hjpsdiary

[hjpsdiary]

MID SUMMERS with rafe cameron x fanta!reader

she sees him before he sees her. or maybe he’s already looking and pretending not to. it’s mid-summers, after all. everything feels dipped in honey and champagne, like nothing bad can happen under a sky full of fairy lights.

he’s standing near the terrace with a drink in hand, pale blue suit pressed within an inch of its life, hair slicked back like someone told him to behave. but that’s never worked on him before. not with the way he’s watching her now—like her bare shoulders are an insult, like the gold lace dripping off her hips is a dare.

fanta lifts her chin, squares her shoulders, and lets some guy with perfect teeth pour her another drink. she doesn’t look at rafe again until the guy leans in too close, laughs too loud at something she barely said.

and when she does look back?

rafe’s already halfway to her.

“you got bored quick,” she says before he even opens his mouth, her voice airy like a joke, but her eyes don’t meet his for long.

“you always make me wanna drink faster,” he mutters, setting his glass down without looking. “figured if i didn’t come over now, you were gonna start giving out your number like it’s a damn raffle ticket.”

she rolls her eyes, lips sticky with strawberry gloss. “i didn’t know we were playing the possession game again.”

he huffs. “didn’t know we ever stopped.”

her jaw tightens at that, just for a second. “you didn’t say hi.”

“you didn’t wait.”

“you didn’t want me to.”

he steps in closer, eyes dragging down her dress. “you wore that knowing i was gonna be here?”

her smile tilts. “you think this is about you?”

“it’s always about me when you’re dressed like a fucking dream and letting bradley-whatever run his mouth at you.”

she leans in, the gold of her dress catching against his knuckles. “you jealous?”

“i should be,” he says. “but mostly i’m just tired of pretending you don’t do this on purpose.”

“you looked real cozy with miss blue dress and platform heels earlier,” she fires back, brows raised.

rafe smirks, slow and sharp. “that bother you, baby?”

she doesn’t answer. just sips her drink and says, too soft, “you didn’t even look at me when i walked in.”

he exhales through his nose, eyes still on hers. “i couldn’t,” he admits. “you looked like trouble i was gonna say yes to.”

and maybe that’s the thing with them—always pretending they’re not looking, not wanting, not waiting for the other one to crack first.

she hands him her glass. “if you’re done being an asshole, walk me back inside.”

he doesn’t ask questions. just takes it, slides his hand into hers like he never let it go in the first place.

[hjpsdiary]

NOT MEANT TO SEE - rafe cameron x bunny!reader

you step out just a second too late.

the shot’s already gone off. there’s someone on the ground. rafe’s standing there like he doesn’t even notice the way blood’s blooming into the dirt. like his finger didn’t just pull the trigger.

you stop short, your whole body going still. hands shaking just a little. you’re not sure what you’re looking at. not sure what’s supposed to come next.

rafe turns. sees you. jaw clenched. voice low.

“you should’ve stayed in the car.”

“i heard yelling,” you say, barely louder than a whisper. “i just wanted to—”

“yeah?” he cuts in, walking toward you. “you wanted to what, bunny? see that?” he gestures behind him without looking. “that what you came out here for?”

you flinch. hug your arms tight around yourself. “i didn’t know you were gonna—”

“that’s the fuckin’ point,” he snaps, and then he sighs, running a hand down his face. “you weren’t supposed to see that. you weren’t supposed to be out here.”

your voice wobbles. “is he—did you—rafe, there’s blood.”

“he was talkin’ about you.” rafe’s voice is flatter now. cold. like the softness drained out the second he saw your face go pale. “askin’ who you were. sayin’ shit.”

you blink at him. your lip trembles. “but… you didn’t have to—”

“yes, i did.”

he’s in front of you now. closer than you realized. his hands come up and frame your face, tilting it toward his.

“you think he was gonna just walk away?” his voice drops lower. “you think he was gonna let me walk back to the car and leave with you like nothin’ happened?”

you try to say something, but he shakes his head.

“you don’t get it. you don’t see people like i do. you see the good shit. the soft shit. i see what they’re gonna do before they even get close.”

you swallow hard. “i just got scared…”

his tone softens, just a bit. not all the way. but enough.

“i know, baby. i know.” he leans in, presses his forehead to yours. “but next time you hear somethin’? you stay in the damn car. understand me?”

you nod. slow. shaky.

he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, one hand still holding the back of your head.

“i got you,” he mutters, voice in your hair. “always.”

[hjpsdiary]

Happily Ever After

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you

warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you

The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you

Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option

Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him

After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral

Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational

Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?

He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you

Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else

You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no

He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge

“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”

That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated

As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door

No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible

You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that

It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him

Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option

If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane

You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else

The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen

There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think

Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes

When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his

He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony

Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes

Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care

Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works

A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works

You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true

A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning

You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms

When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father

When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood

Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision

After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation

As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course

But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is angry when your father tells him no

And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you

In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond

Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen

You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily

He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed

Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse

You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan

He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that

Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt

It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you

You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded

All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation

You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach

Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below

Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father

He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing

Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused upon being told no

He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself

After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary

In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says

Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife

And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold

He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment

He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again

He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you

Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you

He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen

If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you

He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme

He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for

With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives

In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies

He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself

And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years

Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that

And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you

He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon

Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you

The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing

He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back

It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars

There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount

As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face

Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word

“Dracarys.”

