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[parkerflix]

—comfort

charles leclerc x gn!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: a glimpse into a rainy day date

wc: 0.3k

a/n: been stuck in the worst writers block so this is super unpolished but it is what it is (: (definitely not my best work!)

the timer went off, and had both you and charles scrambling to stop it. he had come over the weather calling for a warm dessert. charles had brought over some wine and some dinner, the two of you having planned to go out on a picnic before the weather turned to rain.

you opened the oven, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air. carefully pulling out the tray, you placed it on your countertop. charles came over to try to sneak a bite, wincing in pain when he touched how hot the bread was.

“sometimes you should really wait for me to tell you it’s ready to eat.”

“it looks good though! can you blame me for wanting to try it? you slaved away for me.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling at him.

“you said you wanted coffee cake. i was not going out in this weather. plus we had all the ingredients to make it.”

after a few minutes, you cut a piece for him, making him a quick decaf coffee with it, just how he liked it.

sitting down at the dining table, the soft hum of the television playing some movie the two of you had seen multiple times, made it feel like home.

you slid over his coffee and coffee cake, patiently waiting for his reaction. charles took a bite and smiled.

“mon chou, it’s amazing. i’m going to have to have you make this every weekend.”

you smiled at that, feeling your heart fill with pride and happiness. you both ate and drank your coffees, and when you finished, moved over to the couch.

you were grateful for these days with him, knowing that long distance when he was on the road for work made things difficult.

you spent the rest of the night curled into his side, the pittering of the rain slowly fading away, the only sound being the hum of the tv and your heartbeats.

[parkerflix]

without you, part 2

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: hey the title rhymes. Hi angels! Part 2 is finally here, by heavy demand! And uh... for those who thought I was gonna fix everything with this part?? No, I'm here to make it worse! Woo! (Don't hate me, I did warn you lmao). So, enjoy the angst! Hope it's worth the wait x

Summary: continuing on from Part 1 - You return after the ‘blip’. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time. Where does that leave you now?

Word count: somewhere in the 2.7k zone idk

Warnings: ANGST. Angst squared, if you will. Broken hearts everywhere. Broken hearted reader. Broken hearted Matty. A brief broken hearted Frank coming in for the rescue. Not a happy ending. Mentions of divorce and the religious thoughts surrounding that, the Blip and the devastation it would've caused, break ups, brief jealousy, heavy denial, anxiety, lots of crying and I just want to hold onto him forever & ever. This is unedited coz I'm lazy and like to just throw things out into the void and die like a warrior.

There’s a vicious, relentless pounding behind your temples when you finally begin to feel the darkness pulling at your mind recede. With the constant stab of pain, everything returns—the apparent lost time, the strange new world that had grown during your absence, the relationships that had also changed during those five years.

Five whole years.

It might as well have been an eternity.

Your whole life, everything you knew—gone. It doesn’t seem real, it’s just not possible, and yet here you are. Here you are in a world that still feels so familiar, and sickeningly not. Your thoughts are a vicious storm in your mind, merely intensifying the throb running along your forehead. Your system flutters between confusion, denial, mourning.

It’s enough to make you want to simply fall back into the blissful void of unconsciousness, until—

“Sweetheart?”

Matt. 

Your heart still jumps at his gentle rasp, a part of you longing to just soften into his hold and cling to him like you’d done so many times before, but you can’t. He’s not—he’s not your Matt. Not anymore. 

It’s hard to pull away from the fingers tracing your cheek, and when you open your eyes, they wince from the light shining through the large windows. He’s knelt on the floor beside you, a frown of concern creasing his brows as you slowly shift on weak limbs until you’re sitting upright on the leather.

You study his features through raw, hazy eyes, and it’s only now you notice the subtle changes you had missed upon your return to the apartment—the few more creases lining his face, the extra spatterings of grey strands amongst his dark tresses. His hair… it’s shorter too, now that you’re really looking. How had you not seen that? Not noticed?

Maybe it was the panic. It had to have been. You didn’t notice anything else when you ran in. Your surroundings had changed within a second, everything was all just so confusing and mad—you had just wanted him, you wanted home. Turns out, you had no home to return to. No one to return to. 

There must be so many others. The pain must be immense throughout the world. Lovers returning to mere memories. Parents returning to kids left behind, now years older and practically strangers. Children returning to homes that were no longer there, lost amongst the new world and without anyone familiar around them to find comfort in. God, they must be so scared.

Matt’s hand returns to your face, the backs of his fingers testing the feel of your forehead before ever so slowly trailing away until they rest where your pulse thrums through the skin of your throat. It’s not necessary—he’d hear it across town. Maybe he’s seeking physical reassurance that you’re really here, right in front of him.

“Talk to me,” he pleads quietly, “say something, anything.”

You find nothing worth speaking. You doubt you’d even have the strength to speak with how dry and heavy your tongue feels in your mouth. His hand moves, fingers hot on your skin as he cups the underside of your jaw and this time, you don’t quite have the strength to pull away.

All you want is this.

His touch, his presence—him.

“Sweetheart, I—” he stops, head tilting ever so slightly towards the door.

You watch him stiffen, tension rolling through his shoulders as he rises from his knelt position before turning towards the door to the apartment expectantly. It takes longer for your senses to catch up, but eventually the dull thud of boots hitting the flooring outside of the apartment hits your ears—

Frank.

Where was he through all of this? Had he been left to carry on with life, trying to make sense of a world left in ruin? Or had he been washed away with the breeze, just like half the planet? Universe? You want to ask Matt, but words seem to fade away on your tongue. 

He doesn’t bother knocking—he never has.

While there had been some stirrings of indifference between him and Matt after everything that happened, there was still a solid foundation of respect, which quickly extended to you the more you attempted to coax the beaten and bloodied man into your clutches for some much needed medical treatment. You were more than acquaintances, a little less than friends—just close enough for him to feel comfortable coming and going from the apartment should he have ever needed patching up.

“Apparently it’s been a while,” Frank mutters gruffly as a somewhat greeting once he’s stepped into the apartment, and you feel the same air of confusion and denial radiating from him.

He had been gone then, like you. How is he handling this? Does he feel as lost as you? As scared? You’d always thought him to be someone not exactly immune to the feeling, but at least stronger than others. As much as you feel for him, hurt for him, knowing exactly the type of thoughts and feelings that plague him, you find comfort in the fact that you weren’t alone in this.

Matt doesn’t respond, and Frank sighs tiredly, eyes flashing briefly to the side under his heavily bruised and swollen brow.

“I ain’t here to fight, Red.”

Matt’s tongue flicks over his lips and he gives a humourless huff, still not relaxing from his defensive stance. Maybe he was expecting Frank to be pissed and burst in like a raging bull with red in his vision, seeing as he and Karen had something brewing slowly between them all those years ago, but Frank doesn’t seem to be interested in any violence whatsoever.

You’re not even entirely sure what he’s here for.

“Well, Karen’s not here—”

“I know, she was with me,” Frank rumbles deeply, head tilting as he appraises Matt, “told me the happy news—congrats.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s damn near close. 

His gaze moves to you.

He studies the way you sit, drawn in on yourself and cuddling your chest in an effort to hold yourself together. You can feel how raw and swollen your eyes are, and when you finally manage to tiredly lift them to meet his, Frank seems to soften.

It’s only slight, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know his mannerisms well, but you see it.

“I was thinkin’ you might need a place, after hearin’ about—” he swallows, jaw rolling ever so slightly. He exhales sharply and shifts on his feet, “You got anywhere to go?” 

He’s here for you?

Matt intervenes immediately. “She’s staying here, Frank—”

Staying here? In the apartment you used to live in? That he now lives in with another woman? Was his idea to leave you sleeping on the couch alone, while they sleep in your bed together? No, it’s not your bed anymore. It’s their bed. Their apartment.

Five years of Daredevil and regular concussions must’ve really killed some of his brain cells. Is he even still Daredevil? Maybe married life changed his perspective on his dangerous nightly habits. Maybe his perspective changed on a lot of things. Is he even the same Matt you had left behind?

Frank’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing into a scowl as they flick back to Matt. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t askin’ you—was I, Red?”

“No,” you finally rasp in reply to his earlier question before Matt could retort, voice rough and weak in your throat, “no, I don’t.”

He nods, expecting your answer. “You got a bag?”

“I don’t know if I have any things left,” you mutter, bitterly wondering where your belongings went. Storage? Donated? The trash? How long did they leave it, did Matt leave it before tossing it all away? Like you’d never even existed, like you’d never even mattered. “Do I have anything here, Matt?”

Matt baulks at the ice coating your tone, and it’s unfair. You know that. Deep down you know you’re being unfair, a part of your mind gently reminding you that you probably would’ve thought and done the same in his position should it have been reversed, but you don’t care.

The familiar bite of anger, pain, still stirs relentlessly in your system and it trumps all reason and logic.

You had a life, and now it’s in complete ruins.

What are you supposed to do with that?

Frank nods sagely, “We’ll get you some things, ain’t gotta worry about that. You comin’?”

As much as you want to reject the idea of leaving, as much as your heart screams at you to stay with Matt because he’s all you know, he’s all you have, and he was telling you how much he loved you only mere hours ago… you give a minimal nod, and shift to stand from the couch.

It wasn’t hours ago—it was five years.

Five years.

Matt instinctively steps in front of you to keep you from moving any further, his tongue darting across his lips in an apparent panic, “You’re going with him?”

“Can you give us a minute? I won’t be long,” you ask Frank quietly, aching at the way Matt’s anxiety seems to heighten at your words.

Frank gives a single nod, and then slips out, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. Matt ignores it, every sense focused in on you and the way your heart beats a broken rhythm in your chest, the way your nails pick at the cotton of your sleeves, the way fresh tears smell building on your lash line—

“I have nowhere else to go,” you mutter, body now numb to feeling and just utterly exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the day had thrust upon you. “I can’t stay here, Matt. I can’t. Seeing you two—God, it’ll kill me. I can’t do it.”

Why you? Why did it have to be you? 

A part of you wishes it would’ve been Karen in your place, uncaringly and unknowingly torn from her life to leave everything she ever loved behind, only to return to a world that had survived, that had moved on without her… and you don’t even have the energy to feel guilty for such a thought yet.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even Matt’s.

“Sweetheart,” Matt pleads softly, hands seeking and taking your hands tightly, “just—just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

The thought is immediate—would he leave her? Could you ask that of him? Could you expect him to just drop and abandon everything he’s built during your absence?

You want to.

You want to tell him to break it off with her as soon as physically possible, to kick her out so you could be at home where you’re comfortable and with him and just act like nothing happened—

—but you can’t.

You can’t bring yourself to say the words.

What would he think of you asking a question like that? Would he even do it? You know how he feels about divorce, what his religion thinks of divorce. His whole belief system, his life, his God… would he abandon it all for you?

Looking at him now, how he physically pleads with you with those soft, lost eyes looking for guidance, you believe that maybe, just maybe, he would. 

But you can’t ask that of him.

You could never, and would never, ask that of him.

Unless—

“Were you happy?” You ask softly, eyes bouncing between his where they rest just left of your face. 

He blinks, a slight frown forming between his eyes in an effort to make sense of your unexpected words, “What?”

“Before I—” you take a breath, tongue rolling along your lips to moisten the sudden dry skin, “—before I just materialised back onto the street… were you happy? With your life? With her?”

Without me?

Say no.

God, please say no.

You begin to wonder why you asked. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment, maybe you think nothing could possibly hurt any more than it already does, but when his expression falters, when his mouth opens and nothing seems to make it past his lips, you know that’s not possible.

This… this seems to hit the hardest.

He was happy.

He was happy before you came back.

He was happy without you. 

And it’s… good.

It is.

Of course you don’t want him to be anything but that. He had found what he wanted from life—some normality, some peace, and it’s with that understanding that you realise you have no place here anymore. At least not with him. You have no part in his life now, and it shreds that last little untouched piece of your hopeful heart to absolute ruins.

Denial still pulls at your mind, still blatantly refuses to accept that five years had actually passed. You’d been nothing but a distant memory to him, to your friends, to the world, and yet, everything is still so vividly fresh for you. You only got out of bed, held him, kissed him, a few hours ago—a few fucking hours!

Five years.

“It’s okay,” you mutter, as his saddened eyes flutter in a panic, “I want that for you, Matt. I’ve always wanted that for you, even if that means I’m not—that we’re not—”

You ache at the thought of being apart from him, a feeling he had already experienced and endured. 

