#[drabble]

[narnian-neverlander]

Jason Todd with eyes that have been different ever since he came back.

Jason Todd with eyes that are haunting. People have trouble keeping eye contact with him, cause it’s not just the color, a few shades too bright to still be considered a natural green, there’s something off about his eyes. An uncanny valley effect; the longer they look the more they realize that something’s not quite the way it’s supposed to be, that something’s wrong. Eyes that have seen things no human should, eyes that should no longer be walking the mortal plane.

Jason Todd with eyes that literally glow when he feels any emotion strongly enough; the stronger the emotion, the brighter his eyes. And the first time it happens, during an argument with his family that turns nasty and bitter, he doesn’t even know it. Doesn’t know why his siblings all of a sudden look at him like they just got confirmation that he is the monster they all think him to be. He rarely takes off the helmet around them after that.

And then there’s you.

You, who still looks at him the same way you did before the pit, because you don’t care if he came back different, if he came back slightly wrong, because he came back. He came back to you and that’s all that matters.

You, who consistently comes up with new things to compare his eyes to and he truly doesn’t know how the hell you haven’t run out yet. Last week, it was the way sunlight filters through a trees’ leaves in the summer. Yesterday, it was the little plants growing out of cracks in the concrete jungle that is Gotham, resilient and determined despite all odds. Today, you’d simply reminded him that green is the color of spring, of renewal, of hope - the same hope he brings to the little people of Gotham. Tomorrow? He’s sure you’ll come up with something.

You, who regularly stares at him with the most lovesick grin and the softest eyes, to the point where he has to tell you to cut it out, cause you can’t possibly like what you’re looking at that much, only to be told that ‘art should be appreciated.’ His eyes glow then, too, but he doesn’t feel the need to hide. Not when you look at him with nothing but awe and affection in moments like that.

You, who causes him a freaking heart attack when you start bawling the first time he tells you he loves you because, unbeknownst to him, his eyes have never glowed brighter.

[promptlymasquerading]

There's a person who lives at the edge of town. The village children tend to avoid the old rotting cottage resting just behind the forest line. The royal guard does not patrol the area in a 30ft radius. The royal tax collectors do not request gold from the figure that lives in the cottage.

I wasn't always an outcast, a person held in fear and distrust. I used to be a grand healer, revered by the guards and nobles alike. Today, I forage in the forests I have claimed as my own. Wildlife are gentle and kind to me. They, like humans, can sense my differences, yet they hold no fear for me. Each day, I leave the cottage as the sun rises and gather water from a nearby creek. The water bubbles and gurgles over smooth river stones I have carved runes in.

Today, I gather my water in an old wooden bucket beside a young buck lapping up his fill. His horns are almost as tall as his ears, which flick as I kneel beside him. I mutter a greeting in a language I am not familiar with, and the buck grunts in response. Further down the creek, I see a doe, his mother, nosing through a blackberry bush.

Once full, I pick up my bucket and give the family a nod before leaving. There is a small path I have paved myself that leads to my cottage. The path is made of bare soil and twigs. Lining the path are large patches of clover and moss with small wildflowers poking up through the greenery. The wind changes course and brushes through the groundcover, kicking up small leaves and petals that have already fallen from nearby plants.

Usually, I would have continued on my way, but the sound of a loud snort and stomping of hooves draw my attention. I slowly set down my bucket and look around warily. While it is unusual for predators, such as a wolf, to come close to my cottage, it isn't impossible. Either way, I would rather not be caught unaware, regardless of my history on the front lines.

The sound of a stick snapping from my right forces another snort from the doe. The buck, with one last look towards me, hurries towards his mother and the two dart off.

I draw my dagger from a sheath attached to my thigh. Carved onto the handle are more runes, though leather strips partially cover them. I scan the area to my right, looking through the underbrush for yellow eyes or grey fur.

Instead, I see a flash of gold hair and stormy blue eyes. My own eyes narrow, and I crouch down, hoping to lessen my target. Slowly, the brush is pushed to the side, and a young girl steps out holding a bow much too big for her. What was a noble girl doing so far from the kingdom's capital.

The girl's eyes flash dangerously, and she stands taller, almost defiantly, before tucking a long strand of gold hair behind her ear. My eyes focus on her hand, dark blue with strands of gold swirling through its depths.

I open my mouth, but once more that unfamiliar language scratches up from my throat. My mouth thins in frustration and I slowly raise my hands.

The girl re-knocks her arrow and points it at me. "What language are you speaking? It doesn't sound like Demonic."