Lucerys Velaryon

Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal

It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life

Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what

Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan

He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again

And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night

With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring

You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married

Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child

Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow

And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your

concerned father

They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?

And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress

Almost

You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes

“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly

You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins

“Y/N is with child.”

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge

Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really

For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead

He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you

The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to

The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker

He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss

They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man

You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles

You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree

After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat

He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision

[hjpsdiary]

SWEET P'S MASSIVE SUMMER REQS

throughout having this account and showcasing my stories on the different charecters we all love; this has brought me closure from so many kinds of pain in my own life & now i want to gift something to my followers/ veiwers in this page too 🎀

to thank you back for the support i have been provided as a luxury with i would like to announce my "SWEET P'S MASSIVE SUMMER REQS ". me and @rafecswhore will both be doing this tgt to honor our long hiatus from tumblr !! WHAT IS "SWEET P'S MASSIVE SUMMER REQS " this allows you to request anything from th@rafecswhore and my published works !!. this can include smut, nsfw, something truamatic, fluff legit anything. you can even request series from both of us and can ask for anything no limits what so ever. however with this being said, please keep in mind the following fandomsme and @rafecswhore do !!

@rafecswhore - anyone from obx au and i do hotd & hjp !!

CHARECTERS I DO HOUSE OF DRAGONS rhaeneyra x daemon targaryen fanfics daemon targaryen aemond targaryen & jacaerys targaryen

HARRY POTTER

all the slytherin boys and harry potter himself !! happy requesting - from the sweet p's

[hjpsdiary]

IM BEGGING IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE GIVE HARRY AND YN A HAPPY ENDING PLEASE (i loved the last two sm my heart hurts the angst is CRAZY rn 😭😭 i can’t help but think of Laufey’s Promise while reading it too! Loved the latest update!!)

LOL HELP okay i gotchu however u guys arent gonna see harry happy for too long gang (jk) ALSO ADDING TO THIS NOTE FOR EVERYONE PLEASEEEE TILL AUGUST 1ST i will be doing any req given to me abt the house of dragons or harry potter so dont be shy to leave me smth babes !!

“after all that, we’re still here.” - hjp x f!reader

hogwarts was quiet now. quieter than it had ever been in harry’s memory.

the rubble had been cleared. portraits rehung. there was still magic in the walls, but it buzzed differently—less bright, more cautious. like even the castle was grieving.

you were in the astronomy tower when he found you. you’d been spending more time alone since the war ended. not in the way of sulking, but in that odd, unreachable way, like your mind was always half elsewhere. people mistook it for fragility.

harry knew better.

you had survived the manor. you had survived the war. you weren’t fragile—you were burnt. and no one had shown you how to soften again.

he hesitated at the door, then stepped in quietly.

“don’t jump,” he said, soft.

you didn’t turn. “didn’t hear you coming.”

“you never do,” he said. “except that one time in fifth year when i tried to sneak a biscuit from your bag and you hexed my shoelaces together.”

your lips tugged slightly. not a smile, but close.

“thought i heard you needed food more than detention,” you said.

he walked up beside you, glancing at your profile. wind brushed your hair across your cheek. the moonlight made everything silver.

“mcgonagall asked me to help with defensive spells for the younger years,” he said. “said you were top of the list to co-lead.”

you blinked. “me?”

“you’re brilliant. you always were,” he said, nudging you gently. “i mean, you accidentally stunned both crabbe and goyle in the same corridor and you weren’t even looking at them.”

you looked away, embarrassed. “i was trying to hit a suit of armor.”

“exactly. instinct.”

harry waited a moment, then lowered his voice.

“i know you don’t feel like yourself. i don’t either. but i think maybe we’re supposed to become new versions. versions who survived.”

you were quiet.

then—“i keep feeling like if i speak too loud, it’ll all break again.”

he nodded. “i get that.”

he leaned forward on the railing, elbows bent.

“but i think you’re allowed to laugh again. to live again. i mean, we lived through voldemort—don’t we deserve to do more than survive?”

you studied him. “you’re still you. even after everything.”

he gave a lopsided smile. “i’m trying to be.”

“i feel like i’m only halfway here.”

“then let me meet you halfway,” he said.

he held out his hand.

not with expectation. not with a promise of forever. just—i’m here. i want to be here, with you.

you looked at it.

then took it.

his fingers closed around yours, warm and real. tethering.

you weren’t who you used to be. neither was he. but for the first time since the battle… you let yourself hope.

[hjpsdiary]

stubborn girl pairing: daemon targaryen x young!reader warnings: age gap, tension, possessive!daemon, protective!daemon, canon divergence, fire & blood themes, mdni wc: ~2.5k

driftmark, the funeral of laena velaryon

the air was thick with grief, the sky painted in muted grays, the salty breeze from the sea carrying whispers of mourning through the gathered crowd.

you stood at the edge of it all, half-hidden in the shadows of the towering stone pillars, watching as the family grieved.

laena’s children clutched onto their grandmother, rhaenyra kept a wary eye on alicent and her father, and daemon—daemon stood apart from them all, silent, unreadable, his violet gaze fixed on the waves crashing below.

you shouldn’t have been here.

you weren’t velaryon, weren’t one of the many lords and ladies with a claim to the deceased, yet you had followed, drawn to driftmark as if something tethered you to this place, to him.

daemon hadn’t sent for you. hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since king’s landing, not since the tension that crackled between you had reached a fever pitch, and yet—

you came anyway.

you always did.