“Three years,” he says quietly, brokenly, a slow gathering of tears building along his lash line, “three years I searched, I waited, I prayed… if I had known—if I had known you… I wouldn’t have—”

—moved on. 

You envision Matt lost in the organised pews with dozens of other faceless mourners, on his knees and weeping into his closed hands, begging for the strength to finally let you go. He was granted it, after enduring agony for such a stretch of time, and now it’s all fallen to pieces at your return.

“It’s okay,” you repeat softly, the feeling of your heart beating in your throat choking the words, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head, face creasing as the tears begin to make their way down his cheeks, “no, it’s not. I’ve only just gotten you back. You’re back, and now—now I—God. I can’t say goodbye. Not again. I can’t.”

“So don’t,” you say simply, a fresh build of your own tears streaking your cheeks, “we won’t say goodbye. Just… just forget. Forget I ever came back, Matt. Everything will be as it was.”

He recoils sharply, as if you physically struck him. “I can’t do that—”

“Yes, you can. You have to, we all have to.”

“No, I won’t—”

“You told me to tell you,” you croak weakly, the feel of his coarse stubble piercing the soft skin of your palm as you cradle his cheek, “you told me to tell you what to do, and that you’ll do it. Well, this is it, Matt. This is what I’m telling you to do—forget I ever came back. It’ll be easier for everyone. You can keep what you had—what you have, and I—”

And you?

What will you do?

Where will you go?

Your hand falls from his face, only for it to be snatched up and returned to its previous spot with his own pressed tightly against it to keep it there. His tears smear against your skin, the evidence of his heartbreak an obvious reminder that he never let go completely.

There’s something still held for you within him, it just wasn’t the same as when you left.

His forehead comes to rest against your own, and you weaken into the familiar comfort of his touch, just for a moment. You don’t want to let go, don’t even know if you can. There's nothing left to be said, nothing left to be worked out. This is just it.

Why does it have to be this way? Your stomach churns at the idea of walking out for good. How can you? Nothing has changed for you—everything you feel for him is right there, right there where it’s always been, and you can’t do anything with it.

You indulge in the moment a little longer, stretching out to softly press your lips to his with the bittersweet taste of a loving goodbye—one last time. You savour the feel of him, his lips, so warm, so soft and sweet and familiar—

—and then pull away, the air filling the space between you lingering with the memory of what could have been.

He lets your hand fall away this time, pained haunted eyes scrunching closed as you further the distance between you until you’re at the door to the apartment. The quiet exhale of a sob reaches your ears as you open the door, and you dare not look back at Matt falling apart as you close it softly behind you.

[parkerflix]

our first night in paris - charles leclerc

a/n : this is my first time writing for charles so please be nice! this contains some french dialogue, but i'm actually french so dw for @lilirari !!

words : 1k

summary : this is your first night in paris with charles and he will certainly try to make you fall in love with the city. little did he know that you couldn't love anyone more than him.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

you were holding on your scarf for dear life, your breath leaving trails of white smoke in the cold night air. charles glanced at you with his soft gaze, his admiration for you washing over your body.

“you’re so cute when you’re cold.”

he put a hand on your shoulder, chuckling softly, planting a kiss on your cheek. the warmth making you shiver, it still lingered on your skin after he pulled back. you noticed how his dimples lovingly dug into his cheeks, and you noticed the intensity in his stare.

“so what do you wanna do mon chaton?” (sweetheart)

you shrugged, it really did not matter, as long as you had an excuse to spend time with him, you didn’t want to go back to the hotel yet. you wanted to enjoy him, witness his smile, his stupid chuckles, everything.

“i don’t care as long as you enjoy it”

he gave you a mischievous smile, you knew he had something in mind.

“si tu l'dis, on y va alors.” (if you say so, let’s go then.)

you dug your hand in his pocket trying to steal some warmth from him, his hand quickly reaching yours.

the dim yellow lights fell softly on top of his cheeks, the end of his eyelashes shone after droplets of water froze on top of them. the crunch of the dead leaves under your foot was the only interruption of the peaceful silence you two kept. for some reason, charles was the only person you felt comfortable being silent with. the silence carried such comfort, so much love it was sometimes overwhelming.

nothing could replace the way you felt around him.

he stopped walking, turned his head right to look at a bakery shop and then looked back at you with a huge grin.

"let's go inside, i want to show you something."

you smiled back and followed him, entering the bakery shop. a thousand of smells immediately enveloped you, they were unusual, buttery and sweet.

he picked out some pastries while you were gazing at the shop decorations. you wandered around like a little child in a toy store. stars shining in your eyes, stars charles induced.

he paid and left the shop with your hand in his. you both sat on a bench nearby while he showed you a pastry.

"so, this an éclair. un éclair au café, ceux là sont les meilleurs." (a coffee one, these ones are the best)

he chuckled softly.

"but don't tell pierre i said that, he prefers chocolate."

you chuckled at his behaviour, he was being so cute that you wanted to pinch his cheeks. you took a bite out of the pastry and found yourself enjoying it, there was something about the french pastries that was quite endearing, it was much more buttery and sweet from what you were used to, but it tasted like heaven.

he looked at you with such pride and tenderness in his eyes that the pastry felt bitter compared to him.

charles made you taste a couple more, smudging your nose with chocolate cream like a child would.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"i don't want to take you to the eiffel tower, it's not worth it."

he said while he started walking faster, the both of you sprinting past other people, your body brushing off other people as you apologised a thousand times.

"charles what are you doing?"

"just wait love, you'll see"

the chilly breeze swept through the streets of paris as charles led you through the lively city. as you turned over, the eiffel tower revealed itself, it stood tall and proud casting strong lights all over. you couldn't hide the gasp that escaped your lips after witnessing it for the first time.

a couple minutes later you both arrived in front of la seine, holding hands watching over the strong currents as they shimmered under the moon light. it was pretty, of course it was. but you still didn't understand how it was supposed to be better than the eiffel tower.

charles hand glided on your arm, making it's way all the way up to your neck before he cupped your face so gently, as if he was manipulating a little porcelain doll.

"you know, paris feels different with you."

he said, almost like a whisper. he didn't even kiss you yet that your heart was fluttering, a thousand of butterflies in your stomach screaming to flee, to witness daylight.

"you make every place feel a little better"

his fingers ran along your face, it tingled just right. he did the same movements as he always does. he did that thing that always made you melt.

"je fais le tour de la maison..." (i walk around the house...)

his finger ran around your face, going from your chin to your forehead in a circle.

"je ferme les volets.." (i close the blinds)

he brushed your eyelids shut.

"je ferme la porte..." (i close the door)

he pressed your lips together to close them gently,

then he took a great look at you, your face so peaceful, and pressed his lips onto yours. his fingers reaching the back of your ears, slowly holding your hair. you never understood anything he was saying, his words hanged in the air lost in translation.

eventually, you both came back to the hotel and he couldn't help but sink in your arms when you laid on the bed. his head was comfortably rested in your neck, you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

"did you like paris love?" he asked.

you stroked his hair, his eyes staring at you waiting for an answer.

"yes i did, wanna know what i liked best?"

he seemed all happy, his eyes glimmering like an excited puppy.

"no?"

"you."

his smile turned into a cocky one, judging you by his looks.

"there's no way you just ruined our moment by being cheesy."

"i'm afraid i did"

the look of pure disappointment on his face was like a treat.

you cupped his face with force, crashing your lips on top of his. he reciprocated your kiss with the same love, the same force.

the world was silent, your love was the only thing that screamed. it resonated against each wall, trapped in the room, never finding an escape.

[parkerflix]

hiii js wondering when pt 3 of the miles morales corazon despeinado is coming out? sorry for the rush😭🫶🏼💞

hello!! no worries for the rush actually the quite opposite!

to be transparent: it’s sitting currently at around 3k(?) and i honestly have written any part of it for months. i’ve hit a big writers block and i also just have had a lot of stuff happen in my personal life that’s taken up a lot of time. i’m hoping ill be able to finish it soon, should i post a snippet or two to show what ive done before?

[parkerflix]

love is just a word - masterlist

summary: Carlos Sainz? your best friend, former love of your life. Pierre Gasly? the current love of your life, your forever. or so you think. follow along as Y/N navigates through the hills and valleys of complicated relationships and heartwarming friendships to find out if love is really what she knows it to be. 

all parts below the cut!

Keep reading

[parkerflix]

airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there. 

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too. 

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old. 

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight. 

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay. 

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.” 

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words. 

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car. 

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead. 

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again. 

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward. 

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills. 

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs. 

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next. 

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often. 

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you. 

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut. 

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead. 

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come. 

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight. 

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question. 

Or was it? 

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests. 

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again. 

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music. 

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy. 

“Sandy?” 

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?” 

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.” 

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip. 

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve. 

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric. 

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything. 

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut. 

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on. 

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears. 

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother. 

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief. 

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone. 

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head. 

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it. 

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

[parkerflix]

wool ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive

warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner

a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)

main masterlist.

Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his eyes as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter. 

Control. That was all he needed. 

It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you. 

You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.

That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.

But there were… distractions.

Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.

He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.

Lower, lower, dangerously low—

When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.

She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”

Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.

“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”

You stiffened, and Coryo bristled. 

“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.” 

There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.

You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time. 

“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”

The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine. 

“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.

“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”

You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”

The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”

“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.

Your head tilted to the side, fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?

But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you. 

“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”

Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.

“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.

When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his. 

“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”

He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?

His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.

As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth. 

After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.

He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.

[parkerflix]

nina cried power ; frenchie.

track one of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; frenchie x gn!reader

synopsis ; he calls you a plethora of endearing french nicknames, but you call him an asshole.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; angst, fluff, mild action

warnings / includes ; profanity, kissing, blood and injuries, near death experiences and emotional constipation <3 a bunch of french pet names, frenchie is lovesick, reader is part of the boys gang, the rest of the members are mentioned, hughie and reader are also mentioned to be close friends

main masterlist.

The rag between your teeth tasted disgusting. Sweat and grime and flecks of blood stained the once-white fabric—which had come from Frenchie’s own shirt he tore to shreds to bind your wounds. You bit down harder, tongue retracting further down your throat in hazy revulsion, groaning in pain when you felt his hands all over your abdomen, doused with your dark ichor, his expression heavy-set with frantic concern.

“Hold still, mon amour,” he said, brows drawing together when you ignored him completely, roaring obscenities behind the fabric and thrashed even harder. What a fucking asshole. Memories of the first time you met Frenchie flashed behind your eyelids—he had stuck a gun beneath your jaw with a snarl and the rest was history. A complete one-eighty to his expression now. “HUGHIE, HOLD THEM DOWN!” he screamed, completely strung-up.

Faintly, you registered another pair of hands pinning you to the cold tiles of the floor, and your friend’s stuttering melded into the cavernous cacophony ringing in your ears. It felt as if a fire was eating you alive, trying to crawl its way from inside out. Your skin was hot, nearly scalding to the touch.

You still couldn’t really remember what happened. 

Supes… there were supes there. One moment you were helping M.M. reload his gun, and the next, half a dozen quills were sticking out of your abdomen, dripping with strange green liquid you’d come to learn was venom. You were going to die, weren’t you?

Frenchie had screamed your name—you couldn’t remember the last time he called you that. See, he always referred to you with endearing french nicknames that you really didn’t care for (lies, you were quite fond of his silly little pet names). You, however, called him an asshole. Sometimes affectionate, and most of the time, you really meant it.

But not this time.

Instead, you glanced at him with mild confusion, before looking down at your stomach, then back up at him. “Frenchie…?” you asked quietly, before collapsing to the ground.

The car ride back to base was painful. Butcher drove like a madman, and Hughie was sweating bullets in the passenger seat, constantly glancing back at you writhing in the backseats. Frenchie had situated you so your head was in his lap as he crooned reassurances that you couldn’t even hear.

God, everything was so dark. So loud. You wanted to claw at Frenchie’s arms and tell him that you hated him. Or that you loved him. Either would work. Damn it, the venom was messing with your mind. 

And that’s how you ended up with Frenchie’s shirt shoved between your teeth as you screamed bloody murder, calling him a bastard as he dug his fingers into the sloppy mess that was your stomach, muttering apologies over and over and over again.

“STOP!” you wailed, kicking at his knee when the agony tore you apart, tears streaking lines through the dirt on your cheeks. “You fuck—fucking asshole!”