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.

[peachesvault]

Workplace Harrasment

Annoying Katsuki on the clock 👅 Yapper x listener duo my beloved

A/n: very quickly thrown together Bcs I need dopamine notifs to get thru tmrw pls

Guess he does have purple underwear huh?

© 2025 @Peachesvault - All rights reserved. Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. || Masterlist

[halfway-happyyy]

thinking about frank's big doe eyes omgg. i just know he'd look so at peace sucking his girl's tits, the look up at her as if she's a goddess, can't believe he gets to do this and make her feel good too. need to run my hands through his hair and rub his cheek and stare at him while he relaxes. like it's not a want but a need omg</3

wait, wait, wait, why is this hitting me right in the kink button? 😵‍💫

it's the image of frank - the punisher - allowing himself to feel secure, and comforted by you in the most intimate of ways; the sheer intimacy of it can only really be replicated through cockwarming.

now, frank usually drifted off to sleep with his big warm, mitt gently caressing your breast, so when he mumbled one evening that he'd like to try something, you didn't bat an eye.

you were sitting up in bed, reading a novel, when he moved to rest his head in your lap. he looked worn out; you could see it in the deepened creases next to his eyes and in the violet shadows underneath them. his umber hair was growing long, and you brushed it out of his eyes before peering down at him.

"you okay, frankie?"

he didn't answer, but his fingers found the hem of your t shirt, and gently began to push it up, exposing your warm skin to the cool bedroom air. he turned his head slightly to press sloppy kisses to your stomach, and continued to lift your shirt up until the cool air kissed the rounded curves of your breasts.

"can I, baby?"

as if there were ever anything in the world you'd deny him of.

"yes, frank."

he had tilted his head up and sucked a nipple into his mouth, while his other hand gently massaged your free breast. the image of him like that - suckling on you, eyes closing of their own volition because he was just so at peace - was enough to get you off then and there.

it's the closest he ever gets to being in a submissive headspace.

on some nights - when he gets home late - sore and bloodied, and utterly worn out from the day, he doesn't even have to ask. he finds his way to you in the darkness, lays down in your lap, shucks your shirt up (if you're wearing one), and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

it's the glassy, blissed out look in his eyes while he's doing it, and the little groans that sound in the hollow of his throat, that really get you. it's how needy his hand is on your other breast, how sometimes it gets him so hard that he has no choice but to grind, and rock against the pillow between his legs.

"'sat feel good, frankie?" you whisper, while running your fingertips along his scalp - all of it has the man nearly whimpering.

sometimes it ends in the best sex of your life, but most of the time you're just content to offer him a shred of comfort, a shred of security in a world that has been inexplicably vicious to him for the most part.

"i've got you, frank. take what you need."

[cosmoszyn]

eighth year | caleb.

caleb x nonmc! reader

tags: angst, drabble, hurt no comfort, unrequited love

part two of the drabble 'seven years'. please do read to have an additional context first!

"i love you."

"caleb, stop. you're drunk."

"no, i really do."

"weren't you just rejected by mc?"

your question was met with silence as the man standing across you sluggishly leans on the doorframe to your kitchen, darting his eyes elsewhere but yours. and despite the silence in the midst of his intoxicated confession, you could hear the vivid sound of his heart shattering to pieces.

you sigh.

"come on, let's get you to the couch," you say taking a few steps forward as you find him slowly sinking to his knees to your kitchen tiles and laying there in a fetal position.

"don' wanna," he slurs, curling himself further.

"stop being difficult," you groan, kneeling and reaching out to his shoulder.

caleb swats your hand away with a frown and half-lidded eyes, "not until you explain why you stopped talkin' to me t-these days," he demands. "how could you throw away seven years of our friendship like that?" he continued.

you clicked your tongue, returning your hands to his shoulder to get him to lay supine across the floor, "i didn't have a choice, caleb. you know that."

you receive a grumble from him in response, turning his body away from you, "you're bein' s-selfish..." he drawls.

you retreat your hand from his shoulder, looking at him owlishly with furrowed brows and mouth slightly agape.

"what did you just say?" you mutter.

caleb opens his left eye and pulls himself up, sitting across you, his body slightly swaying from the alcohol.

"you're bein' selfish," he repeats, with more conviction.

"get out."

"wha--?"

"don't make me repeat myself," you reply, standing from the freezing tiles of your kitchen floor.

and in the following minute, you watch caleb blink at you slowly, lips parting and tightening into a thin line before wearily pushing himself up and stumbling across your door. you continue observing him with watery eyes as he struggles to get himself out your apartment.