"you should not be skulking in the shadows like a thief," came a voice beside you.

you turned your head, only to meet daemon’s gaze, sharp and knowing, his presence now towering over you.

"and you should not be drinking at your wife’s funeral," you countered, eyeing the cup in his hand.

daemon smirked, taking a slow sip, watching you from over the rim. "ah, but grief takes many forms, does it not?"

you scoffed, shifting under his gaze, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

"why are you here, little one?" he murmured, stepping closer, voice dropping to something just above a whisper. "this is not your place."

the words stung more than they should have.

"and yet, you do not send me away," you replied, chin tilting up in defiance.

daemon’s lips curled, a glint of something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"stubborn girl," he muttered, shaking his head, but there was no real bite to the words.

you exhaled, your hands gripping the edges of your cloak. "do you mourn her?"

a beat of silence.

then—

"does it matter?"

you frowned, brows furrowing. "she was your wife, daemon."

his gaze flickered, jaw tightening for the briefest of moments before he exhaled, stepping even closer.

"she was," he conceded, voice quieter now. "but she was not…"

he trailed off, eyes dragging over your face, like he was searching for something, like he was debating whether or not to say what lingered on his tongue.

you swallowed hard, your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

"not what?" you pressed.

daemon hummed, a slow smirk forming, but his eyes—his eyes told another story.

"not you."

your breath caught.

a shiver ran down your spine, and daemon caught it, caught the way your fingers curled against your sides, the way your lips parted ever so slightly, caught everything, because daemon targaryen saw you too well, knew you too well, and he always used it to his advantage.

"do not say things you do not mean," you whispered, more for yourself than for him.

daemon tilted his head, his fingers brushing against your wrist—just barely, just enough to make your skin burn.

"and if i do?" he murmured.

your stomach twisted, a battle warring within you.

"then it would be cruel," you said, voice steadier than you felt.

daemon smirked, though there was something softer underneath, something fleeting.

"i have never claimed to be kind," he murmured.

you let out a shaky breath, stepping back, forcing space between you before you did something reckless.

before he did.

"grief makes men act foolishly," you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.

daemon just watched you, watched the way you refused to meet his gaze now, watched the way your hands trembled despite how tightly you clenched them.

"perhaps," he mused. "or perhaps, it makes men act honestly."

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest.

a call from the crowd caught daemon’s attention, but he didn’t move, didn’t look away from you.

"do not disappear again," he said, quieter now, almost like a request.

your heart pounded, and though you should have walked away, should have left him to his mourning, you found yourself nodding.

"as long as you do not either," you murmured.

daemon’s lips twitched.

"stubborn girl," he muttered again, shaking his head before finally turning away, disappearing back into the crowd.

and though the night was cold, though the sea wind bit at your skin, you felt warm.

too warm.

because daemon targaryen was playing with fire.

and you were no fool—you were playing right along with him.

[hjpsdiary]

hiii!! i tried to find where it says if requests are open or not but i couldn’t do if they are closed en i’m so sorry please ignore this!

i just read you fic about harry long for reader during his time in the wilderness during deathly hallows and i found it so heart wrenching and beautiful i was wondering if you could write a sequel about them reuniting. maybe he finds her in the dungeons of malfoy manor with luna and is overwhelmed with relief but also horrified to think about what she went through there. or maybe they reunite when he goes back to hogwartz and he pulls her a side for a moment and they realize that they’re both not the same people as they were the last they saw each other. (also feel free to make this gender neutral if you’d like) i love your writing sm!!!!

YESSSS THIS IS SO GOOD !! hopefully this did you justice babes anddd this is my first time writting gender neutral reader so plz bare im really sorry if it offends you. also this is just like a blurb of like the 1000 ideas i have so like bare w me 🙉🙉

I WANT YOU TO KNOW ME - HJP X GN! READER

SUMMARY - harry finding you in the dungeons of malfoy manor, the shock and desperation, his relief at finding you alive, his horror at realizing what you’ve been through, his quiet processing with ron and hermione in that golden trio way, and then the long, emotional scene where he pulls you aside at shell cottage and both of you face how much you’ve changed.

the dungeons stank of damp rot and iron. luna was humming something soft in the corner when the door flew open. it wasn’t a sound that meant hope—usually it meant pain—but this time, something was different. luna’s head lifted. your own breath caught in your throat before you even registered the footsteps.

then you heard it. his voice.

“luna?”

you froze. you didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t let yourself believe. not yet. your vision blurred and your wrists stung but none of it mattered—not when he was standing there, silhouetted by torchlight, voice rough and panicked and real.

“(y/n)?”

you flinched. your name in his mouth again after so long. you didn’t even know if you could stand but somehow you shifted, hands trembling as you pushed off the wall, your knees nearly giving out. luna gripped your elbow. your eyes locked onto his.

he looked wrecked. clothes torn, face drawn, wand in a white-knuckled grip.