He didn’t stop. 

If he did, you’d die. You weren’t a Supe, no matter how tough you presented yourself to be. Ironically enough, your utility belt clipped around your waist was shoved lower so he could work on your wounds, various sharp blades pressing dangerously against your back.

You had passed out from the pain at one point, going limp in his hold, which sent him into another frenzy. He snapped at Butcher with a fiery rage he’d never shown him before when the man offered to give you some temp V to speed up your healing. 

It took hours until he was done. You’d lost a lot of blood, but he managed to staunch it enough—it was messy, but it’d do. The red slick still left a part-sticky, part-dried residue over the skin of his hands, but he didn’t bother to wash it off. He refused to leave your side. So there he sat, shirtless and filthy, pressing kisses to the side of your sweaty head. It wasn’t often that he cried, but he cried for you. He didn’t even care that M.M. and Kimiko were sending him concerned glances. 

He just wanted you to be alright.

It was reassuring to see your chest rise and fall rhythmically. “Come back to me, mon chou. Come back.”

You woke up with a start. The first thing you registered was the thirst. Your throat was barren of any moisture, so you croaked out a raspy, garbled noise, barely loud enough to alert Frenchie who had passed out with his head propped on your shoulder. 

He sprang upwards, eyes flying wide open and lips parted as he cradled your face. The calluses of his fingers felt rough on your cheeks, and normally you would’ve grumbled at him, tell him to bugger off in true Butcher-like fashion, but all that came out was a quiet rumble of temporary relief.

“Wa… er,” you hacked out, grimacing at the scratchiness of your voice.

“I’ll get you water, ma puce, I’ll be right back,” he rushed to say, chapped lips coming forward to hastily slant over your forehead. “Don’t move.”

You had half the mind to chuckle at that. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

He disappeared through the door, and you suddenly felt cold without his presence. A tremor spidered up your spine. The pain in your abdomen was still there, now dulled to a faint throbbing. You realized that your bandages were far cleaner than when you had passed out, face clean and free of dirt.

A queer sort of sadness wrapped its dark palm over your heart. Frenchie took good care of you.

M.M. appeared by the doorway, wearing a mildly guilty expression.

“Hey,” he said, ambling closer. “How you feeling, kiddo?”

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. 

Gingerly rubbing the back of his head, M.M. whistled out a long exhale. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re hurt. And you saved my life. Thank you. Frenchie definitely gave me a mouthful when you were asleep.”

You allowed for a small grin to play at the corner of your lips. 

“He never left your side, you know,” M.M. mumbled. “He really cares about you. Loves you, even.”

After a considerably lengthy silence, you cracked open your mouth to hoarsely whisper out, “He’s an asshole.”

M.M. regarded you with a quirked brow. “And you aren’t? Come on. The two of you are perfect for each other.”

“He doesn’t love me,” you said in a small voice, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the floor. “He loves the idea of me, but not me.”

“What?”

The sound of that French accent by the door made your heart drop down to your stomach. Your eyes shot up to see Frenchie holding a glass of water, staring at you with an expression that so clearly read anguish.

M.M. pursed his lips awkwardly and sent you one last nod before doggedly bowing his head and striding out. Frenchie didn’t acknowledge him, gaze glued on you, shuffling forward and holding out the glass.

You made to take it from him, but he merely tutted, using his free hand to lift your chin and raise the cup to your lips. If you weren’t so desperately impatient, you would’ve protested. Just this one. This one time, you’d let him take care of you.

The water was heaven on your tongue. You gulped down so quickly that you nearly cried with relief, droplets falling from the corner of your mouth and meandering down your jaw. 

“Slowly, slowly, mon trésor,” he crooned, before placing the glass down. There was a tender look to his eye that you misliked. Asshole. “Good?”

“Good,” you croaked. A frown molded over your visage.

“What was that about, mon amour?” he asked, sitting on the mattress. “You think I don’t love you? Why on earth would you think that?”

When you refused to meet his eyes, Frenchie slotted his palm beneath your chin once again, gently running his thumb over your jaw until you reluctantly moved your irises to meet his.

“There you are. Bonjour, mon chou.”

“Hey, asshole.” 

Much to your chagrin, Frenchie threw his head back and laughed. It was a genuine laugh, full-chested and lively. 

“I love you. I love you so fucking much. I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know how to get you to believe me.”

You wanted to believe him so badly. Was it because you loved him, too? Or was it because you just wanted any love?

 “Then show me.” The words were soft—so quiet it was near indiscernible. 

Initially, there was a beat of shocked silence. Then, Frenchie didn’t waste any time leaning forward and kissing you gently, enveloping your lips with his own. He cradled your jaw with shaking fingers, nose slotted against yours so that it brushed your cheek when he angled his head to the side. It was so slow, so soft, so very warm that you nearly crumbled into a million pieces under his touch. 

He kissed like it was the last time he’d ever be able to do so. His brows furrowed in concentration, as if this was his one and only chance to show you just how much he adored you. 

When you finally broke away, you had a palm pressed against his bare chest. He knocked his forehead against yours affectionately, a pleased grin playing on his lips.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked. Before even giving you the chance to reply, he swooped back down to kiss you again. “And now?”

“You’re annoying, you know that?” you replied easily, though with a fond smile etched over your mouth. A sudden wave of bashfulness tumbled over you. You tilted your head slightly, averting your gaze once more. “Thank you. For saving my life. I could’ve died if it weren’t for you.”

He waved your sentiment away. “Bah, I didn’t do much. I cried—and I nearly pissed my pants. I was afraid you’d… you…” The words died on his tongue. He didn’t have the heart to finish his sentence.

“I’m okay,” you susurrated, leaning forward so that his nose bumped into yours. “Thanks to you. I owe you one, asshole. I owe you big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything, mon ange. I just need to know that you’re alright,” he whispered, lips only a hair's breadth away from yours—

Before Butcher sauntered in with his stupidly loud voice.

“Honeymoon’s over, you cunts!” he announced with his incredibly thick accent. Frenchie looked as if he was ready to commit homicide, and you could only muffle a snort of amusement, patting his bare shoulders in mock sympathy. The bearded man saluted you with a roguish leer. “Y/N, glad to see you’re back in tip-top shape. Hughie’s been a nervous little bird ever since you went down.” You most definitely weren’t in tip-top shape, but you supplied him with a forced smile that was far too wide to be deemed natural. It was nice to hear that your old friend was worried for you, though. 

Butcher clapped his hands together. "We’ve got some business to attend to."

[parkerflix]

OMG Paris I didn’t know you liked tsip 👀

I’m sry I just love talking abt it with ppl ☠️ I WILL be reading that Jeremiah fic 🫶🏽

i do! i read the books & finally got to the show 😭 it took a long time for me to get to the show but i really like it!

tbh im personally more of a jeremiah fan (book wise) but the show i like both jere & con like idk!

lmk your thoughts on the fic! it’s my first time writing for tsitp so im a little :/! hope you’ve been well!

[parkerflix]

— when he sees me

jeremiah fisher x gn!reader

genre: angst (lol)

synopsis: loving jeremiah fisher was hard. especially when he’s in love with someone else.

wc: 1.05k

part of the 1k celebration!

loving jeremiah fisher was always hard. you had only eyes for him, and you knew he only had eyes for belly. you tried desperately to distance yourself from those feelings, knowing you were putting more weight on your interactions with him.

every glance, every moment spent with him you ended up analyzing, trying to figure out if he felt even a fraction of what you felt. more often than not, you had to convince yourself that you were correct.

it felt like a bucket of ice had landed on top of your head when conrad and you came from his fina. seeing belly and jeremiah kiss knowing both you and conrad could come out at any moment made you stomach drop. it was the harsh wake up call that you needed.

conrad had interrupted them, and it all blurred in the background, your thoughts getting louder and overpowering. conrad took you away from them, taking you instead to help pack up his room.

you felt jealous, sadness and anger. belly wasn’t supposed to be with you guys. it was a last minute addition, and you felt jealous of her. she had the attention and affection of both fisher boys, while you pined over the younger fisher. it felt like a movie where she was the protagonist, and you just ended up being a unimportant side character.

the car ride with everyone was uncomfortable, and you tried blocking it out by putting in headphones. the cat’s movements made you drowsy, and it wasn’t until conrad slightly shook you awake that you noticed that you guys had stopped at a motel.

the atmosphere between the 4 of you seemed tense, and you felt out of place with their love triangle. they all bickered about the bed situation, and you felt as if the room was closing in on you.

running out of the room, you gasped for a breath and took a seat next to the vending machines. a tear rolled on your cheek and you hastily wiped it off, not wanting to let your guard down.

your name was called, and you looked up to see jeremiah standing there.

“are you okay?”

you nodded and took in a deep breath.

“yeah. i’m okay.”

he eyed you as if he didn’t fully believe you.

“are you sure? you ran out of there pretty quickly. i’m sorry if you feel like you’re in the middle of this whole thing—”

you squeezed your eyes shut and waved him off.

“it’s fine.”

“i know it’s an unfair position to be in, being stuck with all of us especially when belly and i-”

you stood up and balled your fists, letting your nails dig into the palms of your hands.

“jeremiah. i said it’s fine. can you drop it?”

you never were short with him, and it caught him off guard.

“what’s with you? are you upset at me too?”

you exhaled and your eyes darted everywhere but his face.

“it’s nothing. i don’t want to talk about it.”

“cmon, you’re my best friend. are you mad because we didn’t tell conrad?”

of course. he thought you were mad for conrad’s sake.

“no, jere but seriously drop it.”

“i wanna know what i did though! i cant stand you being mad at me.”

you felt like you were going to throw up, the words escaping you before you could react.

“i’m upset because of the kiss.”

your eyes widened and jeremiah stood there with a confused look.

“the kiss? it wasn’t intentional that conrad would see, he sort of just—”

“god! it’s not about conrad! why do you assume my feelings are about conrad? it’s because you kissed her.”

“it’s because i kissed her? what does that even mean?”

you sighed and slumped your shoulders. you knew you couldn’t run and hide from it like you always did, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

loving jeremiah fisher was hard, and you were tired of it being one sided. you wanted to be free of your feelings for the curly-haired fisher, wanting to just be his friend without analyzing his every move.

“i love you jeremiah. i have for a long time. so yeah i’m upset because you kissed her.”

“i-”

“do you know how hard it is to be your friend but be in love with you? do you realize seeing you look at her the same way i look at you kills me? no. you don’t. because everything is about conrad and how he feels and how belly feels and how you feel. i cant keep doing this to myself. it’s not fair.”

“doing what?” his words came out like a whisper, so faint that if you weren’t standing face to face you wouldn’t have heard him.

“this” you gestured between the two of you “this friendship. i cant do this anymore. at least not right now. it hurts too much.”

he was silent, mouth shut and his eyes holding a swirl of emotions.

“listen. i’m going to go back into the room, and i’ll take the bed with conrad. he’s aware of how i feel, and it’s just gonna be easier. we’ll talk in the morning.”

you pushed past him, and walked back to the room. pulling conrad to the side you kept him up to speed, ignoring the obvious longing and jealous look belly was giving you. it felt ironic that she was jealous of you when you were nothing but jealous of her.

the rest of the night went with you ignoring both belly and jeremiah. curling into conrad’s side, you finally let the tears fall silently and soak his shirt. he wrapped his arms around you, the two of you understanding how the other felt.

come morning, you quickly got ready and dressed before everyone else was up. getting out of the room you quickly found cell service and ordered an uber.

the car came for you quickly and you climbed in, making sure you had all your bags. you sent a text to conrad letting him know you left early for home and to not tell the others and turned your messages on mute.

putting your headphones in, you finally let yourself really cry, leaning your head against the window.

loving jeremiah fisher was hard, but you knew getting over him would be harder.

[parkerflix]

OK COMPUTER ; the series.

a series based on the album ok computer by radiohead for our 8k milestone! fandoms included ; marvel, succession, harry potter, the walking dead, arcane, dc, game of thrones, and bridgerton.

main masterlist. about.

TRACKLIST.

ONE. airbag ; steve rogers. five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

TWO. paranoid android ; roman roy. you’re crying, and roman’s staring at his hands. he wants to touch you. he knows he shouldn’t. instead, they reach up to tug fistfuls of his hair, painful and unrelenting. 

