power was attractive, of course it was. Rumors and embellished fantasies of the blademaster and The Raven-Feeder were already making the rounds through Iskaran campfires, and a wealth of penetrating glances lanced in him each time he’d leave the Prince’s tent. To feel the condensed heat of judgment within the closed circle of Orhan’s advisory, though, would be too much to bear.

“Why not? You’d be welcomed.”

“No, I’d be pitied.” Ormir’s voice raised and shook on the edge. “I have no more merit to weigh my opinions into Iskalrdik’s future than any other mongrel in this camp who can smell a storm approaching.”

A moment passed without words, just the steady exchange of wounded stares. Ormir pulled out of it first, casting his eyes into unfocused space above the Prince’s shoulder. He knew looking down meant seeing the crimson drip of Orhan’s trust coating his hands, wrung out by his cowardice.

“Do you think so little of me?” Orhan asked, decoding the subtle shifts in Ormir’s face. The Raven-Feeder was naked before him, a vivisected spread of wounds and resentments exposed to the open air. “I extend the offer as your liege, and a solid judge of talent where I see it. I would not make the mistake of inviting any ponce who warms by bed to pillow-talk about Iskaldrik’s war strategy, so you can rid yourself of that delusion. You would do good here.”

When he was met with silence, Orhan stood and gathered his materials from the table. Anger didn’t announce itself in his manner. That was saved for the cathartic surge of battle, or for their rituals at night. Ormir rode the wave of discomfort until Orhan closed the distance and kissed him, softly, in parting. The gesture burned with sincerity, and it took everything in Ormir not to be consumed by love for him. Even then, The Raven-Feeder knew he’d feel the man’s ghost for the rest of his life.

“Think about it.” The words breathed into his mouth. Then the warmth was gone, and the canvas door flapped shut and left him alone.

#(m. // orhan.)#(l. // astoria.)#( self para. )

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sandervansunshine · 1 year

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Fic stats game so many tag games oh my god

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

Okiii thank you @nanneramma and @girl-with-goats and @allalrightagain

Most hits: Thank You For All Your Loving (31k) My Jegulus flufftober fic from last year, lots of silly little fluffy nonsense. I liked the brother chapters the best though, love me some cute sibling bonding

Second most kudos: My Glass Heart Shattered, You Bastards (2.9k) An goofy, overdramatic, cracky Wolfstar where Sirius finds out his wee brother and his beloved hooked up before he and Remus were ever together. And he's uh not super pleased haha

Third most comments: Omg this one's a tie!! The Magic of Love (1.9k) a flash fic featuring my favorite OC, my guy ROD, who manages the adult shop in which Lucius Malfoy works. It's basically the worst day of Lucius's life when Harry Potter strolls in one day looking for a snake toy Through the Middlegame (6.5k) A survival adventure fic featuring Peter Pettigrew and Astoria Greengrass as a pair of unlikely friends. I have become very very fond of this one <3

Fourth most bookmarks: Weapons of Massive Consumption (38.6k) My first kinda long thing, featuring Drarry, written for H/D Wireless! Sometimes kinda funny, sometimes quite sad, I really love these boys.

Fifth most words: Painting Away the Shadows of Your Soul and Mine (11k) I actually adore this one, it's a Nottpott I wrote for the HPFC Tarot fest! Eighth year Harry having a lil gay panic, featuring lots of paint. One of my favs!

Fic with least words: On the Nights He Can Look (642) Written for the loveliest art by @felixantares, features a cute little Jegulus scene.

Okay if you've already been tagged ignore me there are too many of these running around and I can't keep track haha but you're up: @luxuriousmalfoy @lilithphantasterei @venom0usbarbie

#tag game #hp fanfic #ao3 stats game

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plotandburn · 1 year

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Harry Potter Gets Adopted By

Rules:

No reader-inserts, self-inserts or unhappy endings are allowed.

spanking, watersports, extremely underage ships or parent/child incest are only allowed if portrayed on a negative light.

Peter Petigrew and Dolores Umbridge must be bashed

Dumbledore must be gay and atracted to Grindewalt and Grindewalt alone.

poor grammar is not allowed (you don't need a beta but at least use grammarly some form of grammar corrector)

You are not allowed to bash Severus Snape, Sirius Black,Draco Malfoy or Remus Lupin.

In the prompts set on Timmy's Era, Timmy himself can't be praired with: Tottie, Chloe Carmichael, Geraldine Waxelplax or His Parents.

Out of Timmy Turner's Peers, Only Trixie Tang is allowed to,should the writer chose, be a wixen,everyone else has to remain a muggle...and yes that includes Timmy himself.

Timmy's Secret Wish! is garbage and therefore should be compleatly ignored in each and every single prompt on this list. Same applies to the Grow Up Timmy Turner movies

Like a good portion of the fandom, i hate Sparky the dog so the writer of these prompts must pretend that Sparky never even existed to begin with and thus any epiosdes centered on him must be disconsidered entirely.

However episodes where he is featured as a side character can be included,just replace him with Poof

While Chloe Carmichael is allowed to exist and live in dimsdale she is not allowed to have fairies. On these prompts we are going under the rule that "Fairies only grant wishes to miserable people of the dominant species of Earth whose misery was caused by circunstances outside of their control. If the godchild for whatever reason becomes cheerful or the godkid says, "I'm happy and don't need my godparents anymore," the fairies will leave them and search for another miserable kid"...meaning that : No Chloe you can't get fairy odd parents because you stupidly chose to help a monster and that caused you misery for...like a day.

Hagrid can only be paired with Madame Maxine and no one else

Mad Eye Moody and Amelia Bones can't be paired with anyone

Minerva Mcgonagal can only be paired with Poppy Pomfrey or anyone on the staff that she never taugh herself.

Crabbe and Goyle can only be paired with Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass,Milicent, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, eachother or an Oc.

Cosmo/Wanda must be endgame.....Anti-Cosmo/AntiWanda however must NOT.

Da Rules must be followed.