“harry?” your voice cracked on it. barely a whisper.

he was already across the room in a heartbeat. he didn’t even care that the others were still figuring things out, didn’t care what came next. he just fell to his knees in front of you and stared. like you were a ghost he wasn’t sure would speak back.

“you’re here,” he breathed. “you’re—god, i thought—i thought you were gone.”

you didn’t know what to say. you were shaking and tired and hollow. but he was warm and there and real, and your body folded toward him like instinct. his arms wrapped around you and he held on like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

you buried your face into the side of his neck and let the heat of him melt through you. for the first time in weeks, you felt something other than fear.

when he helped you out of the manor, his hand never left yours. even as the world spun and spells lit up the beach, even when dobby collapsed, even through the sobs that tore through him—he never let go.

later, at shell cottage, harry stood in the corner of the living room while fleur and bill rushed around the kitchen. he barely noticed the tea in his hands. he was staring at the wall. not really seeing it.

ron sat beside him, his knee bouncing. “you alright, mate?”

harry didn’t answer immediately. then— “they were in the dungeon.”

ron looked up. “(y/n)?”

“yeah.” harry rubbed a hand over his face. “with luna. they were—merlin, they looked so…”

hermione came over and sat on the arm of the chair beside him. “what did they do to them?”

he shook his head, jaw clenched. “i don’t know. i didn’t ask. i just… i couldn’t look at them without—”

ron didn’t press him. he just nodded slowly and muttered something about how strong you’d always been. hermione bit her lip and glanced toward the hallway, toward the room you were resting in. they all felt it—that ache, that crack that was still fresh. but only harry had felt it like lightning, like something ripping straight through him.

because it wasn’t just that you were hurt. it was that you were different.

and so was he.

the first few hours after the manor were a blur. escape, the cold sand, dobby’s body, blood on his hands. your own legs barely worked. your body wasn’t used to safety. every soft voice felt like a trick. every hand that reached toward you made you flinch before you could help it.

you slept, but not deeply. not fully. you weren’t sure how.

and harry—harry lingered near the doorway of the room you’d been given, pacing sometimes, sitting on the floor outside like he didn’t know what to say. like he didn’t know if he was allowed to see you. like maybe you weren’t you anymore.

by the time you made it outside that evening, wrapped in a blanket that didn’t smell like blood or stone, the wind was cold enough to sting your cheeks. you found a quiet corner of the porch and let yourself stare at the stars, wondering if they remembered who you were.

you didn’t hear him until he was close.

“come with me,” he said. not pleading. just soft. just harry.

you looked at him. his eyes were unreadable. but something inside you said follow.

so you did.

he led you along the side of the cottage, far enough that no one could hear. the moon above made his face look unfamiliar. all sharp angles and shadows. not the boy who used to sneak you out of class or kiss you behind greenhouses. not the boy who laughed with a dimple in his cheek. this was someone else.

he stopped and turned to you, and you could feel it—something shifting in the air.

“i thought i’d find you and you’d still be… you,” he said.

your heart twisted. “you thought i’d be untouched.”

his breath caught. “i thought you’d still smile the same. talk the same. still… love the way you did.”

“you mean love you the way i did?

he didn’t speak. didn’t deny it. didn’t pretend.

you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the shaking. “you’re not the same either, harry.”

he looked down. “i know.”

the silence between you wasn’t gentle. it was full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you’d lost. the people you couldn’t save. the nights spent wondering if the other was alive.

“you used to hold my hand when you couldn’t sleep,” you said. “like it was the only way you’d make it till morning.”

his eyes flicked up. “i used to think of your laugh every time i thought i was going to die.”

you inhaled sharply. “then why does it feel like we’re strangers now?”

“because maybe we are,” he whispered. “or maybe we just don’t know each other like this yet.”

you were still and quiet and afraid to say the thing that had been sitting in your throat for days. but you said it anyway.

“do you still love me?”

he looked at you. eyes wide. raw. honest.

“i don’t know if i love you now,” he said. “or if i love who you used to be. and i don’t know if you’d even want to love who i’ve become.”

you didn’t. not yet. not blindly. not without understanding the ghosts he now carried.

but then his fingers brushed yours. light. tentative.

“but i want to find out,” he said. “i want to know who you are now. and i want you to know me.”

plz ignore the second image over there tumblr isn't letting me remove it :(

[hjpsdiary]

THERE'S NOR MUCH LEFT FOR ME, BUT YOUR STILL WHAT I REACH FOR - HJP X READER

the woods are cold and unkind. the fire crackles weakly in the middle of their camp, and harry doesn’t sleep anymore. hermione’s curled in her blanket across the tent, her face pale and tired. the horcrux is off, lying useless on the table, and the world is painfully quiet — except for the way harry’s heart won’t stop remembering you.

he doesn’t try to close his eyes. every time he does, he sees your face — not in the way you looked the last time, when he ended it — but how you looked when he felt like he had a future. you, laughing beside him in the burrow’s garden, barefoot in the grass, flicking your wand at the wind to make the leaves spin around you. you, dragging him behind that tapestry on the fifth floor just to kiss him stupid before class. you, sprawled across the gryffindor couch, head in his lap, eyes half-lidded, mumbling something about tea and rest and staying close.