THREE. subterranean homesick alien ; fred weasley. you were looking up at the stars, and fred was staring right at you, a dopey, lovesick sort of smile playing at the corner of his lips. “do you think there’s life out there?” you asked, but instead of getting an answer, fred surged forward, a hand curling over the back of your neck to pull you closer, freckled nose bumping against your cheek, his warm lips slotting over yours, extinguishing any and all lingering existential questions on the tip of your tongue. 

FOUR. exit music (for a film) ; rick grimes. blood all over your torn shirt, giving way to teeth marks. his horrified eyes met yours. you were bit, it was clear as day—and you had to make sure rick knew a couple things before you left for good.

FIVE. let down ; viktor (arcane). it was his fault, really. he knew better than to fall in love with his coworker, who was just recently engaged to someone else. someone better than him.

SIX. karma police ; dick grayson. he skimmed his fingers down your side—your waist, your hips, your thighs. your chest was rising and falling rhythmically, features mellowed with sleep. he couldn’t help but wonder if “no strings attached” was really a good idea.

SEVEN. fitter happier ; miguel o’hara. there was a dangerous red glint to miguel’s eyes as you stepped between him and the kid. a muttered curse, a clenched fist, a twitching jaw. you weren’t afraid of the man you loved—but maybe you should be.

EIGHT. electioneering ; siobhan roy. tom had said he wanted to watch the two of you—but he didn’t exactly want to, not really. shiv didn’t quite care. it was his loss, after all.

NINE. climbing up the walls ; sansa stark. sansa begins to pull away from you after her father’s death.

TEN. no surprises ; sam wilson. the two of you go off to look for wanda, supposedly in a quaint little town called westview. but in a blink of an eye—you’re a smiling housewife and sam is your loving husband, trapped in a house that didn’t quite feel like home. 

ELEVEN. lucky ; theon greyjoy.  he thinks you look so very pretty laying on the snow, frost clinging to your lashes.

TWELVE. the tourist ; benedict bridgerton. it was typical of him, of course. to fall in love with the traveling artist with keen eyes and calloused hands.

[parkerflix]

—cupido

theodore nott x reader!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: going to bed without theodore nott was never fun.

wc: 0.4k

a/n: somewhat of a modern au! hogwarts is like. a normal boarding school in this & they can go off campus it makes sense in my head anywayyssss had theo brainrot the past few days + a reworking of an old fic from my aniblog! + part of 1k celebration!

Theo had always felt like home to you. So when you went to bed without him last night, it felt unusual and cold. He normally was in his dorm early enough to spend time with you in the night, but last night he stayed helping out Draco with more practice.

You were completely wiped from the week, and had showered, changed into one of Theo’s shirts and a pair of shorts and laid in bed skimming your book. you got tired of your book and started to watch a rom com which made you reminisce about when you and Theo started dating.

Eventually it was 10:30pm, and with no sign of Theo, you turned everything off and tried to sleep. The sheets were too cool for you, and the feeling of warm arms around your waist and a light breath on your neck was not real. You tossed and turned until you finally lulled yourself to sleep, not noticing that Theo was just arriving into the dorm.

When you woke up, you felt the bed still warm, but no sign of Theo. you sighed and got up, not knowing where your boyfriend went. As soon as you made it out of bed, the bathroom door of breakfast opened up. You saw Theo wearing his towel around his waist & drying his hair with another. You went up to him and gave him a kiss, which came as a nice surprise to him. Both of you pulled away, a goofy smile on both of your faces.

“Morning sleepyhead. Figured you were still asleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

You shook your head and snaked your arms around his neck.

“I missed you last night. Fell asleep before you came.”

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead and brushed your stray hair away.

“Sorry. Draco was trying to practice and then he wouldn’t stop talking about some random nonsense.”

You hummed and he wrapped his arms around you, tossing his hair drying towel towards a chair he had.

“How can I make it up to you?”

You make a show of you pretending to think before shrugging.

Theo pulled you flush against him, and smiled.

“How’s breakfast to start?”

You nodded and smiled.

“Sounds good.”

He gave you a quick peck, before detaching himself from you.

“Perfect, I’ll get ready and I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

[parkerflix]

All Wounds Heal

Theo Nott x gn! Reader, Draco Malfoy x gn! Reader

W.C.: 12,320.

Requested. Inspired by the song Happier by Ed Sheeran.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic for gender neutral reader. I hope it's fine but please let me know how I did it and if you have any advice or there is something that I could correct. Please share and comment, it is literally my motivation to write.

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, eating, cheating, angst, fluff, toxic relationship, alusion to drugs use. I might be missing something, please let me know if there is smothing else to add.

Masterlist | Join my Taglist | Theo Nott Requests Open!

The music was numbing the moment you stepped inside the Ravenclaw common room. It was impossible to walk inside the wide space without feeling the sweaty skin of the people dancing against your own, the soft fabrics of loose sleeves or the velvety feeling or tight dresses. You couldn’t hear your own thoughts, escaping the caging of couples dancing against one another, it was impossible to ask them to let you through without forcibly pushing them out or your way. They probably thought you were dancing with them. No one seemed in their right mind, too happy and loose with breathless laughs and out of sync singing. You suspected the smoke that covered the entire room had something to do with it.

It was a Saturday night after all. The school year at Hogwarts had just begun, with friends reuniting after a long summer break and no homework to care for yet, the blue-wearing students were on planning duty the moment the first weekend of September arrived. They certainly did not disappoint. You could be certain your entire year was there, no colours to differentiate them or to keep them from one another. Probably no one would remember that night, not names at least.

“Excuse me.” you muttered tiredly for what felt the millionth time only in the last five minutes. The girl in front of you smiled mischievously at you, taking your hand in hers as she twirled you on the spot, changing your places as she swayed her hips at the rhythm of the song. Her stretched arm brought you back to her, her free hand on your shoulder as she leaned to your side with a low chuckle.

“Have fun, pet.” she said through the loud music, her words clear on the shell of your ear as she moved to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, letting go of your hand as she turned around, arms swaying in the air as she became one with the crowd.

With a breathless chuckle and heated cheeks you turned back to keep opening your way through the sea of people, hoping Draco had not seen the exchange you just had with the girl that the crowd behind you was probably cheering on. Your boyfriend could become the jealous type in the blink of an eye, especially if it involved pretty girls.

At last you located the distinct all black clothing of Draco, his hair standing out against the dark blue tapestries of the constellations behind him and the armchair he had claimed as his. Not only that, his own low amused chuckle reached your ears like only you could provoque of him, yet you weren’t with him.

You had to push someone with your elbow, moving them from blocking your view as you stood at a good enough distance to not be perceived by him.

His hair wasn’t the only one standing out from the tapestries behind them.

A girl you recognized from the choir sat on his left leg, her fingers playing with her hair as she laughed softly, placing her hand against his chest. Draco seemed amused enough from what you could see from the side of his face, the corner of his mouth lifted in his characteristic smirk as he looked up to the girl, moving her hand from her hair as he brushed the long strands off her shoulder, following the line of her neck until he was cupping her cheek, already pulling her towards him.

You had seen enough.

“Fuck off, sweets.” you hissed to the girl as soon as you reached the side of the armchair. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw you standing there, struggling to her feet as she rushed away with a lowered head, muttering under her breath. Your attention shifted to the boy now standing in front of you, the burning tears pooling on your eyes as you looked up to his panicked gaze. “You have some fucking nerve, Malfoy.” you muttered, pushing him from his chest as he stumbled back a couple of steps, “Don’t follow me.” you warned, turning sharply on your spot.

The crowd seemed to sense your energy, all that saw you moving out of your way or getting pushed by you as you made it to the entrance and out to the Ravenclaw tower. The calls of your name were ignored as you rushed down the stairs, his following steps only fueling you to run.

“Would you stop for one second?” he called frustratedly, his hand connecting with your arm as he turned you on the spot, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you forced his hand off you.

“For what?” you asked with a hardened look on your face, a temporary mask to get you to the safety of your pillow where you could bury the tears. “What can you say that can make this better?”

He looked you up and down, his panicked state gone as a steeled practised look took over. Typical. “You don’t know what you saw.” he established with the raise of his hand, a calming movement that had no effect on you now, “I can explain it all.”

“Really?” you asked, nodding fervently as you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffling softly while leaning on the wall behind you. You turned your face back to him when the anger inside you started bubbling. “So I definitely didn’t just see you getting a little too comfortable with that girl back there? She’s from choir, right? Martha, is it?” you asked, tilting your head as you ran your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He breathed out, his eyes casted down to his feet. “I don’t know.” he murmured.

You made a sound, his face suddenly annoyed as he looked back at you, the sarcasm dripping off of you, “Well, go ask her.” you said with fake care, placing a hand on his shoulder while you looked for his eyes, “We wouldn’t want her to think you're anything but a gentleman.” Three pats on his shoulder and your hand was heavily dropped on your side as your entire face hardened again.

“It doesn’t matter.” he said, following you as you started to walk, “Nothing mattered, she was really drunk. I was trying to get her away from me.”

You laughed bitterly, not stopping once as you walked out of the tower stairs and into the halls. “You put up a really good fight.” you said, turning as the bitter taste in your tongue increased, “You know what?!” you hissed accusatory, “It’s even worse when you think about all the times that you have pushed me away because I’m being too much. Gotta hold up your mean reputation, right?”

“It’s not like that.” he said tiredly, rushing his steps as you started to practically run from him. He groaned, reaching for your hand as he stopped you. With ease he pulled you against his chest, letting go of your hand as he cupped your face, his fingers running all the way to your hair as he held you close to him, connecting your foreheads.

You were struggling against his hold, trying to push him away as he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay.” he whispered, the words so soft you barely heard them. But you did and that was worse. “I’m sorry.”

Your body felt as if it was hanging from a thread, numb but still standing. You stared at his closed eyes, shakily waiting until he opened them.

“You gotta hold up the lie, Draco.” you murmured, the caring look in his eyes gone the moment the words left your lips, “A couple more days and I would’ve believed you. You just admitted what you did.”

“No-” he blurted out, the words gone as you pushed him with all your strength.

He called your name again, making you walk backwards as you held up your middle finger in his direction, “And if it wasn’t clear, we’re done.” you said, finally turning from him as the first tear rolled down your cheek.

The lack of echoing steps confirmed he wasn’t following you, letting the tears flow freely as they blurred your vision. The soft voice in your head told you to go back, reasoning that he did not do anything and she was a person that did not know the definition of personal space, that Draco was telling the truth and was just apologising because he upset you with what you saw. However the other voice in your head was louder, screaming and cursing his name as it burned all the memories with heartbreak songs playing in the background. Your mind was housing two teenagers, one with a soft voice that was trying to run back to Draco and the one sitting on her tears while cutting in halves all the pictures you had together. The angsty one was louder and therefore right in your eyes.

You didn’t even realise when you reached the entrance hall of the castle, only the cold night air signalling it as you used your sleeve to clean the tear stains from your cheeks. You ignored all the laughter and chatting coming from the stairs that led to the dungeons, following the castle path to the courtyard.

You didn’t hear Theo calling your name.

“Y/N?” he asked as soon as he thought he saw you walking past him, your face hidden in the crook of your arm. He thrusted his hands in the chest of the person beside him, “Hold this for me, mate.” he said, letting his cup with them as he jogged to the outside of the castle, turning in all directions to look for you. “Y/N!” he called again when he saw movement going down the stairs, starting to run after you as he recognised the back of your head and the way only you could walk when upset, holding your fists close to your chest as if you were getting ready to start a fight. “Are you crying?” he asked, doubling his body over the railing of the stairs as you were already at the bottom of them. He ran after you, almost taking two steps down at a time when he almost clashed against your back, your frame shrinked to the ground as you sat down on the last step.

He took one silent step next to you, lowering to sit beside you as he became aware of the small spots where tears had fallen on your jeans. Worry took over him, staying silent as he waited for you to let it all out, to say something first before any stupidity he would come up with left his mouth.

The two of you sat there for over an hour in silence. Sometimes when he thought you were more calm he got himself ready for the fatal news you must have learned, watching as your breath became deeper only to see it all fall with the shaky flow of air out of your mouth, breaking down in sobs again.

At some point he had taken hold of your hand reassuringly, then you leaned on his shoulder. When you started crying heavily again, he wrapped his arms around you with soft words muttered in your direction and you threw your arms around his neck, hiding in the spot where his neck met his shoulder as he softly rubbed your back. The moon light was shining brightly over you when you found your head resting on his lap, dry from all your crying as the pads of his fingers danced over your scalp in a calming manner.