"'ya know..." he mumbles under his breath, followed by a hiccup, "we met eight years ago today."

with his slurred words and a slammed door in your empty apartment, you end up curling to yourself in the harsh kitchen floor.

author's note: ya'll wanted a part 2, then here u go. a more angsty part 2 LOL. this is highly inspired by memories by conan gray :P

[em1i2a3]

All The Small Things

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Serum Enhanced!Fem!Reader!

Warnings: No warnings, just pure fluff, we have an established relationship already going between Bucky and Reader, there’s also an age gap (it’s referenced kind of but it’s not specified)

Author's Note: As I’m finishing up all my big bois (my 20,000+ word posts) I thought I’d continue contributing to the fluffiness of Bucky Barnes. I got to see Thunderbolts last night and I’m literally going again today. Such a freakin banger of a movie, loved it and I’m excited to keep writing with all the ideas I got!! Hope y'all enjoy this one tho :)

The second you stepped into the apartment you knew that Bucky hadn’t left his office all day.

It was easy to connect the dots.

The place was quiet, not just from the absence of sound but from the absence of life. It was as if you were home alone, even though you knew that wasn’t the case at all. There wasn’t any soft music playing from the Bluetooth speaker Bucky always forgot to turn off, no low humming of the kettle, not even the smell of a fresh pot of coffee, it was just pure stillness.

Sam had messaged you an hour and a half ago to tell you he would be out for the night and that he fed Alpine, and that had told you everything you needed as he would never do that unless Bucky was too tied up to do it himself.

You slowly closed the door behind you and dropped your bag to the ground with a soft thump, and like clockwork, you heard the little taps of nails against the wooden floor.

Alpine bolted down the hallway like a snow-dusted rocket, skittering towards you like she had a fire lit under her tail. You smiled, opening up your arms to her so she could jump up into the space with a quick hop. Her heavy purr immediately clouded your senses, as her paws pressed into your chest.

“Hi baby girl…” You laughed, scratching behind her ears, “Sam told me you’ve been wreaking havoc around the place but it sure doesn’t seem like that to me hmm?” She chirped proudly, nudging her face against yours, her little pink nose wetting your skin. You kissed the top of her head proudly.

”Did you miss me, or are you bribing me with love so I will give you a second dinner?” You asked jokingly, running your hand down her spine, until Alpine meowed again.

”That’s what I thought.” You lowered her gently to the floor and gave a final affectionate pat, “No second dinner, but I’m going to need you to make sure your father hasn’t turned into furniture, please, cause I don’t hear that stupid keyboard.” She trotted away from you, with her tail flicking behind her, taking your orders loud and clear.

You let out a small sigh and straightened up, cracking your back in the process before brushing off some of the stark white fur Alpine left clinging to your jacket. You padded quietly toward the kitchen, your fingers already tugging at your sleeves before shrugging the fabric off your shoulders.

The kitchen was your area of solitude after arriving home from work, it was where you found peace, and it eased your mind after stressing all day. Of course, it wasn’t just because one of your hobbies was cooking, it was also the thing that brought you and Bucky together after living your own lives for the day, and it always made you look forward to coming home.

You draped your jacket over the back of one of the island stools, smoothing it down absentmindedly before heading towards the large fridge. The big stainless steel doors still gleamed like they were new, even though they were riddled with fridge magnets, grocery lists, and little nose prints from Alpine. There were word magnets spelling out obscure messages, some of them reading like broken up haiku’s, mostly from Bucky rearranging them mindlessly while waiting for coffee. Your brows furrowed at the latest one.

“I married a traffic cone–our kids are just wet noodles.” You whispered under your breath, before smirking and shaking your head. You reached out and opened the door slowly, a soft chill spilling out onto your face as the ice cold light flickered on, nearly blinding you.

Your eyes scanned the semi-organized shelves, trying to get ideas on what to make for dinner.

Top Shelf: Oat, Almond, and Regular milk because everyone in the house had their own preferences, an aggressively large bottle of sriracha that had somehow survived three moves, and two glass meal prep containers Sam left–each with exactly one bite left inside of them.

Middle Shelf: Three eggs, a quarter block of sharp cheddar, a large block of mozzarella, an open jar of sweet pickles, half a lemon wrapped in wax paper, and a head of lettuce that had seen better days.

You let out a soft sigh, tapping idly against the door, scanning lower.