now, you’re not here.

because he told you to go.

he told you it wasn’t safe — that he’d put you in too much danger if you stayed. that you deserved a life that didn’t end in war, in ruin, in him. and you listened. not because you wanted to. but because you trusted him.

he checks the marauder’s map every night. not for snatchers. not for draco. not even for voldemort. for you. he watches your name move through the castle like a soft, distant ghost. once he saw you at the astronomy tower. you stayed for nearly two hours, unmoving. and he couldn’t stop staring at the tiny dot marked y/n and remembering the first time you kissed him up there — the stars behind your head, your breath on his mouth, your laugh when he nearly tripped over his own feet.

he writes letters he never sends. half-finished scraps of parchment. some start with “i’m sorry,” others with “i miss you so much i can’t breathe.” most end with “but i hope you’re forgetting me. you should forget me.”

because as much as he wants you beside him, curled up in his coat with your fingers in his hair… he wants you alive more. happy. whole. unbroken.

the war has taken a lot from him. but nothing like losing you.

there are nights he looks into the flames and remembers your hands. your voice. the way you always said his name when you were tired — soft and slow, like it meant something. and he aches. his chest, his ribs, his throat — all of it aches.

one morning, after days without sleep, he stands in front of the mirror and doesn’t recognize himself. pale. hollow-eyed. his reflection doesn’t look like someone you’d love. and in a voice so quiet it barely sounds real, he says, “i wish we’d never met.” the lie cracks in his mouth. he presses a hand to the cold sink and says again, with a ragged breath, “i just wish i didn’t have to let you go.”

when he dives into the frozen lake for the sword, it’s your voice that comes back to him. yelling at him for not wearing gloves. calling him reckless and brave in the same breath. his limbs go numb fast. he almost lets go. but then your laugh echoes somewhere under his ribs. bright and stupid and everything that made him want to live. and he kicks harder. breaks through the surface with water in his lungs and your name on his mind.

you aren’t there when he climbs out. you aren’t there when hermione wraps a towel around him. but you’re still the reason he doesn’t give up.

but you’re still his reason.

you’re not with him.

[hjpsdiary]

can someone write more of Harry Potter x reader and not like the franchise characters like the main character harry bc i was scrolling on my fyp and saw hjp head cons and i can't find any ff what so ever on tumblr!!!

[hjpsdiary]

“BACK TO YOU” — sixth year harry j. potter x reader

you’re sitting by the fire in the gryffindor common room, herbology notes in your lap, quill dangling loosely in your fingers. it’s late enough that the fire’s burned low and the only sounds are the crackle of embers and the occasional turn of a page.

then the portrait swings open.

cold air rushes in, followed by messy hair, muddy boots, and that boy.

him.

and then, like clockwork—

“hey, harry!”

you don’t even have to look. you already know it’s marissa clearwater. always a little too smiley around him, always lingering a little too long near the gryffindor table.

you do glance up, though.

harry’s cheeks are flushed from flying. his robes are still clinging to him from the wind. he gives marissa a polite smile, maybe says hi (you can’t hear), but he’s not really paying attention.

he’s already looking for you.

and the second he sees you, he’s walking past her without another word.

“miss me?” he grins as he drops onto the rug beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours.

“would never admit it,” you mumble, not looking up from your parchment.

he groans, flopping back like his whole life just took a dramatic turn.

“marissa asked me if i wear cologne.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“do you?”

“no,” he says, “but apparently i smell like danger and broom polish.”

you snort. he grins like he’s been waiting all day to hear that sound.

then, casually, like it means nothing, he pulls a slightly squished chocolate frog from his pocket and places it on your notes.

“peace offering,” he says.

“for what?”

“being late. and making you sit through marissa’s mating call.”

you laugh. you unwrap the frog and take a bite without breaking eye contact.

“you’re lucky i like chocolate.”

he’s quiet for a second.

then, softer—

“you know i’d always come back to you, right?”

you blink. the fire crackles. he’s not even looking at you when he says it—just staring at the flames, like it slipped out.

your heart trips over itself.

you nudge his arm gently.

“hey, harry.”

he finally turns to you.

“yeah?”

“i know.”

[hjpsdiary]

“bella, i think you dropped something—my heart.”

- theodore nott x reader

you were sitting in the common room, tucked in your favorite armchair, legs folded underneath you, book open in your lap.

it was unusually loud tonight—blaise and mattheo were throwing crumpled parchment balls at each other from opposite ends of the room. enzo was half-laughing, half-snoring on the couch with a chocolate frog wrapper stuck to his cheek. draco was pretending to read but absolutely not pretending to eavesdrop.

you were just trying to stay invisible.

until he walked in.

theodore nott.

his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. tie loosened, sleeves rolled. and that smile—lazy, but shy, and just barely tilted in your direction.

“she’s here,” blaise whispered loudly to mattheo, nudging him with his elbow.

you looked up, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

theodore was coming over. casually. but definitely not casual.

“bella,” he greeted softly, that slight lilt in his voice curling around the word like honey.

you blinked. “hi…”

his hands were in his pockets, shoulders a little tense. he wasn’t usually nervous. not like this.

mattheo was grinning like a menace behind him.