“I just broke up with Draco.” you murmured hoarsely when you felt like you would no longer break down.

He closed his eyes, a breath leaving him as if he had been punched in the stomach, “Merlin, I was not expecting that.” he said, almost painfully. “And it’s only the first week of sixth year.” he whispered, looking down as you turned to look at him. “Sorry,” he said apologetically, “Do I wanna know the details?”

“No,” you groaned, lifting your body so you could sit, “Maybe one day.” you corrected.

It took five minutes of chatting for you to confess the ten minutes that have ruined what felt like your entire life.

“He didn’t.” he whispered with wide eyes, hoping for you to start laughing and pat your cheeks with a triumphant smile, Draco bursting out of whatever place he was hiding to reveal he had fallen straight into their prank.

“He did.” you confirmed miserably, throwing a rock into the lake, “His apology confirmed it.”

He sighed, tilting his head as he looked at you, “I’m sorry, darling.” he said, giving you a sad smile. “I’ll hex him as soon as I see him.”

With a brief smile you shook your head, “I’ll just ignore him.”

“We’ll ignore him.” he assured you, “Two weeks if I completely ignore him. And raise that to a month if I have to talk to him in class or in the dorm.”

*******

Theo Nott made sure you got to your bed safely that night. He did not care how many locks he had to pick, how many people he had pushed out of the way or how many rules he broke, he made sure to stay by your side until you were tucked away in the safety of your dorm. He said his goodbyes to you shortly after, kiss placed on your forehead as you thanked him with the last seconds of consciousness you had before drifting off to sleep.

After he closed the door to your dorm, he turned with one destination in mind. The walk to his own dorm was short, his long steps and unstoppable anger rising within him blurred everything from his mind until he found himself bursting through their door.

“C’mon.” he muttered bitterly, standing just a couple of steps from the foot of the bed of Draco Malfoy, a glass loosely hanging from his hand.

Blaise stood from the chair next to the bed as soon as Theo took two steps, blocking his way with one hand raised in his direction. “Leave him be.” he asked patiently, side glancing at the blond behind him.

“Leave him be?” Theo asked in annoyance, taking one step back to look his friend in the eye. “That stupid asshole just had the best thing to ever happen to him crying for hours just because he didn’t know how to say no to the next pretty thing who threw themselves at him.” he accused, pointing his hand in Draco’s direction as his eyes burned over his pale skin.

“You saw them?” Draco asked, lifting his head for the first time since Theo had entered the room. His grey eyes popped out with the new added redness to them, turning something inside Theo in the wrong way, making the skin in his fist burn hotter by the second.

“Like you care.” Theo spat, turning his back to them for a brief second, hands running through his hair.

“He made a mistake,” Blaise intervened, standing between them with a neutral stance, “He’ll make it right to Y/N. Tomorrow you’ll look for them-”

“Like hell he’s going anywhere near them anytime soon.” Theo cut in, turning back to face Draco, “You’re lucky I promised not to do anything to you. If I had it my way, you’d barely be making it out of the Black Lake.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked, his glass hitting the wood of his night table too harshly.

Theo scowled in his direction, “You can make up your own conclusions.” he muttered, walking closer to him, “What were you thinking?” he asked tiredly, for the first time making it past Blaise's protective stance.

“I wasn’t.” Draco admitted, taking his glass on his hand again and staring at it, taking a big gulp of it.

Clearly, Theo thought, staring at his friend with disappointment.

“Were they…” Draco began to ask, running a hand down his face, “Are they alright?”

Theo scoffed, taking the glass from Draco’s hand as he downed the rest of its content. “Let’s see, mate. They just saw you with a girl on your lap, getting a little too friendly. When they saw you you tried to deny everything and then turned the entire story and started apologising.” Draco was biting the inside of his cheek, jaw clenched as he listened, “I’m sure they just continued the party in their room like another fucking Saturday.”

“Alright, he gets it.” Blaise said, placing a hand on Theo’s shoulder, “No need to make him feel worse than he already does.”

Theo pushed Blaise’s hand harshly, standing. “He deserves to feel like shit, alright.” he said to Blaise, clear enough for Draco to hear.

“It didn’t happen like that.” Draco defended himself, looking up to his friends, “I tried to explain but they wouldn’t let me and then- Where are you going?” he asked when Theo walked to their bathroom, turning to him just before he closed the door.

“Getting ready for bed.” he answered, “I don’t care about your side of the story and you just ruined saturday night for everyone. Hope it was worth it.” he said, slamming the door shut before anyone could say anything else.

Draco just scoffed, looking frustratedly to his empty glass when he tried to take a sip from it. “Isn’t he supposed to be my friend? Why is he so upset?” he asked Blaise.

“Theo’s known Y/N since they were both starting to talk. Their first words were probably each other's name.” Blaise stated matter of factly, arching one eyebrow, “And for the record, you did fucked up bad. You are an idiot.”

Draco glared at him, lowering his gaze with no words to defend himself.

“You’re our idiot of a friend.” Blaise said, cocking his head in the bathroom's direction, “Give him a couple of days to cool down, you’re our friend but Y/N is Y/N to him.”

“I know.” Draco muttered miserably, “He’s like a bloody guard dog, reckon he threaten me when I first asked Y/N out.” he said with a breathless chuckle, placing his glass down for the night, “Guess he’s not good at keeping promises.”

“Maybe not to you.” Blaise said, jumping to his bed as he closed his eyes, “But he is good at keeping his promises to Y/N.”

*******

You loved your friends. You really did, but after spending years with them every single day of the week you knew them like the back of your hand.

You could tell Pansy was actually interested in something when she leaned forward but didn’t hold her head in her hand or played with her hair.

You knew Blaise was a gossip, probably learning it from a young age from his mother, and he would always be in at least three conversations at the same time, he shifted his weight to the voice he felt the most interest, and he usually tapped his fingers against any surface when he was scanning the room for something worthy to listen to.

Daphne was notoriously the most caring of all of you, but as caring as she could be, everything needed balance and she didn’t have to use her words to let anyone know her opinion. You would never forget how she dragged the entire wardrobe of the boys before the Yule Ball in your fourth year with one single look.

So when you entered the Great Hall Sunday morning, immediately walking to the opposite side of the table you would normally do and saw the bright smile on Daphne’s face, you knew they knew.

“Shut it.” Daphne hissed, holding her smile as she held her arms open to you. Blaise had been talking when a sudden hit made him jump and lose all his words, making Pansy turn with a glare that instantly fell as she saw you arrive. “Come sit next to me, Y/N.” Daphne moved to her left, her side flushed against Pansy as she made the space for you. Her hands landed on your shoulders, holding you in place as she greeted you with a kiss on each cheek.

You gave her a soft smile, thankful to sit next to her as Pansy acknowledged you with a graceful nod. Her smile was not as bright as Daphne’s, if you could even call it a smile. Her lips were lifted at the corners but with the look on her eyes, you thought she looked like a villain.

“How did you sleep, darling?” Daphne asked you, placing a cup in front of you, immediately pouring you some tea.

“Fine,” you answered shortly, looking at her and over her shoulder to Pansy, “I woke up and you were gone, had something to do early in the morning?” you asked.

Pansy shrugged, taking the butter knife from her plate, “Just some catching up.” she answered flatly, taking the strawberry jam and spreading some on a piece of toast.

You nodded softly, narrowing your eyes as you turned to Blaise, calling his name. His eyes found yours, focusing on you. “You told them, didn’t you?”

“Told them what?” he asked, playing dumb.

You looked at him knowingly, holding his gaze for a few seconds before he sighed in defeat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Have them knock your door down at six in the morning on a Sunday and you’ll say anything, especially if it’s her doing the knocking.” he said, glaring in Pansy’s direction as she sarcastically smiled at him.

Daphne turned her body to you, brushing her hand along your cheek, “We lost you at the party last night. We got back late but when we saw you your face was all puffy, just like when you cry and we knew something had happened. So we went immediately to bother someone else and let you sleep instead, and who better to ask for answers than Blaise? I’m sorry we weren’t there, darling.”

“Not as sorry as Draco will be,” Pansy muttered, dropping the silver knife on her plate, “Who does he think he is anyway? Wait until he gets here, that cocky shit.”

“It’s fine,” you said to Daphne with a sad smile, “Theo found me and stayed with me after… well after everything.”

“What about me?” Theo’s voice rang as he dropped on the bench next to Blaise, nudging his side as a greeting as he took a moment to look at each of you in front of him, his eyes staying on you at last.

Daphne was about to say something, her body surging forward as you quickly cut in, “That you, Theodore Nott, are a great friend.” you said with a smile.

His fingers fumbled with the toast he was reaching for, a soft smile forming on his face as his eyes froze briefly on the food in front of him. He’s cheek felt warm, the smile only growing as he took a more secure hold on his breakfast. “Full name and all, huh?” he said slowly with a breathy chuckle.

Blaise discretely kicked Pansy under the table, his amused smile matching hers as she scoffed with a knowing look. Daphne gave them a warning look, keeping the conversation with her two oblivious friends.

However the mood shifted as soon as they all saw Draco enter the Great Hall. He looked as fresh as it was to be expected, not a sign that anything had happened to him, a confident stance and cool expression on his face. He neared your area of the table without second thought, missing or choosing to ignore the mix of feelings sent in his direction.

You limited yourself to press your lips together, eyes casted to the side as you started to talk to Daphne.

Draco was about to sit in the only free space right in front of you when Theo slid his body to the right, “Seat taken, mate.” he said, patting his previous seat, “Here, just for you.”

Draco stared at Theo for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he sat down silently. He didn’t acknowledge a thing, not one look directed at him, moving right into serving his breakfast like any other morning.

“Hey, Draco.” Pansy called, looking at her nails as she stretched her hand in the air, “How come you’ve never kissed me?” she asked, lifting her eyes from her hand.

“Pansy.” Daphne hissed, turning to her with a warning look.

Draco’s movement slowed as he heard the question, jaw clenching. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked flatly.

Pansy mockingly smiled, raising her eyebrows in Blaise’s direction as she leaned on her elbows, “I heard that’s how you treat all your friends. Just last night at the party with Liliana, at least that’s what she told us.”

You glanced at Pansy, the wink she sent in your direction as she felt your eyes on her enough to make you look away, seeing just from the corner of your eyes as Daphne sighed, covering her face with her hand.

“And who’s Liliana?” Draco asked, making you go wide eyed with your attention shifting to Theo sitting in front of you. For some reason, he looked as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Ouch,” Pansy said, “I don’t think she’s gonna like that. But stop avoiding the question, where are my kisses?” she asked, gasping dramatically shortly after, “Better yet, can I take classes sitting on your lap? That’s what good friends do.”

Draco looked up in annoyance, glaring at Pansy as her amusement fell from her face. “What did you tell them?” Draco asked Blaise, turning to him.

“Nothing they wouldn’t find out sooner or later.” he answered.

“What is it?” Pansy asked coldly, “You didn’t want us to find out? I bet you didn’t expect some of us to find out about it.”

Draco held her gaze with the same intensity, “Find out about what?” he asked, mirroring the tone of her voice, “Nothing happened.”

Your eyes snapped from Theo’s and the small conversation you two were keeping, all words gone from your mind as you stared at Draco for one second before you abruptly stood, leaving the table when you managed to blink your eyes away from his gaze.

Daphne called your name, stumbling as she tried to go after you and turning to Pansy and Draco, “See what you’ve done.” she muttered accusatively, “Y/N!” she called again.

“I’ll go.” Theo said, standing from the table as he looked at Pansy, “Give him hell.” he asked, looking down at Draco.

Pansy only smiled, putting her hands together in front of her face, “Gladly.”

Theo jogged out of the Great Hall, following the path he knew you took as if your steps had been burned on the stone floor of the castle and then outside on the grass. He rushed down the stairs, walking down the hills until he reached the tall tree, looking around as he was certain you’d be there. But taking only a couple more steps forward, walking past the tree and right to the shore of the lake where the grass turned to plain dirt that went into the water, there he found you. You sat down, chin resting over your bent knees.

And just like the previous night, Theo went to sit down next to you, not once minding the wet grass or the dirt that stain his trousers.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care.” you murmured, eyes casted in the distance, “He says things like nothing happened or goes around doing things like he did last night, as if he completely forgot he had a girlfriend.”