Bottom Drawer: A sealed pack of tortillas, a loaf of sourdough bread, one lonely stick of butter, and two green apples–crisp, bright, and firm to the touch when you reached in and picked one up.

“Guess we’re gonna do something simple tonight.” You murmured.

Grilled cheese, apple slices, and maybe a bowl of kettle chips that you stashed away in the back of the pantry, if they weren’t gone at least. Bucky rarely admitted to late-night snacking, but with the loud crunch of those chips it was pretty easy to know when he was sneaking around.

You placed the apples gently on the counter, before grabbing the cheese from the middle shelf and collecting the loaf of bread and butter from the bottom drawer, heading back to the counter with full arms, nudging the fridge closed with your hip.

You laid everything out in front of you, and commenced your routine. You sliced, arranged and layered cheese between the sourdough bread, buttering both sides of the sandwich before prepping the frying pan, letting it slowly heat up as you washed both apples in the sink beside the stove–surprised that Sam actually washed his dishes.

You let the apples rest on a clean towel and turned your attention back to the pan, letting your hands move on pure instinct. You threw a piece of butter in, hearing the loud sizzling, as you reached for one of the prepared sandwiches and pressed it into the heat. The familiar scent of butter and crisping bread instantly curled through the kitchen, while you reached for a spatula in one of the drawers to make the toasting even.

You moved with ease, but your thoughts, as always when cooking for Bucky, were heavier, like a thick drip of molasses. The memories always arrived when it came to this ritual, and it always gave you a pang in your heart.

Bucky never talked about his relationship with food much, not directly at least, but over time you were able to piece most things together. He had his tells. The way his fork sometimes hovered over a plate for too long, like he was waiting for permission to eat it even though he didn’t. Or the way he picked apart meals that were unfamiliar to him, dismantling them until they were mush. Or the way he never said no, even when you knew something didn’t sit right with him–because he had a fear of disappointing you.

The first year with him was difficult. He’d spent so long eating only what HYDRA allowed–processed, bland, gloop as you liked to call it–that he completely forgot how real nutrition tasted. To them it was enough to fuel the machine but never the man. He once told you, in the dead of night with your legs tangled and his breath warm against your bare shoulder that everything tasted like glue, or pencil shavings, or just static, and it stayed with you.

Once you got him over the hurdle of simple variety it opened plenty of doors. You made him every version of a sandwich you could think of. Ham and cheese, turkey and greens, BLTs with crisped bacon and soft tomato. Some days he could handle a little mayonnaise, a hint of onion, maybe pickles, others just butter, and some days he’d surprise you and ask for a little hot mustard and then pretend he hadn’t the next day.

You also made sure to change the sides too; apples, strawberries, grapes, sliced cucumber with a little salt. He favored plums when they were in season, or clementines when they weren’t on the sour side. When peaches were ripe and available, you would slice them thin and watch him savor every moment in having them, because you didn’t just cook for him.

You learned him, and that was something nobody really did, or at least the ones that did had left by this point. Maybe that’s why it meant so much–even now– to make him things he’d actually eat.

You flipped the sandwich, and were greeted by the perfect shade of gold–edges crip, center soft, cheese pooling at the corners. The sound of sizzling was almost soothing now, a him of comfort beneath the heavy weight of your thoughts. You pushed on through the routine though, toasting both sandwiches perfectly and placing them onto separate plates after slicing them diagonally, moving on to the apples soon after. Bucky took his plain, you took yours with a light drizzle of honey, and you arranged them accordingly in fanned out half moons.

The tea was the last step out of all this, which was supposed to be the easiest, or so you thought. You did your usual approach, fill the pot, and wait, then you collected the tea bags, and added whatever fix-ins were required. Bucky took a bit of lemon and nothing else. You on the other hand took honey, milk, and sugar, which always perplexed Bucky because he couldn’t imagine how it tasted with the food. It only took a minute and a half for the kettle to start whirring, but right when you reached out to take it off the burner, the steam hit your wrist, scalding and sharp.

”Shit!” You hissed, jerking your hand back, going to clutch the area out of pure instinct, but with how quick the pain came, it was gone even quicker. You tilted your forearm toward you, watching the redness fade before your eyes like it always did. The skin washed itself clean on its own. No burn. No mark. No evidence of an unwanted steam incident. You let out a shaky sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to ground yourself before returning to what you were doing, only this time with more caution in your actions.

You were used to the little miracles your body performed; the healing, the reflexes, the slowing down of aging, and you were appreciative of it, even though you didn’t use it outside of that. Not since you met Bucky, and not since life became close to normal.