New Rules that must be added later:

Rules 1 ("When a godkid reveals whose fairies theirs secretly are, they and any other witnesses shall have their memories wiped by Jorgen and his agents (who can sometimes make the godchild horribly disfigured) and their fairies and magical items they have come in contact will be taken away by Jorgen. However, if Jorgen doesn't find out, he can't take the godkid’s fairies away or if the witnesses understand how much the fairies means to the godchild then said child can keep them under conditions that the witnesses have their memories erased.") and 27 ("When you has reached the age of no longer needing a fairy or when they are completely grown-up personality-wise, they will have their mind erased of all memories involving their fairy/fairies, the fairy/fairies will leave either in the Fairy Cab or with Jorgen Von Strangle and everything magic will disappear forever.") do not aplly to wixens as the fairy's method of memory erasure is not effective against wixens and....even if it where every single wixen can see and hear fairies even when they are disguised.

Now...onto the prompts. These will be divided into "Timmy's Era", "There's no way this is not Crack", "In Between eras" and Tammy & Tommy's Era".

so....Lets Go:

so.....aparently fanon decided to name them Nataliya Turner & Daran Turner so if you ever want a name for them feel free to use those. Anyway, in this instance Harry would basically be Timmy's brother wich means that they would not only share parents but also fairy godparents and...you guessed Vicky! so while Mrs and Mr Turner would treat them with love on the few ocasions in wich they are present they would also be absent more often than not. Uh....this Harry could fit into basically any house and date anyone,much like Timmy so... the sky is the limt.

.like in the first prompt Harry would have to face Vicky...only now he would face her pretty much 24/7 only being free from her in the brief moments were she leaves to babysit/tourment other kids so....Cosmo & Wanda would not be his fairies,'cause they would belong to Timmy at this point but he should probably get someone else.....or not,choice is up to you. This harry would definetly be a griffyndor 'cause he would resent his parents for being so coward. Pretty sure he wouldn't favor readheads 'cause they would remind him of Vicky.

Harry would basically be Remmy's brother wich means he would share Juandissimo and the extreme emotional neglect so...he probably be starved for affection of any kind and cling to Remy and any friends that he makes. This Harry would probably be a huflepuff and as for ship...pretty much anyone besides Percy, Severitus and Hermione is ok.

This Harry would have everything he could ever ask for and a best friend for life in the form of his own sister Trixie who would use his status as a boy to make her dad buy a shit ton of boy stuff like comics wich they would then share, with Harry hiding everything in his room. Harry would be pretty happy overall but he would often wish that their dad never forced them to uphold the image of distant popular kids (and yeah...pretty sure it's their parents 'cause Trixie definetly dosen't pay the securty guard herself). He would be pretty sympathetic of Timmy and even act friendly towards him on ocassions where they do talk. This Harry would probably be either a Gryffindor or a Sytherin and i think he would be better suited for a slytherin due to his upbringing.

Harry would basically be Aj's brother, thus he would basically HAVE to be science Genious in order to fit in...or you could go a different route and have him be an art genious instead...but he'd have to be a genious of some kind. This Harry would probably fit in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Recomended ships: Hermione, Percy, Neville or Luna

This Harry is Chester's brother and would probably bond with the Weasley's more than anyone else,due to their similar upbringing. I think it would be funny if... Despite being a Mcbadbat he was actually awesome at baseball. He would probably be Slytherin or a gryffindor. As for ships, the sky is the limt.

Ok so...they basically either raise Harry in the Anti-Fairy world to be their godson or turn him into an Anti-Fairy so that he can be their son by blood (choice is up to you). Regardless of your choice though, Harry would probably end up as a goth...and probably a bookworm due to Anti-Cosmo's influence. He would be much less of a goody goody, taking active joy in watching his parents (whom he would view as such regardless of your choice) cause bad luck on friday 13th.I'd imagine he would be more drawn towards Percy, Hermione, The Weasley Twins or any slytherin that is not Crabbe or Goyle and his house would be either slytherin or ravenclaw.

There's No Way that's not Crack:

Harry would be the og Cleft the Boy Chin Wonder but he would be SUPER tired of constantly fighting crime, thus would basically jump for joy whenever Timmy Turner takes his place with Cosmo and Wanda turning him into Timmy and sending him into the real world to fool Timmy's parents wich would become harder once he gets his Hogwarts letter at 11 and has to leave USA for several months . He would be unaware that he lives in a comic book untill Timmy mentions the comic's writer to his dad and one of their arch nemesis. This Harry would definetly be either a Huflepuff or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol or a soldir.

This Harry would be SO embarassed of his dad....Like....for real....You think Chester Mcbadbat is embarassed of his dad? well that is nothing compared to what Harry James West fells. He wishes he could die everytime is dad does cat stuf in plublic and it forced him to basically grow up super fast in order to be his dad's owner (in a non sexual way ofc) meaning he is the one to give him food in a bowl and clean his shit from the sandbox. He basically hates his life so when the hogwarts letter comes he jumps for joy, trilled with the chance to get away but he does spend christmas with his dad 'cause he still misses him despite everything. Still he is as trilled as his canon self when presented with the oportunity to live with Sirius....speaking of Sirius, whoever picks this prompt must be a masterat writing comedy/humor cause They MUST provide me (and the other readers) with funny interactions between Wolfstar (together or not) and Catman/Adam West where the latter is irrationally frightened of the former two for being a dog animagus(Sirius) & a werewolf(Remus). This harry would definetly be a slytherin and would not date cat owners,cat people or cat animagus because he has had enough of cats in his life.

In Between Eras:

Ok so...the reason why this is "in between Eras" is because this prompt, like the one's that follow would happen in the movies timeline meaning it would be set in the 200's rather than in the 90's like Hp actually is. Harry would be a baby during the envents of Foop, only going to Hogwarts during Tammy & Tommy's era. being the son of who he is Harry James Skylark would have an amazing singing voice & dance skills wich would probably be what atracts his romatic interest to him. He would probably be Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol for the get go.