“so,” theo started, and paused. “i was thinking… you’re not going to the yule ball with anyone, right?”

you blinked again. very smooth. very articulate. classic you. “um… no?”

he smiled, one side of his mouth tugging up, voice lowering just a bit. “buona. i mean—good. that’s good.”

you could feel the stares of every other boy in the room digging into your back.

blaise mouthed “oh my god” while fake-fanning himself. enzo coughed something that sounded like “simp.”

you wanted to disappear. theo glanced at them, then rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath in italian.

“ignore them,” he said, now fully focused on you. “they are idiots.”

you bit back a smile.

“anyway,” he said, trying again. “i wanted to ask… maybe—if you want—would you go with me? to the ball?”

his voice was softer now, almost shy. the italian dipped into his tone like a secret. like he didn’t ask girls this sort of thing often. or ever.

you looked at him. really looked.

his eyes were warm. hopeful.

you smiled, fingers fiddling with the corner of your page. “okay. i’d like that.”

his whole face lit up—quietly, like sunrise. not dramatic. just warm.

“grazie, bella,” he said, under his breath, like it was just for you.

mattheo groaned obnoxiously from the couch. “someone put a silencing charm on them before i vomit.”

“shut up,” theo muttered, barely holding back a grin, reaching over to smack mattheo’s arm on the way out.

you sat there with your heart doing something weird and fluttery and fast in your chest, book completely forgotten.

when you looked back toward the stairs, theo was still watching you.

and he winked.

[hjpsdiary]

Y'all are too bothered fr

Why the fuck do you have a racist, misogynistic, antisemitic predatory Kanye West even pictured on your blog?

Let’s clear this up. I used that picture purely for the aesthetic, which is clearly visible. Nowhere in my fanfic do I mention Kanye or reference his behavior. It’s just an image for my blog’s layout. Do I support him? No. But let’s be real—plenty of your favorite bloggers use images of people who are just as problematic, purely for visual purposes. It’s about the appearance, not endorsement. So if you don’t like it, don’t look. Simple as that.

[hjpsdiary]

noble act - blaise zabini x reader

the slytherin common room was unusually quiet that night, the usual hum of conversation and crackling fire reduced to a soft stillness. you had just settled onto the green velvet couch, hoping for a quiet moment to read, when blaise appeared.

he stood by the entrance for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you, before slowly making his way over. something about the way he moved—hesitant, almost reluctant—set your nerves on edge.

“hey,” you said, closing your book and sitting up straighter.

“hey,” he replied, his voice softer than usual.

he didn’t sit beside you. instead, he stayed standing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looked down at you.

“blaise?” you asked, your brow furrowing. “what’s wrong?”

he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we need to talk.”

your stomach sank at those words. nothing good ever followed “we need to talk.”

“okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “talk.”

he hesitated, his jaw tightening as if the words physically pained him. “this… whatever we’re doing—it’s not working.”

the air felt like it had been knocked out of your lungs. “what are you talking about?”

“us,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “i can’t do this anymore.”

you stood up, your heart racing. “why? what changed? you were fine yesterday—”

“i wasn’t,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “i’ve been trying to pretend, trying to make it work, but… i can’t.”

“pretend?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “pretend what? that you care about me?”

“no,” he said quickly, his tone laced with frustration. “that i can be what you deserve.”

“don’t do that,” you said, shaking your head. “don’t turn this into some noble act like you’re doing me a favor.”

“it’s not noble,” he said quietly. “it’s honest. you deserve someone who can give you everything, who isn’t constantly second-guessing himself, who doesn’t—” he broke off, his voice cracking.

“who doesn’t what?” you pressed, tears welling in your eyes.

“who doesn’t ruin the only good thing in his life,” he finished, his voice barely audible.

“you’re not ruining anything,” you said, stepping closer. “but you are breaking my heart by walking away.”

he looked at you then, and for a moment, you thought he might change his mind. but the resignation in his eyes told you otherwise.

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft but final.

you stared at him, your chest tight, your mind racing for something to say that would make him stay. but the words wouldn’t come, and he was already stepping back.

“goodbye, y/n,” he said, his voice breaking as he turned and walked away.

you didn’t call after him. you didn’t chase him. you simply stood there, watching as he disappeared up the stairs, taking a piece of your heart with him.

and for the first time, the common room felt cold, empty, and impossibly quiet.

[hjpsdiary]

theo & reader when TikTok was banned

you’re lying across theo’s bed, dramatically sprawled out like your world is ending. because, honestly, it kind of is.

“i don’t know how to go on,” you mumble into his pillow.

theo, sitting at the edge of the bed, barely looks up from his book. “merlin, what now?”

you lift your head just enough to glare at him. “tiktok is banned, theo.”

he flips a page, unimpressed. “tragic.”

you groan. “you don’t get it. i had thousands of videos saved. thirst traps. edits. theo nott povs. gone.”

this gets his attention. he raises an eyebrow. “povs?”

you bite your lip. “not important.”

he shuts his book with a soft thud, turning toward you. “you mean to tell me you’ve been watching videos about me?”

you roll onto your back, covering your face with your hands. “i plead the fifth.”

“that’s a muggle thing, love.”

“exactly.”

he smirks, shifting so he’s hovering over you, hands braced on either side of your head. “so, let me get this straight—you’ve been secretly obsessing over me on tiktok?”