You never dwelled on it. Not when your mornings were spent in shared silence with Bucky, curled up in bed whispering to one another and giggling, and certainly not when your nights ended with his arms around your waist and Alpine draped like royalty over the both of you.

You were living the life you wanted, or trying anyway.

But for all the forgetting you did, Bucky thought about it any time he saw the effect of the serum course through you, because he knew the one thing you never said aloud anymore.

You had a choice, and he didn’t, and it gutted you every time the conversation came up, or when someone referenced it in general.

It wasn’t that you regretted taking it, but when you learned what they had done to him–what they had stolen, and warped, and ripped out–it made everything curdle inside you. You remember crying in the quiet of his room, trying not to wake him because your transition to super soldier had come so easy but his came with such pain and anguish.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and began to stir the tea gently, tapping it off the lip before setting everything onto a tray and rushing over to the pantry to throw a snack bag of the kettle chips on there too for good measure, then you began your descent down the hallway.

The door to his office was cracked open already, probably from Alpine’s invasion, and as you got closer you could hear the clicking of his keyboard, it was quick and steady, with no stops in between, like he wasn’t contemplating his next words. You saw the soft steady glow of his desk lamp beckoning you to come closer as you nudged open the door with your foot.

”Congressman Barnes,” You said, your voice light and teasing, “Your legislative aide is here to make sure you don’t starve yourself to death while rewriting Section Four.” His typing stopped in an instant, as he looked up from his computer. The second his eyes found yours the tension in his jaw softened and a crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

His hair was slicked back neatly–though a few strands had started to fall loose near his temple–and his striped tie was draped over the back of his chair like a white flag of surrender. He wore a dark blue button up shirt which had become crinkled from the way he was slouched over his desk, but he still looked godly. He was done for the night, and you could see it in the way his shoulder dropped the second you entered into his line of sight.

“Well,” Bucky started, clearing his throat from the hours of silence, “For a second I thought I was having a stroke when I started to smell toast, but I’m happy to realize that’s not happening.” You shook your head, stepping further inside the book filled office, your feet dragging across the thick rug that lined the floor.

”Lucky you I’m not the harbinger of death,” You replied “Just the bringer of carbohydrates.” You added, placing the tray on his desk, watching as he pushed himself out from under it so he could wrap his soft arms around you, tugging you gently into the narrow space between his legs. You moved without protest, your hands automatically wrapping around his shoulders, while he tilted his head up to find your face.

“Hi,” He murmured, like he was telling you a secret. His eyes crinkled with affection, the kind that reached deep into the corners, where his laughter lines had started to live. You reached for him in those moments, smoothing his hair back, seeing the soft silver threads along his temples, the signs that he was slowly aging. It was beautiful to see it, and you didn’t say a word to him about it.

”Hi,” You whispered back, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth–just enough to melt into. His hands flexed gently at your waist as he brought you closer to him so he could give you a longer one, like he’d been waiting for it all day and you were quenching his desire for it. You pulled back from the kiss just enough to see his face again, your nose brushing his while your thumb traced the line of his jaw. He opened his eyes, looking up at you with the soft, warm, glassy blue irises, closing them when you kissed his nose.

”Quit trying to distract me from my mission. You need to eat.” Bucky sighed. a gentle sound of surrender.

”Alright, alright,” He said, his mouth curving into a wry smile, glancing toward the tray behind you, “Bring the carbs over here before I vanish into dust. You know I can’t resist your meals.” You huffed a laugh and reached behind you, carefully balancing the platter in your arms as you shifted it from the corner of his desk right to the spot in front of him. He made room quickly, pushing a few documents around, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food in front of him.

You slipped up onto the desk, crossing one ankle over the other, watching as he reached for the sandwich first, looking at the way the crust on it glistened in the light. He hummed for a moment before taking a large bite, which was almost half the sandwich. You smirked, watching him chew, then pause. His eyes shut slowly, as if the taste short-circuited something inside his nervous system.

”My god,” He groaned softly, leaning back in his chair, “Did I tell you I love you today?” He asked, almost in a pained way, like he doesn’t tell it to you enough, which he does.

“Yes Bucky.” You said, smiling down at him, as he devoured another bite of the sandwich like it was his first meal in days. There was something boyish about the way he ate your food, the satisfaction, the way he voiced how pleased he was, the look of him closing his eyes and sighing. It was the best compliment you could get from someone you loved so much.