Tammy and Tommy's Era:

this prompt in particular is what inspired this whole list and it was created based on the pixies last line on the following episode:

youtube

So in this pompt Harry is adopted by the pixies who raise him...pretty much the same way they raised Flappy Bob meaning Harry is...basically raised to be a brilliant executive who legit thinks desk job is fun. This Harry would probably be a Slytherin or Ravenclaw and....TBH out of everyone i think he would be most Drawn to the Weasley Twins, who would hate his parents instantly for how they raised him and show him new ways to have fun.

This would be the only instance where Harry would still go by his birth name for no reason other than the fact that, while he would very much view Cosmo & Wanda as his parents and they would with time view him as a son, he would still be raised at the Dursley's. Cosmo and Wanda would be assigned to him as soon as Albus Dumbledore leaves him on their doorstep and they would be the one's who actually provide Harry with the love and care that he needs. This Harry would be no different than canon Harry so...the sky is the limit on both houses and shipping.

#harry potter #plot bunny #harry potter gets adopted by #harry potter is raised by othes #pro severus snape #pro sirius black #pro snape #fairly oddparents #crack #Youtube

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soicysandwich · 1 year

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Kitchen Nightmares S8 Ep 01 - Bel Aire Diner Review

**SPOILERS**

Random Thoughts;

Peter lowkey reminds me of this one dude I sat behind in Spanish class my freshman year

Also can we talk about how the two brothers are basically the duo from Oceana (Moe and Rami) but reversed…

Main Review:

The sound effects present in the original American series, such as the waterphone, dramatic music, etc, have been toned down. Similarly, Ramsay himself has calmed down significantly. The revival so far reminds me of the UK version, which is a major plus

The first three quarters of the episode were paced well and had plenty of drama. However, the renovation segment and final dinner service were extraordinarily rushed

These owners (or at least, one of the main two) were likable. Kal seemed like he desperately wanted the business to succeed, even sacrificing time with his family to do so. Peter was extraordinarily lazy for the majority of the episode. Patty at first seemed ok, unfortunately, she was against some of the changes. This makes sense since Bel Aire reverted back to their old menu just days after Ramsay’s visit

If there is one part of Kitchen Nightmares that is universally enjoyed by fans, it would definitely be the kitchen investigation segment. This episode did not disappoint, with Ramsay venturing into, arguably, the worst storage unit alongside Dillons. There was cross-contamination, moldy produce, foamy, rancid chicken, and dirty dishes stacked atop each other. The equipment held so much oil that Ramsay himself declared the Diner a “Death Trap”

The restaurant, like many others, had disgusting, prepackaged, rancid food. One of Ramsay’s main criticisms was how large the menu was, containing more than 270 items. Unfortunately, the new menu did not reflect Astoria, nor resembled that of a Greek diner, as it only contained twenty items, some not even being diner staples (ex. Shrimp and Grits)

Events Pre/Post Episode

Bel Aire violated and failed several health inspections in the past. Reasons include mice, improper storage of food, and poor condition of restrooms. Furthermore, their grade is listed as “pending”, which is considered failing

The diner was featured on CBS Sunday morning where Bobby Flay visited and commented on Greek Diners

Bel Aire reverted to their original menu, however, they removed several items

Final Score: 8.5/10

Sources include the Kitchen Nightmares and Astoria subreddits, Reality TV Updates, and the CBS Sunday Morning video entitled “Greek Diners”

#review #kitchen nightmares #gordon ramsay #bel aire diner #new episode #restaurant #diner

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xbadnews · 7 months

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[ wrist ] a tender kiss on the inside of the partner's wrist || @softersinned

he imagines what she will taste like. he's had plenty of humans, a handful of animals - whatever could spread the message he was trying to send. but this was not a message. it was an experiment, a question to be answered. could astoria's blood satisfy a vampire's spawn? just the thought of it… well, it was exhilarating.

he was only spawn, sired by sylas briarwood but she had become something beyond that. astoria had risen above. percy was sure she would never bleed again if she didn't want to & still, her skin was at his lips, his fangs set to her vein.

since meeting her, he's felt a gnawing need for her. it was something he would have liked to keep to himself if he thought it were feasible. this desperation threatened his reality, tearing him apart at the seams. it dared to be seen, it dared to be known.

( he wonders, briefly, if she likes this. a large part of him hopes she does. )

he's not sure when he sinks his fangs into her skin, but it is a moment that threatens to redefine him. her blood fills his mouth & he's sure he is someone new. where he had only ever known want, ( wanting freedom, wanting revenge, wanting astoria ) there is a brief, beautiful moment where he is free. he could swim in her forever.

he's only drawn from his daydreams of astoria by her hand. specifically, her fingers threading through his hair. the ever-present tension in the inventor's shoulders melts away, honestly. percy couldn't place what would possess her to be so gentle with him. ( it's hardly scientific. )

they were wretched creatures, defined by violence. yet, Percy is sure that astoria's touch is the closest thing to a peaceful death he will ever experience. it buries his anger, his terror, and his grief & puts it to rest. all that exists to him for a moment is honey-scented hair & sharp, metallic bliss that bleeds into his mouth, down his throat & into his core. he can barely force himself apart from her. he's sure he would be breathless if his lungs still worked. there is an intense haze that hangs over him, blood-drunk & unreal.

he doesn't think before he kisses her still-bleeding wrist. it's a lingering act of reverence, a silent thank you for the crimson that still dripped down his chin. he kisses her again & again, savoring the taste of her on his lips. ( the blood that stained the front of his shirt was a terrible waste. ) he's not sure when he sneaks his fingers in between hers, but it tethers him to his body & draws his gaze to meet hers.

" I'm sorry," this is a lie. he feels complete & it was an act of her curiosity. he wanted to keep her curious. he still holds onto her hand, otherwise limp against her touch. he turns his head against the palm of her unbloodied hand & presses a kiss on her palm, leaving a smear of red in its wake. it was lovely against her skin & so he does it twice. then a third time, for good measure.