Theo sat facing your side, resting his weight on his hands just behind his back, looking at you with a willing ear and nothing but genuine care. He knew he needed to say nothing, not at the moment.

A bitter laugh surged from you, lifting your head to the sky for a second, “I know it’s not the first time this has happened,” you confessed, letting your subtle tears roll down freely without trying to push or hide them away. “I’ve heard the rumours plenty of times, but I chose to trust him when I first asked him about it, when he denied it all and told me I was the only one.” When your voice broke you paused, casting your eyes down to your hands hugging your legs, taking a shaky breath in, “It’s different to see it, though. To wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t seen him or if I had just left? Would it have been another rumour people would whisper behind my back and that I chose to ignore? Would I still have a boyfriend that at least acknowledged my presence? Someone who didn’t give up on us so easily?”

Theo pushed himself to sit properly, taking a more serious turn. “You deserve better.” he said, holding his arm out as a silent request. You moved closer to him, his arm wrapping you in a reassuring hold.

“You know what’s worse?” you asked softly, resting the back of your head against his arm. He knew you weren’t looking for an answer but for an outlet, turning his face to you. “I was happy.” you said with a sad smile, “I was happy with him, and it hurts to be wrong about someone. To think you were done looking for the one only to find you weren’t theirs. Not the only one.” you laughed sadly, the last of it coming out as a cry, “Merlin, I’ve met his bloody parents and they like me! Narcissa invited me to spend winter break with them this year. Lucius Malfoy approved of me, he greets me politely and with no scowl. Even that disturbing aunt of his complimented me once. Turns out he’s the one who doesn’t want me.”

“He does want you.” Theo assured you, even if his voice sounded hesitant.

You turned to Theo, finally breaking your gaze from the lake and looking at him with tears pooling and falling from your eyes. “But does he love me?” you asked, your sad smile falling as you bit the inside of your cheeks, shakily moving on his hold, “I know I did.” you cried, your soft cries turning more loud and evident.

Theo’s face fell completely. He didn’t have any words, not any that would offer some comfort to you. He couldn’t say he had ever heard Draco express something that hinted his love for you, he knew he cared, but did he love you? Theo had no answer. He could say Draco did and mend your broken heart for the time being, but what if he didn’t and he sent you to a loveless relationship? You had said you were happy and he supposed it should be all that mattered. It wasn’t all that mattered to him, he meant it when he said you deserved better, and being in a relationship where ignorance and turning a blind eye were key points was not enough to him for you to have. He could confirm what your worst fear was and say Draco didn’t love you, starting your healing by forcing you to face the hard truth. He had no right to speak what he didn’t know, especially in such a cruel way that would hurt you even more. Truth was he wished he knew what his friend felt for you so he could reassure you in any way, he wished to march to Draco and force him to confess if he ever loved you, to put a stop to your suffering so he never had to see you cry. In the end, Theo could do none of those things, so he did the only thing he had been able to do for you since the moment he first met you when you were just two kids with scraped knees in the garden of his house. He sheltered you with his arms from the outside world as you let yourself feel.

*******

“What’s going on with you?” Daphne asked you from her bed, her hands busy with Pansy’s hair as she only glanced at you for a fraction of a second.

“Nothing.” you answered with a side smile, holding the mirror for Pansy as she stared at her reflection and the working hands of the blonde girl behind her. Pansy grinned at your answer, raising both her eyebrows in your direction when you noticed the look on her face. You turned hesitantly back to Daphne, your eyes remaining on Pansy to the last second until the question left your lips, “Why do you ask?”

Daphne shrugged nonchalantly, reaching for the hairbrush to her left, “No reason.” she said, her eyes meeting Pansy’s through the mirror as Daphne shook her head.

“You seem happier lately.” Pansy said, raising her face to look at her chin when Daphne pushed her head back down, hands still working on her hair. “Maybe too happy.” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You frowned, lowering the mirror. “I can’t be happy now?” you asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Of course you can,” Daphne intervened, smiling as she placed a bobby pin on Pansy’s hair, “We were just wondering if maybe those smiles and early mornings to get ready have a name written on them.”

You shook your head, chuckling, “Early mornings? I wake up at the same time as you do.” you said.

Daphne rolled her eyes with her characteristic soft laugh, “We know, darling. But after three months of waking fifteen minutes before breakfast with only your sports clothing on because You have Quidditch training,” she mocked you, doing air quotes with her fingers.

“I do have training!” you argued with a high voice, pointing your hand at her.

“Yes.” Daphne shushed you, giving you a knowing look, “But recently you carry your Quidditch gear on a bag and get dressed up nicely, like you used to. You wake up now and don’t drag your feet or look like you came back from the dead. Merlin knows you only looked presentable because we took the liberty of making sure you did.”

“Rude.” you murmured, looking between them girls as they stared with expectant eyes. “There is no name to give, alright?” you established firmly. “You would know if there was.”

Pansy hummed, taking the mirror from your hands as she held it up in front of her face, motioning Daphne to change something on her hair, “So we are certain this has nothing to do with Mr. Thedore Nott?” she asked, putting on her best, most elegant voice as she said his name.

You almost spit your drink all over her, turning to the side as you started coughing. “Theo?” you asked with wide eyes as you turned back to them, getting a positive hum from them both. “No.” you said, shaking your head with pressed lips. When they each gave you a knowing look and equally bright grins, you dropped all your weight on the floor, “No?” you asked unsure, your mouth slowly opening, “Why? What do you know?”

“We’ve been very observant lately.” Pansy said, nodding at Daphne through the mirror as she placed it down. “You spend eight out of seven days of the week with him. He’s at the library? You’re there too. If you’re training you just need to look around the bleachers to find the boy. You say you’re cold, Theodore casually isn’t or says he has an extra sweater, which is a bloody lie. If he wants tea, you pour him a cup. You’re nowhere to be seen? Theodore knows where you are.” she listed, starting all excited until her patience slowly wore down, “Honestly love, you don’t need Trewlaney’s big ass glasses to see it.”

You stared at her, frozen in place for a second before you laughed nervously, taking a sip from your drink to refresh your dry throat. “We’re just friends.” you spoke inside your glass, smiling tightly as you took another big gulp of the drink, downing it in one go.

“You and I are friends.” Pansy chuckled, “I remember your birthday because I like a good party and it is an excuse for us to dress up more than normal, you know I’ll chop off heads for you just as I know you would give me the answers to any test we’re taking. But for Salazar Slytherin, I would never sit through a whole three hours of training just because you're my friend.”

“He does that for me,” you said, snapping your eyes at her, “You think he feels something for me?”

Pansy grinned, “So you’re in denial,” she said, making a face, “We’ll work on that then.”

“Denial? No!” you said with a groan.

“Just face it, darling.” Daphne said coming out of the bathroom in a baby blue dress and white boots, “You two have grown closer since the start of sixth year. Theo is not the type to get interested in someone he doesn’t really know. He likes his alone time and his space, why would he sacrifice that?”

“Because we are friends.” you argued, going to sit on your bed, hugging a pillow to your chest.

“You were friends before.” she said, going to sit next to you, “This is different.”

“How?” you whined miserably, “I just broke up with-”

Pansy gasped, turning on her spot as wore a smirk on her dark lips, “Theodore’s like an evil mastermind.”

The pieces started to fit inside your head. The rushing of your heart at seemingly random times, your cheeks getting warm at certain phrases or mentions that brought back specific memories, your mood being more cheerful lately, having more energy and motivation to just be.

Theo had not only helped you remain afloat during a rough time in your life, but he had replaced the rotten pieces of your heart with new ones, using his own pieces to mend yours.

“Think about it,” Daphne said, placing a kiss on your cheek, “You may not feel the same but he definitely feels something for you.”

“We’ll be back soon,” Pansy announced from the door, letting Daphne out, “Go have some fun while we’re gone.” she said with a wink.

You had planned to go and spend some time with Theo, now it didn’t seem like such a great idea.

*******

Your conversation with Pansy and Daphne had left nothing but a curious feeling inside you. For a moment you thought the conversation would change something in you, make you want to run and hide from Theo, avoid him at all cost to save you from the truth. That couldn’t be the case.

Theo had a pull on you that you couldn’t help even if you wanted to. You hadn’t felt like that in a long time and you wondered when it had come back. When did the face of that feeling change?

If anything, being in the presence of Theo became easier, you enjoyed it more and gave in to the subtle flirting with glee. You didn’t try to run from it and instead showed your interest openly, enjoying the reactions it provoqued on Theo as he too became aware of the change. Whether he had help or not, you didn’t care.

All was well again. Or at least you thought.

The library was a place of learning and silence. Given the space as such it also gave place for stares and secrets, making it the more notorious when it happened.

Liliana had left quite an impression on you, a bitter one to say the least, but you couldn’t put the blame on her. Since that night on the first weekend of September, you had learned to notice her presence in different places. She was a Gryffindor in your same year, sharing some classes and watching her in the choir on most evenings. Her voice had a distinct sound, giving you a headache for the first month every time you heard it, now only rising a slight annoyance you could tune out if you wanted. It was no different when she whispered, marking the source of her voice the minute it reached your ears only a couple of tables down the hall.

You didn’t mind, she had the right to be wherever she wanted, no amount of harm done to you allowed you to kick her out, even if you wished you could sometimes. You refused to be the one to leave just because she was there. So you stayed and ignored her, until your name was spoken in that annoying voice.

Your mind was immediately disconnected from the words in front of you, staring at the dark wood of the table with a blank image in your head as you focused on the words leaving her mouth.

“Johnny, a kid in my house, told me he heard some older students talking. He heard them say that Y/N, the one over there, made a show of Draco and me at that party at the beginning of the year just so she could have an excuse to break up with him.” The entire table broke into a fit of whispers, some getting louder than others, “Draco did nothing wrong, he was just trying to mend his broken heart because he found out they were cheating on him.”

“Do they know who they were cheating on with?” Another girl asked.

Liliana nodded, almost looking pained, “I think that’s the worst part,” she admitted, “They say it’s that friend of theirs, Theo Nott.”

You slammed your book shut, packing your things on your bag as you marched to their table, eyeing her up and down from where she sat. “You should really learn to be more discreet, sweets.” you murmured lowly, threateningly. “Who told you all that?”

“Maybe you should learn to stay out of other people's conversations.” she said in a mimic of your voice, “Or at least do it right. Didn’t you hear? A kid from my house told us,” she said, running her tongue over her teeth with a smile, “Me and a bunch of other people.”

You hummed, placing your palm flat on the table as you lowered your face to be eye to eye with her, smiling at the way she backed away immediately. You straightened your back slowly, staring down at her, “I can’t take you seriously when you’re shaking like a boiling cauldron.” you scoffed, turning on your place as you left the library.

You didn’t stop until you were down on the dungeons, making your way inside the Slytherin common room while breaking the spells preventing girls from walking to the boys dorms. No one even tried to stop you, too familiar with your presence there or seeing the determination set in your face. Your wand was held up surely, walking to the right door and knocking like a mad woman.

Blaise greeted you with a frown, holding the door so only his body was visible, “Y/N,” he announced, more to the people inside than to acknowledge you.

“Is Draco here?” you asked immediately, glaring at him as you heard shifting inside the room.

With a step forward, Blaise held the door closed behind him, “I don’t think he-”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” you said, looking at the door as you motioned him to move, sighing heavily as he didn’t budge, “Let me in, Blaise.”

“I don’t think he wants to see you.” Blaised warned, stepping aside as you walked past him. Looking around the room until you spotted him, sitting like a king on the armchair closest to the small chimney in their dorm.

You stared, glaring at him while letting the anger that had gathered from your walk to the library to where you stood now sit deep within you. He didn’t grace you with one glance, not even a side look as he passed the page on the book in his hands.

“Why did you do it?” you asked with a dead voice, staring at the unfaced side of his face.

“I’ve done a lot of things,” he murmured, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

You felt all the pain slowly making it back to the surface, the wound that had healed leaving a soft feeling scar that was itching you. “Nothing weighing on your conscience recently?” you asked.

He looked up, staring at the stone wall for a moment before he closed the book and placed it on the table in front of him. “Not really. Why? Are you looking for advice?”

He shut you up momentarily, your mouth slightly open, “So it was you.” you said in a low voice. “You started those rumours.”

He shook his head angrily, finally looking at you as he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction, “Those aren’t rumours.” he said firmly, “How long has that been going on?”