“theo.”

he’s grinning now, leaning closer. “i should start charging for all this free entertainment.”

you groan, shoving at his chest. “you are the worst.”

he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips. “but i’m all you’ve got now, huh?”

you huff, but you don’t pull away. “unfortunately.”

his smirk softens into something smug yet unbearably fond. “lucky you, then.”

[hjpsdiary]

"little dove" - daemon targaryen x younger! reader

it was overwhelming—the noise, the grandeur, the presence of the man who had just entered the hall. you’d heard stories about daemon targaryen, the rogue prince, the rider of caraxes, the wielder of dark sister. but nothing could have prepared you for him in person.

he strode into the room like he owned it, silver hair gleaming in the light of the chandeliers, his sharp violet eyes sweeping across the crowd with a mix of disdain and amusement. he didn’t walk; he prowled, exuding a confidence that made the lords and ladies in the room shrink back without him even saying a word.

you were trying not to stare. really, you were. but it was impossible not to. he was unlike anyone you’d ever seen—sharp, dangerous, and utterly magnetic.

unfortunately, he noticed.

his gaze landed on you, lingering for a moment too long, and your breath hitched as he tilted his head, his smirk widening like he’d caught you doing something forbidden. he changed direction, cutting through the room with ease, and suddenly, he was standing in front of you.

“what’s this?” he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying just the faintest hint of mockery. “a little dove lost in a room full of wolves?”

you blinked up at him, your cheeks flushing as you scrambled to respond. “i—i’m not lost,” you stammered, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

daemon chuckled, the sound low and rich, as he leaned in slightly, his violet eyes never leaving yours. “no?” he murmured. “then what are you doing, sitting here so quietly? afraid someone might notice you?”

“no!” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “i just… i prefer to observe.”

his smirk deepened, and he straightened, his hands resting casually on the hilt of his sword. “observe,” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like it amused him. “tell me, little dove, what have you observed about me?”

your heart raced, and you looked down at your lap, unsure how to answer. “nothing,” you lied, though it was painfully obvious.

daemon leaned down again, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “you’re a terrible liar,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. “but i’ll allow it. for now.”

you dared to glance up at him, your cheeks still warm as you struggled to steady your voice. “why are you talking to me?” you asked softly, genuinely confused.

he tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more curious. “because you’re the only one here who isn’t tripping over themselves to impress me,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “and i find that… interesting.”

you didn’t know how to respond to that, so you said nothing, your fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric of your dress. daemon watched you for a moment longer, as if trying to unravel whatever secret he thought you were hiding, before stepping back.

“we’ll talk again, little dove,” he said, his smirk returning as he turned to leave. “i think i’d like to see what else you’re hiding.”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you flustered and confused, your heart racing as you replayed his words in your head. it was your first conversation with daemon targaryen, but you had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be your last.

[hjpsdiary]

WHAT WAS LOST - daemon targaryen x reader

A/N : lil swap in content but hp content will be back trust guys

the halls of the red keep buzzed with the quiet hum of courtly whispers, the kind that wrapped around corners and grew heavier with every retelling. daemon had heard bits and pieces all morning—snippets about the princess, the maesters, and the twins.

he didn’t want to believe it.

“what are they saying?” he barked at one of the guards lingering in the corridor. his tone was sharp, cutting through the muted murmurs around him.

the man hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously to the floor. “my prince, i don’t mean to—”

“say it,” daemon snapped, his patience already thin. “what’s happened?”

the guard shifted uncomfortably, then mumbled, “the princess... the twins. they’re gone.”

daemon’s chest tightened, his pulse quickening as the words sank in. “gone?” his voice was quieter now, colder. “what do you mean, gone?”

“it happened days ago,” the man said hesitantly. “the maesters tried, but—”

daemon didn’t wait to hear the rest. his steps were quick and purposeful as he made his way toward your chambers, his mind racing. the whispers in the keep grew louder in his head, swirling with questions he didn’t want to ask but couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

when he pushed the door open, you were sitting by the window, your head bowed, hands clutched tightly in your lap. the late afternoon light streamed through the curtains, painting the room in muted golds and shadows.

you didn’t move when he entered.“is it true?” his voice was low, almost calm, but there was an edge to it, a tension that made the air feel heavier.

you flinched slightly, but didn’t look up. “daemon—”“don’t,” he cut you off, stepping further into the room. “don’t start with my name. just answer me. is it true?”

your throat tightened, your hands trembling in your lap. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face. “yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“it’s true.”the silence that followed was suffocating. daemon’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he stood there, unmoving. his mind raced, trying to process your words, trying to understand how something like this could’ve happened without him knowing.“when?” he finally asked, his tone sharper now.

“when did it happen?”

“two days ago,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“you didn’t know how to tell me?” daemon repeated, his voice rising slightly. “so i’m supposed to hear it from the servants instead? from whispers in the bloody halls?”

your shoulders shook as tears filled your eyes, but you forced yourself to keep your gaze down. “i thought—i thought it would be easier this way.”

“easier?” he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “for who? for me? for you?”