" You must forgive me, " sarcasm mixes with the adrenaline in his veins & a wicked grin, dark with her gore splits his features, " I forget myself. "

#softersinned #v. briarwood #comment cards ( answered. )#shaking them around like the nemo girl #blood tw

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pitchshitterarchiver · 5 months

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Black velvet interview with J.S Clayden from Pitchshifter.

PITCHSHIFTER

(JS Clayden Questionnaire - Taken From Black Velvet 20 - May 99)

By Shari Black Velvet

When JS Clayden sang ‘I must be some kind of genius’, he was not too far wrong. www.pitchshifter.com is an immaculate piece of artwork in one of its noisiest forms. It rips, cuts, tears, bleeps, bops, blares and generally twirls you around in circles leaving you dizzy and decidedly off-balance afterwards. JS Clayden, his brother Mark, plus Johnny Carter, D Walters and Jim Davies are one of the most inventive quintets in rock today. Let’s find out more... courtesy of an email questionnaire which JSC was kind enough to fill in.

J = Js clayden

BV = black velvet interviewer

Black Velvet : What has been the highlight of your career so far?

JS Clayden: Meeting Jello Biafra, selling out the Astoria, playing with Black Sabbath, playing Reading Festival to a full crowd, going to Troma Films offices, not having to get a real job for the last five years.

BV: If you were a contestant on Mastermind, which subject (excluding The Life & Times Of Pitchshifter), would you most like to answer questions on?

J: Punk rock/jazz/art.

BV: How was your UK tour back in February? Do any gigs stick out? Which and why?

J: The UK tour was amazing. We sold out about five venues which was a nice surprise. Our fans in the UK have been very patient while we have been touring the world in '98. It was great to get back home and play to a very appreciative crowd. The London gig was obviously awesome, as there were 2250 nutters up for a mad night out.

BV: Which has been your favourite tour to date and why?

J: Personally I loved the American tour with Gravity Kills, Junkie XL and Cold. It was summer, we had a great tour bus, the tour was 3 months long and we all got along really well. I met a lot of really cool people that I still correspond with over the net and it was just one of those Summers, ya know? Japan was also amazing, but I think America had it.

BV: What would be your dream gig? Where? When? Supported by whom?

J: My dream gig? Dead Kennedys, Big Black, Plug, The Walking Seeds, DJ Shadow, Sex Pistols, Jeff Mills, The Specials, Everclear, The Ruts, Shellac and Girls Against Boys.

BV: Are you looking forward to the 'Big Day Out'? How do you think it will be?

J: We are all looking forward to it. The Ozzfest at the same place was amazing and the Big Day Out will be just as cool I'm sure. I like the fact that crowds get so see different facets of harder edged music rather than just a day of ‘heavy metal’. We'll have to wait and see, I guess. Hopefully I can get in the crowd again and meet the folks down front.

BV: What do you think of Earache's re-issue of 'Infotainment?'?

J: I think for someone who doesn't already own the release it is a great package. And for those who already do, well you get the 3 mixes and all the videos for free if you have a computer. Although the band had nothing to do with the re-release it is quite tastefully done and it looks pretty good. The CD-Rom portion is comprehensible and easy to use.

BV: Fanzines - your thoughts on them...

J: They get to review stuff commercial mags are too afraid to, or can't sell. I like fanzines. Pitchshifter have always featured well in zines. Good luck to them all!

BV: Is there such a thing as a typical Pitchshifter fan?

J: I don't think so. Our public is very cross-genre. I would hope that one thing all our fans have in common is their willingness to be open-minded. We try and give our fans every opportunity to experience new things when we can. We take new bands on tour with us, we talk about what affects us on our website, we get interesting remixes done etc.

BV: You're admired as a band by all sorts. Who would you say is your most famous fan? How do you feel knowing that you might have fans who are also into bands ranging from Bon Jovi to 3 Colours Red to Napalm Death?

J: I was out with 3CR last night! They played Rock City and we had a party afterwards (ouch!) (S: I know, I was there). I am always flattered that people have even heard of the band. We never get any radio play or major press. It's through the small indie stations and fanzines and mags like Metal Hammer and Kerrang! and Terrorizer and our website that people know what we are up to. Our most famous fan? The aliens that left the crop circle in the shape of our eye logo!

BV: Since the Seagram merger/Universal Group takeover, have you found any major changes occurring that involve Pitchshifter? How do you think, as a band, this change will affect you?

J: I can't discuss that element of our deal right now. I can assure you that the new LP is on its way however.

BV: The tour diary on your web site is very interesting and enjoyable to read. When is the release of the book and will it be available worldwide?

J: When I collate it and find a publisher! I am actually in the process of writing a novel based on the first tour diary I did in 1994. It won't be finished for some time though. I am actually far more comfortable writing prose instead of music.

BV: Why did you start writing a tour diary in the first place? Do you keep a regular diary? When did you first start keeping a diary?

J: I have the worst memory. I started writing a tour diary to try and remember what the hell I've been doing for the last 5 years. It was just for me. I think being able to see what you think on paper on the screen also acts as a cathartic catalyst for what you think. You should try it.

BV: You've been touring pretty much constantly for ages. How do you keep things fresh and fun on the road?

J: Satanism, child slavery, sex before marriage, crack cocaine, AC/DC records and Sony playstations. No, seriously - we are having so much fun playing music that we just enjoy it every night. We just literally goof around with each other on stage. Watch us and you'll see us laughing as we stage dive. It's a great life style and it's a shame it can't last for ever. The plethora of laptops, digital cameras and samplers that travel with us keep us on our toes too.

BV: How would you like to see Pitchshifter in the 21st century?

J: Madder, balder, fatter, richer, more irreverent, more cynical.

BV: You once said "The music that spoke to us unemployed kids on sh**ty estates in the North of England was punk music... It was angry and we were angry...". Are you still angry now? What makes you angry?