“You were always jealous of him.” you whispered in disbelief, a dirty kind of pain bubbling in your veins as you glared at him, “You can call me whatever you want, say all you can come up with and tell the entire school about it, but you will leave Theo out of it.”

“Of course you would defend him.” he scoffed.

“He does not deserve your anger.”

“You’re both equally guilty,” he said, eyeing you up and down, “Look at you now.”

“Guilty?” you asked angrily, head turning to the ceiling as you ran a head down your face, “Guil- And to think I felt ready to forgive you.” you said, turning your back on him and missing the way his jaw clenched, casting his eyes down to the low fire in the chimney. You turned sharply back to him, “What about being fucking selfish?” you asked him, looking for his eyes. You rounded the room, going to stand right in front of him, “You can’t see me move on and be happy, can you? My happiness is either with you or with no one else.”

He moved his eyes up, staring as you motioned your hand to your chest, looking at you before he focused over your shoulder, lifting his chin.

“Spread all the rumours you want.” you said harshly, “You know they’re not true and deep down it’ll eat you inside because you know I did nothing but love you, and you threw it away like it meant nothing.” One step forward, his grey eyes focused on yours again, void of anything as angry tears pooled on yours, your hardened look making him lose all words. “I bet you thought I wouldn’t move on. Well, I did. And now you’re going to watch as I build everything we could’ve had together with someone else.”

“With Theo?” he asked in a whisper, arching one eyebrow.

You looked down at his face, taking one step back to put some space between the two of you, “Yes, with Theo.” you said, ignoring the skip your heart missed as the words were spoken out loud by you, “At least I know he cares about me.”

He tilted his head, “You thought the same of me.”

Your lower lip trembled, stumbling back slowly as your face turned to the look of pure pain. “You’re an asshole.” you spat, “But I’d like to think you did at least care for me once.” you said, voice breaking in the end as you turned on your spot, opening the door wide as you slammed it behind you.

You turned sharply to the hall, a gasp leaving with your soul as your body clashed against another one. “Blaise,” you breathed out, as his hands settled you firmly on the ground, your eyes then falling to your opposite side. “Theo.” you whispered the name, both panic and relief washing over you.

He snapped his head up to look at you, his head that had been permanently looking to the steps beneath his feet now looking at you.

“We didn’t mean to listen.” Blaised excused the both of them, “Theo insisted on going inside and I felt like I needed to stop him.”

“It’s fine.” you said softly, eyes trained on Theo as Blaise walked back inside his dorm, placing a hand on your shoulder as he left.

Theo looked at you, “We really didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” he said, “I was in the common room when I saw you walk in.”

You blinked slowly, the gears turning inside your head as you nervously looked at him, “How much did you hear?” you asked.

He looked away, running his hand through his hair on the back of his head, “All of it.” he admitted apologetically.

“All of it?” you blurted out a little too loudly, making you both flinch as he took your hand, leading you down to a place that wasn’t the door of his dorm.

“Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as he fought his own smile. “Did you mean what you said there?” he asked, and you didn’t have to ask which part he referred to.

Your heart felt strongly against your chest, the heat of your cheeks spreading all over your face, as you lowered your eyes to the hold he kept on your hand. “Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

His smile instantly widened, a breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he turned to the side, “I’m sorry to say this right now but this is turning out to be the best day of my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, turning back to look at you.

“Mine's turning out better.” you said.

His eyes shone with a new found light, dancing between your eyes and your lips before he knew what he was doing. His hands went to cup your cheeks, pulling you flush against his chest as he crashed his lips against yours.

*******

10 years later

The bell to the small coffee shop rang softly all over the closed room, the chatter in different tables never ceasing, the people serving the tables never stopping, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the walls. Not one person turned to look at the tall man walking in, his entire demeanour out of place with the cream colored wallpaper and old looking drawings of flowers on it. He wore all black, making his skin look even paler against the heavy looking dark green scarf around his neck; his cheekbones were sunken but if you looked at him for more than one glance you could tell it was just the way his face was.

One of the girls serving the table noticed he remained still on the door, walking to him as soon as he got the order from the table she found herself at. “Hello, sir.” she said, getting his focus over her, immediately making her feel small, “Are you looking for a table?” she asked.

He shook his head, going back to scanning the place, “I’m meeting someone.” he told her in time to hear the callings of his name.

“Draco!” he heard, moving his head to the side to see Daphne waving at him from the back of the shop. The girl motioned for him to go first, following him until they reached the table.

She offered him a menu, one Pansy quickly returned, “One black coffee, love.” she said, “The man doesn’t know how to drink anything else.”

“Right away.” she said with a nod, leaving the table with a small skip to her feet.

“How are you, Draco?” Daphne asked, taking a bite from the cake in front of her.

“We saw each other last night.” Draco answered with frown, muttering a Thank you to the girl as she placed his coffee in front of him. “Not much happened during the night.”

Daphne just scoffed, turning with a glare at him, “One day I’m not gonna ask anything about you, and you’ll miss it. I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

“Don’t mind him, Daph.” Pansy muttered, running her finger through the frosting of her cupcake, “Draco didn’t learn his mother’s politeness and etiquette. He’s like a caveman when it comes to socialising.”

Draco turned to glare at Pansy, making her smile grow, “Where is Theo anyway?” he asked, turning to the door as Blaise walked in as well, walking straight to their table with a confident look.

Pansy shrugged, smiling at Blaise as he hugged Daphne, “We were the first ones here.”

“Have you seen this?” Blaise asked, placing the paper on the table as the pictures showed Ginny Weasley on the cover, “Y/N got to go see the Holy Harpies play and do an interview.” he tapped the picture, “She took it.”

They all leaned over the paper front page, reading quickly over the lines as at the end of the article all credits went to you.

“That bitch.” Pansy whispered, “I never doubted she could do it but she actually did it.”

Daphne turned to Pansy smiling as well, her cheeks hurting from it, “Our girl has her own successful newspaper.” she cheered.

The bell rang again, going unnoticed by all as they gushed all over your new success, your newspaper was popular among all ages and of interest to the wizarding world. You had managed all, mainly on your own, so you could now open a small office and hire some other reporters. It had been your dream since you graduated and now it is a reality.

“Oh, so you have seen it?” Theo asked with a smile as he rounded the table, placing a kiss on the girl's cheek, and then moving to pat Blaise and Draco on the back before he sat down, “Well, one thing less to say then.”

“And where is Y/N?” Draco asked, looking at the door hoping to see you walk inside.

“Yeah, where is your better half, Theodore?” Pansy whined, turning her head back as well with a pout, “I like her better.”

Theo smiled softly, looking down at his lap as he rearranged his chair to sit closer to the table. “She won’t be joining us today.” he said, looking around the table to confused looks.

“Theo, we love you, but from now on if you don’t bring Y/N with you you are no longer invited.” Daphne said with her hand on his shoulder.

“What-”

“Don’t listen to her, mate.” Blaise said, “I actually want to see my friend.”

The table turned to a debate, everyone shouting their own arguments about how they preferred you over Theo, and how Theo had managed to steal you from all of them seeing how it wasn’t fair he got you all to himself. As much as Theo enjoyed the little chaos created at the table, he had the time ticking against him.

“I’m asking Y/N to marry me.” he shouted, managing the table to fall to a complete silence, all heads turned to him with their words stuck to their tongues.

“What?” Draco asked in a whisper.

Theo turned to his friend with a smile, a soft chuckle coming out of his lips, “I’m asking Y/N to marry me.” he repeated.

The table burst out in cheers, Daphne throwing his arms around Pansy as she laughed in glee. Blaise congratulated Theo, standing to hug him as Theo gladly took him in his embrace.

It was only Draco who remained seated, not a clap not a cheer out of him as he stared at his friends in a cold shock. He felt as if all sound around him went away, the feeling numbing but still he was there, present. He could see Daphne bursting into tears of joy as she stood to hug Theo, see Pansy and Blaise hugging as well. He could not move.

“You alright, mate?” Theo asked, putting his hand over the blond shoulder.

Draco blinked, swallowing hard as he stood from his chair and opened his arms for Theo, “I’m really happy for you.” he breathed out.

Theo hugged him, tighter than the other, “Thanks, Draco.” he said to him and him only. “It really means a lot.”

Draco limited himself to hum, hoping Theo could not feel the shake of his hands on his back.

*******

“Honey, I’m home!” you sang as soon as you kicked the door to your flat open, barely making it inside as you carried all your bags and coats on your arms. The door closed behind you with a soft click and no answer came back from the inside. “Theo?” you called again, placing your keys and bags on the table by the entrance.

When you walked to the living room you gasped, covering your mouth with both hands, “Merlin’s beard,” you whispered, “You dress up nicely, Nott.” you complimented as he sat on the armchair facing the entrance.

“Thank you.” he said, standing as he turned you in your place, “So do you, we do it greatly. Enough reason for you to take a shower while I bring you some clothes and things you need.”

You let him push you around the flat, leading you to your bathroom. “Did you buy me some new clothes?” you asked teasingly.

“Uh- nope.” he admitted, placing a kiss on your cheek as he handed you your towel, “But you’ll get to wear something nice you have been wanting to put on for a long time. Then, and only then, you’ll get your surprise.”

“Surprise?” you asked, suddenly aware that he was being serious, “What surprise?”

“You didn’t think I'd miss your big interview with Ginny Weasley, did you?” he said while pecking your lips, blocking the door with both arms extended to the sides of the doorframe, “But you’ll see, love.”

You looked suspiciously at him, a small smile on your lips, “Fine.” you agreed, “Better choose something nice, otherwise I’ll change.”

“I promise it is nice.” he shouted behind the door, leaving you with a growing smile on your face.

*******

“Theo, is not funny to apparate with your eyes bandaged.” you whined, but then you felt the air hit your face softly, the sound of the city surrounding you in a lovely manner, not noisy or annoying, just alive. “Theo?” you called.

“Keep them covered!” he said, never feeling when he had left your side and ran off into the distance. But then his distinct warmth was next to you, the feeling of his chest against your back familiar, “Ready?” he asked in a whisper.

You chuckled nervously, nodding your head. “What are you doing?” you laughed, the scarf tied around your eyes coming off as soft lighting made it to your eyes, the blurring of having your eyes covered fading as you blinked.

It looked like a piece of paradise had made it down to earth and you were in it. “It’s beautiful.” you said in a whisper, walking slowly around the rooftop you found yourself in. The edges of the building were covered with small plants and vines that grew down the building, the natural plants kept there offering colour in shades of red and white, with some of the petals from the flowers thrown on the stone floor. On a small table on the far end across from you were lit thousands of candles, lighting the space warmly and welcoming.

“All this because of the interview?” you asked, turning to him with your hand outstretched to him.

“It is a massive achievement and I’m so proud of you for it.” he said, taking your hand in his, “Truth be told, I’m hoping we can celebrate two things tonight.” He took your free hand, placing it on your shoulder as his other hand went to your waist.

“What’s the other thing?” you asked, placing your chin over his shoulder.

“You’ll see,” he whispered in your ear, swaying you softly. “Do you know what happened on this day ten years ago?” he asked.

You thought about it, doing the maths in your head as a low chuckle escaped you, “We were back at Hogwarts, so probably some mischief.”

He chuckled at that, nodding his head, “Something like that.” he offered, “Ten years ago today I kissed you for the first time.”

You drew your head back, looking at him in surprise, “Really?” you asked.

“Really,” he confirmed, letting go of you as his hands went to cup your cheeks, “Just like this.” he murmured, connecting your lips in a soft kiss, slowly melting against one another. He touched your forehead with his, eyes opening to stare into your shiny ones.

“Each day to your side has been a gift I don’t deserve, but you made me feel worthy of it, of you. Every night I ask the sky what I did to be here with you and every night I go to sleep with no answer. I’ve finally found my answer, and it’s you. You are the answer to every question, every fear or joy. Because I did right by you, I’m happy and you’re there, even I get scared and you’re always there. I’m scared, I’m scared that one day our time will be over because these ten years have gone by in the blink of an eye and I’m not ready for it to be over, nor will I ever be. So, if you’ll have me, I’d like for us to be eternal.”

He held your hands at arm reach, taking a shaky breath as he kissed your knuckles and let go of your hands. Reaching inside his pocket as he pulled out a small dark green velvet box.

“Theo.” you whispered shakily, watching as he gave you a small smile as he looked up at you on one knee.

“Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, have me for the rest of your days as your husband?”

You broke into a joyous sob, nodding your head eagerly, “Yes.”