“daemon, please—”

“no,” he snapped, cutting you off again. “don’t. you think i wouldn’t have wanted to know? to be here?”

the room fell silent again, the weight of his words hanging heavy between you. finally, you looked up at him, your eyes red and filled with guilt. “i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

he stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven. then, slowly, he crossed the room, dropping to one knee in front of you. his hands hovered for a moment before settling on your stomach, his touch hesitant but firm.

“they were here,” he said quietly, his voice rough, almost hoarse. “i felt them.”

you nodded, your tears spilling over as you whispered, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” he said immediately, his tone sharp but not unkind. “don’t apologize. not for this.”

you sobbed quietly, your hands covering his as he pressed his palm more firmly against your stomach. he didn’t say anything else—daemon was never one for words in moments like these. instead, he stayed there, his head bowed slightly, his touch grounding you both.

the room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire and your uneven breaths. daemon’s hand lingered on your stomach, his grip tightening slightly as if he could somehow hold on to what was lost.“i should’ve been here,” he muttered after a while, his voice low and rough. “maybe if i had—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “don’t do that to yourself.”he didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened, his violet eyes flickering with something raw and unspoken. for all his sharp edges and unyielding pride, there was a vulnerability in him now that he couldn’t hide.

“they’re gone,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “and i don’t know how to—”“we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice firm. “we don’t have a choice.”it wasn’t a grand declaration.

it wasn’t filled with soft reassurances or promises he couldn’t keep. but in daemon’s world, it was enough. it was his way of telling you that, no matter how broken the two of you felt, he wasn’t going to leave.and for now, that was enough.

[hjpsdiary]

COCA COLA - theodore not x fem!reader

the sound of the common room door opening broke the relative quiet, followed by loud voices and laughter. you didn’t even need to look up from your book to know who it was. the slytherin boys always made their presence known.

“theo, you skipped out on the match?” blaise’s voice was dripping with mock disbelief. “what’s the matter, afraid of a little excitement?”

“quidditch is for show-offs,” theo drawled, leaning lazily against the windowsill. he was nursing a half-empty bottle of coca-cola, his dark eyes watching you as though you were the only person in the room. “besides, it’s loud. not my thing.”

“ah, so you decided to sit here and stare at your girl instead?” mattheo riddle teased, flopping onto the couch and throwing his feet up on the table. his smirk was as wicked as ever. “romantic, theo. very romantic.”

your cheeks burned, but theo didn’t rise to the bait, just tilted his head and smirked back. “jealous, riddle? don’t worry, mate, i’m sure there’s a first-year somewhere who’d love your attention.”

“oh, piss off,” mattheo shot back, though the grin on his face said he wasn’t offended.

“leave them alone,” draco’s drawl came from somewhere behind mattheo. “some of us would rather not hear theo being all… sentimental.”

“who said i was being sentimental?” theo retorted, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer to you. “just sharing a drink, that’s all.”

blaise, ever the instigator, chuckled from his spot by the fire. “right. because handing over your drink isn’t intimate at all.”

“shut up,” you muttered, your face now fully flushed. you’d been trying to focus on your book, but with theo standing so close, his piercing gaze fixed on you, it was impossible to concentrate.

“you gonna defend me, or just let them keep running their mouths?” theo asked, his tone teasing as he handed you the bottle again. his fingers brushed yours, lingering just a second too long. “don’t be shy, y/n.”

you hesitated, taking a small sip of the soda. the sweetness lingered on your tongue, and you could feel theo’s eyes on you the entire time. when you handed the bottle back, his smirk deepened.

“what’s that look for?” you asked, your voice a little shaky.

“nothing,” he said, taking a slow sip himself. but when he pulled the bottle away, his tongue darted out to lick a drop from his lip, and his eyes were darker than they had been before. “just thinking how good it tastes.”

the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, and the room suddenly felt too warm. before you could respond, mattheo groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. “merlin, can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five seconds? some of us are trying to relax.”

“jealous?” theo asked, his smirk never wavering as he handed the bottle back to you. “don’t worry, riddle. maybe y/n will share.”

“not a chance,” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness.

the room erupted in laughter, mattheo throwing a pillow at you, which you easily dodged. but theo’s attention never wavered. he stepped closer, the bottle still in your hands, and leaned down so his face was level with yours.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice just low enough that only you could hear, “i can still taste it on you.”

your breath hitched as his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, barely a whisper of contact, but enough to make your heart race. his hand found your waist, his grip firm and possessive as his thumb grazed your skin.

“oi!” blaise called out, his tone mock-offended. “take it to your dorms, theo. some of us don’t need to see this.”

“then stop looking,” theo shot back, his voice lazy but his eyes locked on yours. “besides, you lot are the ones who interrupted.”

draco groaned, running a hand through his hair as he stood. “right. that’s my cue to leave. if you’re going to be insufferable, do it somewhere else.”

as the others filtered out of the room, still throwing jabs and laughing, theo turned back to you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “finally,” he muttered, his thumb brushing your cheek. “now, where were we?”

you couldn’t even form a response before his lips were on yours, soft and sweet, tasting of coca-cola and something undeniably theo. the kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but when you sighed against his mouth, his grip on your waist tightened, and he deepened it, leaving you breathless.

“you taste better than the coke,” he murmured, his voice rough as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “but don’t tell blaise. he’ll never shut up about it.