J: Take a look outside your door... GM foods, police brutality, racism, us f**king the 3rd world over, bulls**t politics, right wing lunatics, pro-life extremists, restrictive religions... Want me to go on?

BV: Is there any subject you'd really like to write a song about that you haven't so far?

J: I think we should write a love song. Now that would be funny.

BV: You come up with all sorts of samples. Where do you get your ideas from for them? Have you thought of anything you'd already like to sample for the next album? Anything really weird?

J: We just go to the studio and sample what we like. I think there will be some more back tracking on this LP. We tried dog whistles but they are outside the audio range of a CD. I have sampled my answer phone messages, my flatmate talking drunk, a woman sleep talking and the sampler feeding back through my computer - I'm sure other stuff will ensue.

BV: If you could introduce three new conditions/regulations into today's society, what would you like to introduce?

J: 1 - Radio stations would be forced at gun point to play wide variety of music and the DJ is only allowed to talk if she/he is telling you the name of the record. 2 - Politicians are not allowed to own ANY businesses and any that are caught lying have to parade naked with a dunce hat around Trafalgar Square for 30 minutes while the populous get to throw rotting vegetable matter at them. 3 - Big business is never allowed to regulate itself, no more BSE scenarios please.

BV: Similarly, you like to get people to question what's going on and you hope to open their eyes by writing and/or talking about your beliefs. What do you currently think the masses should open their eyes to?

J: The continual stream of bulls**t in the news and the government line. The classics from Tony Bore: 1 - "We will not support actions that will endanger the lives of people in minority communities abroad". So what does he do? Grants MORE weapons licences to countries like Indonesia who we know for a fact will use to kill people in East Timore. 2 - "GM foods are safe". Yeah, just like BSE baby. We have no idea what the repercussions of altering food might be until 10 years down the line when they say "Oops, actually they kill you". Just like the pill, just like BSE.

BV: When you originally set up the band, and when you bring new members in (i.e. when Jim began working with the band), do things such as whether the guy is a vegetarian, into Greenpeace and all the other same political and social beliefs as you take up as much a role as whether he's a good musician?

J: They are not mandates but they are important. Jim is a veggie and he believes in a lot of things that we think are important anyway and so all is well. We don't care if people eat meat. It's up to the individual. We don't do it and it works for us and we will be happy to explain why to you. But if you don't want to know then we aren't going to shove it down your throat. It's about education not indoctrination.

BV: Describe the other members of the band.

J: Drinky, mumbly, randy, and happy (does that make me snow white?).

BV: Sum up Pitchshifter in ten words or less.

J: Degenerate low life, mal-adjusted freaks.

BV: Anything else you'd like to add?

J: Go to http://www.pitchshifter.com now and see what's up!

Yep, do as the man says.

#alt #alt metal #alternative #alternative metal #metal #metalhead #nu metal #pitchshifter #idk #industrial #industrial metal #industrial nu metal #British #black velvet

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ofweave · 7 months

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There are times she remembers just how lucky she is, all things considered, for her to have found all of them. She could have been trapped on that nautiloid with any number of fools—probably was, truth be told, but they are the ones she found. She's been reading one of his books, loaned out to help her with a bit of theory she's struggled to understand, and his notes—scribbled on scraps of paper and tucked in the relevant pages—have, somehow, managed to answer every question she's had before she's been able to fully put it into words. She sets the book aside and stands, crosses the room to where he sits near the fire, absorbed in a book of his own; when she reaches him she gently taps the pages to get his attention before she takes his face in her hands to tip his head up so she can drop a kiss to his forehead.

"You're fucking brilliant," she informs him, and on a whim she kisses the top of his head, just to emphasize the point. "Fucking brilliant. Thank you for the loan. And for the notes. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

gale’s always been proud of his book collection: carefully curated selections ranging from magical theory to historical tomes to poetry, with some questionable picks in the mix to suit his whims. he’s been growing his library for years and made some truly impressive acquisitions with the funds and reach he’d attained during his time as mystra’s chosen. he’s equally proud of his annotations, which, in his admittedly not so humble opinion, do a marvellous job showcasing his expertise and brilliance across a wide variety of topics. he’s always been more succinct on paper, too.

still, there’d been a part of him that had been nervous to share his books and notes with astoria. more than almost anything else, they’re a reflection of who gale is — what he values, what he thinks, how he thinks. he’d almost hesitated to share something so personal with her, but she’d asked for his help, and — well. he’d soldiered through anxiety gnawing at his stomach, but eventually the feeling had settled as gale watched her become engrossed in her reading from the corner of his eye.

it's enough that sooner rather than later he’s become thoroughly distracted by a book of his own: an old favourite featuring firsthand accounts from mages throughout the era of upheaval that reads almost like a novel rather than a piece of nonfiction.

he almost startles when astoria appears before him — is taken by surprise by the appreciation and affection she bestows upon him, perhaps more than by the kisses that carry said feelings. it makes gale tremble with feeling, and he takes a gentle hold of astoria’s wrists to keep her touch on him a moment longer. he’s washed up and hollowed out, but somehow, he’s still allowed this.

❝ you’re most welcome, astoria. stori. i’m glad i — they can be of use to you. anything you need of me, you only have to ask. ❞

#softersinned #let me work my magic / in character.#excuse him hes a bit overcome by emotion because Friendship.