With a teary smile, he took the ring from the box, sliding it into your left ring finger as he stood up again. You jumped to his arms as soon as the ring was on your finger, placing a thousand kisses on his face until you finally landed on his lips.

Like a crashing wave, the door to the rooftop burst open, loud cheering and fireworks shooting from wands lighting the sky as all your friends step out from their hiding place.

Draco watched as you gazed at Theo with unbreaking joy. No one else existed but the man you held in your arms, not even the one who longingly stared at you from the side.

*******

Narcissa Malfoy walked through her home with confidence and peace like no other. Her shiny heels clicked against her marble floors as she made it to the main entrance of the Malfoy Manor. She stood like the proud face of the Malfoy family and with deserving rights. Lucius had fallen in the minds of the wizarding community since he spent time in Azkaban and Draco was just a young soul, not one fitting to face society in their name.

However, as she stood at the entrance of her living room with a soft smile, all pride vanished from her face as she saw the state of her son.

“Merlin,” she muttered, walking inside and taking the glass from his hand as she placed it out of reach, “Your aunt Andromeda will be here any minute now and look at you, Draco. Have some self respect and change into fresh clothing, brush your hair and for my sake, stop drinking.” she ordered kindly yet firmly.

He looked up at her, standing from his seat, “I’ll be in the study.” He excused himself, moving to the hall when his mother called again.

“No, you will not.” she said, “Sit.” she ordered, sitting herself on the arm rest of the sofa, “I’m not wrong to say Y/N and Theodore’s engagement has you in such a mood.”

He glanced at her with tired eyes, not agreeing nor denying her words. “Honestly Draco, I thought you had come to accept the situation as it is.”

“And how is that?” he asked hoarsely.

“You made a mistake when you were young, mistakes that hurt Y/N and pushed her from you and right into Theodore’s arms. Your attempts to fix your mistakes were useless. What makes you think annoying a girl will make her come back to you? Just like your father, really.”

“Are you saying this is my fault?” he asked.

“It is your fault, Draco.” she said firmly, “You must own your mistakes and the consequences just like we have done all our lives. If you care for her and Theo, because he is your friend, you will support them as such.”

He pondered over his mother’s words, twisting the ring on his right hand, “What if I don’t want to be the bigger person?” he asked, fearing the answer but not enough not to ask and know the inevitable result of his future actions.

“Then you lose her, forever.” she stated, standing from her seat, “Now, pull yourself together.”

*******

If Draco Malfoy didn’t believe in any higher being, he started to believe in one the moment the doors opened to reveal you behind them.

You carried a glow to yourself, like suddenly paradise had decided to take a human form and you had appeared on this earth, right in that moment in the same place he stood now. Dressed in all white, your face broke into the definition of happiness when you saw him, nudging Blaise to get him to start walking you down the aisle. Blaise chuckled, leading you in his direction as the room full of people you chose to share this day with stodd from their seats. The violins started to play heavenly on the back, the echo in the old building only giving it a more dramatic feeling as it flowed in between the fabrics of your clothes. If music had a physical form it would dance around you, following you close and delicately in flickers of silver and gold. Yet nothing would move your eyes from the one you longed for, the one you assured was your soulmate.

Blaise helped you up the small step, holding your hand in his as he placed a chaste kiss on your knuckles, turning with a firm nod as he delivered your hand to him.

See, Draco Malfoy started to believe in a higher being right there and then because no other could be so cruel.

Who else could be so cruel to assure him a place one step from where he wished he could be? Draco had been given a front line entry to farewell the one he loved. He had a clear view of you for the ceremony, looking over Theo’s shoulder as he had done for the past ten years. Nothing broke him more than knowing he had looked at you the entire time and you had not looked at him once.

The cracks in his heart cut deeper as you swore your love for Theo before everyone you held dear to your heart, how you retold your and Theo’s story with tears in your eyes and soft laughs. His own eyes burned as he cursed himself for wishing it was your story you told with deep emotion in front of the world, for wishing it was his hand the one that wiped the fallen tears from your cheeks.

He wished he had the courage to step in and tell you Theo could never love you like he did.

When he woke up from his daydream it was too late. Everyone in the room stood cheering as the newly wed couple sealed their union with a kiss.

He realised too late he didn’t clap nor smiled, something he did not regret. He didn’t feel like doing those things.

Now, with the moon starting to truly shine in the sky, the party and the wizard and witches there were full of life. The time for the guests to dance with each part of the new couple had arrived, and the line was dearly long. However, Draco planned to keep you up to your word, having the first dance after the groom.

He strode along the dance floor, the soft candle light reminiscent of Hogwarts above you, showing his shadow as he stood beside you. “May I?” he asked, offering his hand at you as he looked at Theo.

Theo smiled softly, placing a quick kiss to your lips as he placed your hand in Draco’s. “Sure thing, mate.” he said, turning on his heel. “Has anyone seen Blaise?” he called, opening his arms as your taller friend ran into the dance floor.

You gazed at them with a smile, finally turning completely to Draco as you swayed close to him. It was a comfortable silence you had fallen into, your head rested against his as you closed your eyes, only his voice bringing you back.

“You look beautiful.” he said softly.

“Thank you.” you answered in a soft sigh, “You look very handsome yourself.” you told him, moving slightly back from his hold to get a look of him, taking him in. “Tell me, who’s the lucky one you brought as your date?” you asked.

He smiled, the action actually filling his face with emotion, “I didn’t bring a date.” he said.

“What?” you gasped incredulously.

He shrugged softly, “Didn’t feel right.” he murmured, moving his eyes away from you for a second.

You chuckled, tapping his chest with your hand to bring his attention to you. “What do you mean it didn’t feel right?” you asked with a smile, “You came here to hunt for my single friends, didn’t you?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows as you turned around, “Well, there’s Daphne’s sis- No! Wait, there with the dark hair? That’s Rob-”

“Y/N,” he called in a low voice, making you look in his direction with a frown at his sudden change.

He saw your face, pictured your voice, your reaction at what he had to say.

“Just listen to me, please.” he would’ve asked, “I know I screwed up and that I hurt you, but I never stopped loving you. I thought I could- fuck it, maybe I can, but I don’t even want to try. Theo is all that’s good for you and I’m happy for you two. But he’s not me, you’re not us. Not what we used to be. I’m sorry if saying this is selfish but I can’t keep it to myself. I’m not going to try and ruin what you have but I want you to know I will always be there for you. If something happens, I’ll be there to catch you.”

He said none of those things. He didn’t want to.

“I brought my mum.” he said with the arch of his eyebrow, pointing his head to his side as you saw the characteristic black and white haired woman, holding a glass in her hand.

You awed slowly, turning to him with a soft look, “You brought your mum,” you repeated, tilting your head to the side, “Wait, I invited your mum.”

“You did?” he asked with surprise.

“Of course.” you told him slightly offended, “She is very important to me.”

He frowned, giving her a glance, “She said nothing to me.” he murmured. His attention shifted abruptly as Pansy strode her way to them.

“I owe my best girl a dance.” she said, popping her hip to the side as she stared Draco up and down.

“If you ask nicely.” Draco said, turning your back to Pansy.

“Move away, Draco.” she said, standing taller with her chin up.

He shook his head, turning to you with a peaceful look, letting go of your hands as he engulfed you in his arms. “I’m so happy for you.” he whispered, making you hold him tighter.

“Thank you.” you whispered, moving back as you placed your hand on the side of his arms, “Dance with someone?” you asked, putting on your best pleading look.

He scrunched up his nose, “Maybe another night.”

You sighed, letting go of him with a more hopeful look on your face that quickly turned to a break of giggles as Pansy practically threw herself to you.

Draco couldn’t help himself and chuckled, hearing the loud laughter of his friends behind his back as walked to stand to the side of the dance floor, seeing as Theo still had to let go and dance with someone other than Blaise.

“She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” Someone asked to his side, probably catching him staring for a little too long in your direction.

He nodded, “Yes, she does.” With curiosity, he turned to his side to see the person beside him, finding dark hair in a high- too perfect- ponytail.

“I’ve never met her before tonight, but she looks like she could light up an entire room.” she noted with a kind smile, taking a sip from her tall glass.

“She can.” he confirmed, taking a glass himself from the tray of a passing waiter.

“You know her?” she asked curiously, turning finally to him, her smile falling for a brief second before it went back to normal.

Draco chuckled, “I’m one of her best friends, Theo’s best man too.” he shared, even if it was common knowledge.

She nodded happily, “Sorry, I don’t know anyone here except my sister and her girlfriend.” she said, pointing her hand into the crowd to probably show him her sister, he could not place her.

He changed his glas from hand to another, offering his now free one to her, “Draco Malfoy.” he introduced himself.

She raised her eyebrows in his direction, considering his hand before she slowly took it in a firm shake, “Astoria Greengrass.”

[parkerflix]

i wanna hold your hand | l.dh

PART II OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION a would you be so kind? side-story written for the when you love someone collaboration hosted by @jaxminskale

✿SYNOPSIS. All the times Lee Donghyuck held your hand and the one time he didn’t.

✿PAIRING. lee donghyuck x (f) florist!reader x mark lee ✿GENRE. hanahaki!au, high school!au, best friend!au, flower shop!au, fluff, angst ✿WORD COUNT. 19.2k+

✿WARNINGS. hanahaki disease, vomiting, hospital visits, blood, mentions of death (no character deaths!), language, religious/Christian references, mentions of sexual thoughts (no smut!) PLEASE READ WOULD YOU BE SO KIND? BEFORE CONTINUING ON! Many scenes are scenes from in the fic written in Haechan’s POV.

Keep reading

[parkerflix]

would you be so kind? | mk.l

PART I OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

✿ SYNOPSIS — It was ironic, really, how you had a love and hate relationship with flowers. Growing up as a florist’s daughter, your love and admiration for the language of flowers flourished at a young age. Your thoughts, however, changed when you were diagnosed with the sickness that killed with one of the things you loved the most.

You weren’t sure what hurt more, though - the hammering agony your heart experienced every single time Mark looked at her so lovingly or the excruciating pain your lungs suffered through whenever you remembered your best friend loved her and not you.

✿ PAIRING — female!reader x best friend!mark lee ✿ GENRE — high school!au, friends to lovers!au, flower shop!au, slow burn, teen romance, fluff, angst, comedy ✿ WARNINGS — cursing, mentions of character death, hanahaki disease, vomiting, fainting, mentions of blood, hospital scenes, mentions of surgery  ✿ WORD COUNT —17k+

✿ listen to the PLAYLIST here!

✿ DISCLAIMER — This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

✿ TAGLIST — @marksrainbow @euphoricdreamies @shiningjaehyun @monsterz38339 @k-pop-is-everything​✨

✿ AUTHOR’S NOTE — Here it is, my sweets: my new prized possession! I wrote this in a week, can you believe it? I honestly can’t but I had such a vivid picture painted in my mind, I couldn’t stop. A big thank you to @ppangjae​ for bouncing ideas with me! Another thank you to Kira for reading and giving me feedback after I sent her every fucking scene — you are a lifesaver. And to Carol, my dear sweet cuzzo, this is for you~ *shoots b-ball and misses terribly*

I need to give credit to where credit is due so here we go; I was heavily inspired by a number of prompts found here! I feel like listening to the playlist will help set the mood as well, the link is listed above!!

Please, please, please let me know what you think of this! It’s my new baby and I would ✨ L O V E ✨feedback! Comment below, slide into my DMs, leave me an ask! I love talking to y’all 💖

I have a question,  It might seem strange — How are your lungs? Are they in pain? ‘Cause mine are aching, Think I know why, I kinda like it though, You wanna try?

Keep reading

[parkerflix]

number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show. 

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent. 

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself. 

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over. 

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant. 

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny. 

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later. 

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent. 

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister. 

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh. 

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that. 

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent. 

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.” 

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider. 

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste. 

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches. 

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people? 

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time. 

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers. 

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye. 

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks. 

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip. 

A second of silence. 

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout. 

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls. 

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize. 

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra. 

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between. 

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood. 

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything. 

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…” 

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers. 

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her. 

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.” 

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head. 

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens. 

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to. 

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly. 

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage. 

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you. 

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers. 

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime. 

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant. 

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys. 

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men. 

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

[parkerflix]

PARIS!!! 🫶🏻😽

DENI!!! hi love <3333 i hope you’re doing well!!! imysm!!!