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musicarenagh · 8 months

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Dive into Marr Not Meeger's World: The Story of 'Yellow Car Meet Marr Not Meeger, the wonderful songwriter and singer who made her refreshing debut single “Yellow Car” available on all streaming platforms. Marr Not Meeger, whose name is Rowan Meagher and an Irishman but who spent his childhood in Geneva Switzerland presently lives Paris France. In her latest song ‘Yellow Car’ she addresses the challenges within relationships with brilliant lyrics among catchy tunes. This track was recorded at Studio Montmartre in Paris, where Marr Not Meeger thanks Andreas Lecter for this marvelous job of recording and mastering the song. “The Boy in The Tree”, a seven-song EP which is scheduled for release midway through 2024, ‘Yellow Car’ serves as its lead single. With a mishmash of influences from Nina Simone to Phoebe Bridgers in tow, Marr Not Meeger has wound her way through the music scene. At the end of her musician journey, Marr Not Meeger shares with us some words about how she finds inspiration to write. More than his music, Marr Not Meeger has a passion for swimming; likes to learn other languages apart from English and keep digging in with sports especially soccer. In case she does not choose music, Astoria would like to become a professional in some intellectually stimulating branches of astrophysics or economics. In an industry filled with challenges, Marr Not Meeger gives profile to the issue of gender equality and aims at redefining traditional views. Having the intention of releasing her second single ‘Pizza For Breakfast’ in April, and a debut EP in September this year, Marr Not Meeger can wait for establishing contact with her audience through emotional performances alongside other joint projects. Marr Not Meeger to her fans expresses deep gratitude with a heart-warming hug as she welcomes them on an inspiring adventure full of hit songs and life meaning. Follow Marr Not Meeger on Soundcloud Instagram Spotify Listen to Yellowcar below https://open.spotify.com/album/6vFZ1K4EO7RQ8UeDVjZaab What is your stage name Marr Not Meeger Is there a story behind your stage name? It comes from having to explain the pronunciation of my Irish surname, Meagher, to non-irish people, who always pronounce it wrong. Where do you find inspiration? most things, however most often it's other works of art. Be it music, painting, or literature. I find a lot of inspiration in tv and film, as the combination of text or dialogue and visuals is a large pool to draw from. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? The earliest memories i have that tie to music are, like most little girls and boys, disney songs. My parents also had a huge cd collection, that I would regularly reorganize for fun. When I was seven, my father made me a mixtape that hugely influenced me. It opened with Sheryl Crow singing ‘sweet child o mine’ and also featured some great covers, like Eva Cassidy singing ‘Time after Time’, and the Dubliners singing ‘black velvet band’. It also featured Joan Armatrading, Kíla, Crowded House, Sony Condell, and many others that I can't remember. The best day of my life was when my parents bought me an ipod. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Not at all. My parents were both highly academic, and my father used to tell me that he got kicked out of music class in school for being so untalented. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? Two people. The first is Lorraine Dinkel, who was my first ever singing teacher. She taught me to conquer my stage fright and learn musical improvisation. She convinced me to start writing songs. The second is Ralph Kerr, who was the director of the choir I was in in highschool. Being in that choir was really the only time I enjoyed highschool, and it's where I started gaining confidence and where I realized I could pursue this as a career. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? I started taking singing lessons, and writing in my bedroom with my grandmothers old guitar that she left me when she died.

What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? In 2018 I saw Rex Orange County play in Paris at Le Trabendo. That concert was incredible. I think subconsciously it made me want to move to Paris, and now that concert hall is one of my dream venues. How could you describe your music? I would describe it as Dad Rock for the new generation. Describe your creative process. I find that my best work comes out of improvisation, where i go into some sort of songwriting trance and start blurting out my feelings over some random chords until something cool happens. [caption id="attachment_53905" align="alignnone" width="720"] I find that my best work comes out of improvisation, where i go into some sort of songwriting trance[/caption] What is your main inspiration? life experiences, and works of fiction. What musician do you admire most and why? I love Hozier, for our shared nationality and for his incredible songwriting and guitar playing. Nina Simone’s voice. Phil Lynnot’s bass playing. Finneas’s production skills. Ella Fitzgerald’s vocal presicion. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? I'm just starting out, so ask me again in five years. Though one of my goals in music is to try a bit of everything. Who do you see as your main competitor? I think that the music industry is already way more competitive than it should be, so I try not to think of other musicians as my competitors. I would probably therefore have to say myself. I get in my own way a lot. What are your interests outside of music? I love to swim, dance, learn new languages, and watch football. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? When I was younger I wanted to be a spy for interpol, but then I quickly realized that if I was a badass international super spy, I wouldn't be able to keep it to myself. As I was a competitive swimmer for 11 years, i thought about going pro for a while, but it was just too hard on my body. I would probably be doing something intellectually challenging, like astrophysics or economics. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? So far, finding time to rehearse with the band, as we all work different jobs and are all quite busy. Also finding an audience. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? probably the double standard when it comes to gender, and misogyny. However, I think that I would change that about every industry. https://open.spotify.com/artist/2iRebx6MaKhPA3LWqBwsVq Why did you choose this as the title of this project? The title of Yellowcar was the first thing I came up with in the song. I thought it was a cool image. The title of my upcoming EP ‘The Boy In The Tree’ was inspired by a photo of my friend Elliott climbing a tree, which will be the cover art. What are your plans for the coming months? In April I plan to release my second single ‘Pizza For Breakfast’, and my debut EP The Boy In The Tree in September. In the meantime I plan to keep building up my experience performing live. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans I’ve started playing in a band, but for the moment i’m just looking to collaborate with musicians who can play on my records. I would love to do some collabs though! What message would you like to give to your fans? Whoever you are, thank you for listening, and I want to give you a big ol hug.

#Interviews #MarrNotMeeger #MarrNotMeegerdropsYellowcar #MarrNotMeegeroutwithYellowcar #MarrNotMeegerreleasesYellowcar #MarrNotMeegerwithYellowcar #MarrNotMeegerYellowcar #Yellowcar #YellowcarbyMarrNotMeeger #YellowcarfromMarrNotMeeger #YellowcarMarrNotMeeger

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papillon-mechant · 3 years

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my little love|d.m. x reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: draco and y/n haven't seen each other in years, and there's a lot he doesn't know

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, mentions/innuendos of sex but no actual smut. (there's a part that implies reader has curly brown hair but you can imagine it however you want it was just a way of giving the child a trait that wasn't draco's)

a/n: i'm finally FINALLY writing this fic from this old blurb and i'm so excited. i did change a few things around but still, i hope you guys like it. it's super long i kinda got carried away lol. this is also my fic for @draconisxcaput ‘s harry potter writing contest (i'm sorry it's late lol)

special tag: @ameliora-j

This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t going to go well. Just go home, no one’s seen you, they won’t notice. These were just a few of the things running through your head as you sat in your car in front of the huge mansion. The mansion you hadn’t stepped foot in in almost a whole year. Images of that day run through your mind, making your stomach twist with nausea. You watch as more and more groups of people continue to pour into the house, hearing the bustle of partygoers for a few seconds every time the door opens. Taking a deep breath, you shake off your nerves and finally work up the courage to leave your vehicle and make your way to the front doors of the manor.

Another group of people walks in ahead of you, giving you the opportunity to sneak in with them, not wanting to be seen entering on your own. When you get inside, you take a moment to let your eyes rake over the crowded mansion, taking in the hundreds of people surrounding you. It made you feel small, closed in. In a desperate attempt to calm your nerves, you make your way to the kitchen, not needing any direction as your mind already knows every inch of the home.

You’re almost to the kitchen when a flash of white makes you stop in your tracks. You stand frozen in your place, eyes locked on the head of platinum blond hair across the room. It’s been years and he still takes your breath away. You watch as he talks to the man next to him, moving his hands enthusiastically as he speaks. He always spoke with his hands. Suddenly, your body begins to move before your mind can register where it’s taking you, bringing you closer and closer to the man. Before you know it, you’re standing behind him, close enough to be engulfed by his signature scent of mint and hair gel.

“Papa!” You hear a child scream. Another flash of white speeds past your body, stopping in front of the man. Draco chuckles, bending down to pick the child up. That must be Scorpius, you think to yourself. He’s a spitting image of his father. Draco kisses around the boy’s face, eliciting small giggles from the young child. Suddenly the boy pauses, looking over his father’s shoulder, directly at you.

“Papa, her pwetty.” The boy giggles, pointing in your direction. Draco turns to see who his son was speaking of, eyes widening in shock when he notices it’s you. The boy squirms in his grip, signaling for his father to put him down. He runs over to you, stopping in front of you and extending his hand.

“Hi, I'm Scowpius but you pwetty so you can call me bubby.” The child says. You smile, reaching down to shake his hand.

“Hi bubby, i’m y/n.” You reply. The boy giggles, hugging your leg before running off to play with the other kids. The scent of mint and hair gel fills your nose once again, causing you to lift your head, coming face to face with the one who got away.

“Y/n,” Draco breathes, a shocked expression still painting his features, “merlin it’s been years.” You nod, afraid your voice will betray you if you speak.

“Draco dear, it’s time for the toast.” A woman behind you shouts. Astoria, you assume. Draco nods his head, eyes never leaving yours.

“I think you’d better get over there.” You laugh, moving for him to walk past you.

“Oh, yes you’re right. Well it was good to see you.” He says, walking over to his family. You watch him walk away, your mind only thinking one thing. You were definitely still in love with Draco Malfoy.

You spent the next few hours huddled by yourself in a small corner, observing the party from afar. Every now and again, an old classmate would recognize you, sparking up a conversation about stuff you didn’t care enough to pay full attention to, just nodding and smiling most of the time. Because your mind was completely somewhere else. It was on that neat head of platinum blond hair you’d seen hours earlier. You hadn’t really seen him much since then, only catching a small glimpse of him here and there. Being in that house and seeing him again brought back memories of that night, ones you’d suppressed for very long.

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up here. One moment, you’re catching up with an old friend at the bar, and the next you’re tangled in his sheets, bodies pressed together, moving together as one. It was so wrong, he was married. But as you felt the way his lips ghosted over your throat, in the exact spot he used to when you were younger, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. After all, you weren’t the married one. And what’s the worst that could happen, right?

When You finally arrive home, you slowly trudge your way up the stairs, exhaustion taking over your whole body. You make your way to your bedroom, instantly stripping from the uncomfortable dress you wore to the party. You go about your night routine as usual, getting in the shower, brushing your teeth and slipping into a comfortable nightgown. Leaving the bathroom, you stop in front of the room adjacent to yours, slowly opening the door, trying not to make too much noise. You walk over to the crib, glancing down at the sleeping child with a small smile. When you pick her up, she stirs awake, small cries leaving her tiny lips, but she stops when she realizes it’s you who’s holding her.

“Hello beautiful.” You coo, rubbing a finger up and down her cheek. She was so tiny, so precious. And a spitting image of her father. Grey eyes, pale skin and platinum blonde hair, the only indication that she came from you being the identical birthmarks the two of you shared, a small patch of blue in the whites of her eyes.

Other than that, there was no doubt. She was definitely Draco Malfoy’s child. “I saw your papa today,” you whisper to your daughter, rocking her back and forth in your arms, “and your big brother. You look so much like both of them. I wish they could see you.” Your eyes well with tears, heart wrenching at the thought of your daughter never meeting her father.

You sit on the edge of your tub, your leg anxiously bouncing uncontrollably.

“God this is the longest five minutes of my life.” You groan, head falling into your shaking hands.

“I’m sure you’re fine, you’re probably just overreacting.” Hermione assures you, rubbing her hand over your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves. You shake your head, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

“But what if I’m not fine ‘Mione?” You cry, letting your head fall into her shoulder, “What if it’s positive? I can’t tell him, it would ruin both of us. But I can’t do this alone, what am I gonna do?” Your voice breaks as you speak, a waterfall of tears leaving your eyes. The sight shatters Hermione’s heart. She wraps her arms around you and holds tightly to your crying figure.

“It’s okay y/n, you won’t be alone. You know me and the boys will always be here to help you.”

The test came back positive. And 8 and a half months later, Rosaline Willow Malfoy was born. Her birth certificate was the only thing that made it clear who her father was, everywhere else, her last name was the same as yours. You never did tell Draco about her, you were afraid to. After all, What was he to do? Leave his wife and son for an old high school lover? The woman he cheated on her with, the woman with whom he’d had a child out of wedlock. You didn’t want to put him in that position. So instead you hid her from him, hoping that one day she wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore.

Three years later, Rosaline had grown to be a beautiful little girl. Her curly hair, now shoulder length, had gotten lighter over time, giving her the true platinum blonde color that most Malfoy’s had inherited. About two years ago, you bumped into an old classmate, Theodore Nott, at a coffee shop. After a few small dates, you two became official. He was amazing, always bringing you flowers and small gifts, helping out around the house. You especially loved how good he was with Rosaline. He loved her like she was his own, treated her like she deserved the whole world, and he gave it to her too. Buying her small toys and gifts, taking her to the park or the zoo. He knew who Rosaline’s father was, but it didn’t matter to him. He truly loved the two of you with all his heart.

It was a beautiful spring day, so naturally Theo pitched the idea of going to the park, and of course Rosaline was more than excited to go, and so were you. When you arrived at the park, you took your usual seat on the bench across from the playground, watching with a wide smile as Theo attempted to encourage your timid daughter to go down the biggest slide. Your serenity is quickly broken when you hear someone behind you clear their throat.

“Y/n.” Shit. You know that voice, it’s a voice you’d never been able to forget, even after all these years. You sigh deeply, tearing your sight away from your family to turn and face the man behind you. There he stood, the infamous Draco Malfoy. Clad in his signature black suit, fingers covered in the Malfoy family heirlooms. He still smelled the same, he always smelled the same.

“Mr.Malfoy.” You reply, nodding your head as a greeting. His hard expression changes to one of confusion, probably at the way you addressed him. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the sound of a child shouting “Mommy look, daddy howsey.” He watches as you turn in the direction of the disturbance, eyes snapping between you and the man and child on the playground. Theo was on his hands and knees, making noises like a horse with a giggling Rosaline seated on his back. You smile at the sight, almost forgetting about the blond man behind you. But you are quickly reminded of his presence as he clears his throat once again. You turn to face him, trying to ignore the obvious calculating look on his face.

“So…mommy huh?” He questions, nodding his head towards your child. Your body tenses for a moment, but you quickly relax yourself, not wanting to give anything away. You instead put on a smile, nodding your head at the male. “And he’s…daddy?” Draco asks, his jaw clenched tight. You nod your head again,

“Yes, that’s Rosaline, our daughter.” Draco nods, jaw clenching and unclenching in an attempt to hide any emotions that try to break through his tough exterior. “So, she’s his?” He asks, glancing over at Theo as he plays with Rosaline. “He’s the only father she’s ever known.” You reply. Draco’s jaw tightens again as he takes in the looks of the child. She was so small. Her skin is pale and littered with birthmarks and freckles, she gets that from you he thinks. Her hair is to her shoulders, thick and curly, also from you. But it wasn’t brown like yours or Theo’s. It was blonde. Platinum blonde.

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He speaks through clenched teeth. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in the back of your throat. You think for a moment, about whether you can lie your way out of this or not. But you knew you couldn’t. There was no denying that she was his child, especially when you see them so close together. “She’s yours.” You say. His face stays calm, the only confirmation that he heard what you’d said being a small nod. He opens his mouth to speak but us again interrupted when Theo runs over to the bench, Rosaline in his arms.

“Y/n love Rosie wants-Malfoy, is that you?” Theo says, shock evident in his voice, “It’s been ages mate, good to see you.” He hands Rosaline over to you, moving in to wrap Draco in an awkward embrace. Draco grunts, mumbling a curt, “You too.” before distancing himself from the brunet again. Draco’s eyes never leave Rosa. He studies her tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure if she was real or not. Theo notices this, a look of understanding washing over his features.

“Rosa honey, how about we go get some ice cream?” He asks, opening his arms to the girl. She squeals excitedly, instantly lunging from your arms into his. “I’ll be right over there, okay?” He whispers to you, giving you a look that says, “just say the word and i’ll get us out of here” you shake your head, letting him know you were okay. He nods, turning to Draco one last time and this time extending his hand to the blond, “It really was good to see you mate.” Draco merely stares at Theo’s hand, not moving to return the gesture. Theo finally takes the hint and takes your daughter to get the ice cream he promised.

After he leaves, you’re left alone in an awkward silence with Draco, both of you saying nothing as you stare each other down. Finally, you decide to break the silence, “Well I should probably get going, if I don’t he’ll end up getting her the biggest size because he can’t say no to her.” You say, moving to pack your things. But you are stopped with a cold hand around your wrist.

“Draco-”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” he says, voice tinted with hurt and anger, “you don’t get to just drop a bomb like that and leave. I deserve an explanation.” You scoff at his words, yanking your hand away from his grip.

“Like hell you do, if you hadn’t run into us today you wouldn’t even know she existed. Don’t try to act like a father now.” You spit, anger evident in your words.

“How was I supposed to be a father before, if you hid my child from me? And what gave you the goddamn right to do that in the first place?” He snaps back.

“What gave me the right? I’ll tell you what gave me the right. I carried her for nine months. I gave birth to her after 47 hours of labor. I changed her dirty diapers. I took care of her when she was sick. I did all of that, because she is my daughter. The only thing that makes her yours is DNA. You’re married, Draco, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Knock on your door and when your wife answers tell her “Hi my name is y/n, I’m the one your husband cheated on you with. Also, I’m pregnant with his fucking bastard child” Is that what I should have done? Humiliate myself like that. And for what? So we could raise her together?”

“Why didn’t you just tell m-”

“Would you have left Astoria for me?” You cut him off. Tears well in the corners of your eyes, your heart slowly breaking due to his silence. “Would you?” You ask again. He doesn't speak, he just stands there with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing as if he wants to speak. But he doesn’t. You slowly nod your head, heart shattered in a million pieces. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you silently gather your things. Draco watches you the whole time, glued to his spot in front of you.

When you're done, you turn look at him once more, “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #theo nott angst #harry potter writing event #draco malfoy fic

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