”You know,” He muttered around one of the bites of apple that he had picked up, “We should really consider opening a sandwich shop. You’re good at making all kinds of them, and I’m good at managing…We could call it Bread and Bucky,” You rolled your eyes at him, laughing at his proposal.

”Absolutely not.”

“Come on!” He exclaimed, moving his chair towards you, “It’s catchy! Bread and Bucky–bread being you, obviously, because you're soft and warm and comforting, and me…Because…Well I’d be your best customer and the manager.” You shook your head, taking a bite of a slice of your own apple.

”You flatter me, but you know pharmacy is my life.” He let out a small laugh, leaning back in his chair again, keeping himself close to where you were perched.

”Yeah…I know…I know…How was work anyways?” You shrugged, taking another bite of the apple.

”Busy, and burning. Same as always. That teenager came in again, the one with a new prescription every other day. He told me the government is watching him this time around.” Bucky raised his brow.

”Is this the same one who thought he was poisoned by that fast food mascot?” You nodded.

”Yep, same kid.” Bucky shook his head.

”I’m really admiring the creativity of that kid, it’s a new thing every week.” You smirked.

”Well, when the doctor will write any prescription for you, I guess that’s what he needs to do to spice things up.” Bucky snorted and picked up another slice of apple, chewing slowly as he watched you. The corners of his mouth were still twitching with the remains of a grin, but his eyes were softened again, less amused now–just full of the admiration he had for you.

You reached for the mug of tea you made for yourself and blew on it gently, taking a small sip, letting the sweet, nectar-like flavour swim down your throat, keeping your eyes on Bucky’s, catching him leaning back in his chair again, glancing at your knees, like he was thinking for a moment, contemplating his next moves, calculating if it was the right time or not.

“What’re you thinking about?” You asked, squinting at him with a devious look in your eye. Bucky set his apple slice down on the edge of his plate and brushed the crumbs off his button up shirt, coming closer to you.

”I’m thinking…I want to spend every day of my life with you.” You blinked down at him, not because the words surprised you, but because of how he consistently said these things with such softness in his voice that it never failed to make your heart seize. He reached for a slice of your apple, twirling it once between his fingers before glancing back at you, holding it up in front of your face.

”Marry me,” He said, the words low and steady. No grin this time. Just pure sincerity, “For real.” You let out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking your head.

”Bucky, that’s the fourth time this week you’ve asked me…”

”I know.”

”And you’ve been asking me every other day for the past three months.”

“I know.” He responded again, his pupils dilating, almost like he was being serious this time around.

“You already know what my answer is.” You said gently, setting your tea down on the desk.

”Still,” He said, his voice a touch raspier now, “I need to keep hearing it. I like hearing you say it.” You sighed, leaning toward him, reaching out to brush your fingers along his jaw, watching as he smiled and closed his eyes.

”I’ve said yes a billion times over.” You whispered, “And it’s always going to be a yes no matter how many times you ask.” He wet his lips, before looking up at you, like he was memorizing every inch of you, and then with a slow inhale, he shifted his hand to the top drawer of his desk. Your brow furrowed the second he slid it open.

”What’re you doing?” You asked, voice soft. He didn’t answer right away, which made you lean forward slightly, unsure of what he was grabbing, until you saw what was resting inside.

A small, black velvet box.

Your breath caught in your throat and your jaw went slack, your lips parting as your eyes flicked from the box to his face, and then back again. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, and the blood rushing to your cheeks and chest. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

He picked up the box with such tenderness that it made your throat tighten, like he was handling something precious, something out of this world. He held it in his palm, while his vibranium hand opened it slowly, revealing a delicate ring perched right in the center of it.

It was a hazy greyish blue sapphire stone, something that you had always wanted, something that Sam had asked you about exactly three months ago. You had rifled it off to him, a sapphire stone with a little halo of tiny tiny diamonds around it with a silver band, and that was what was in the box.

You were stunned into silence, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as tears began to cloud your vision. Bucky glanced up at you, smiling gently.

”I was going to actually propose on our trip last week,” He said, thumbing the corner of the box with his nail scratching against the velvet, “Had it all planned; hike in the morning, breakfast by the lake…But then…” He chuckled softly before continuing, “You got the flu,” He glanced back down at the ring, then back up to you, “Then I realized, I didn’t even need to plan this, I didn’t need to find a moment…I already had one and I had it every time I was with you.” You stared at him, your fingers curling slightly against the edge of the desk to steady yourself.

“This is our life and I want it every single day, until we go grey…If you’ll let me-“ You were already reaching, as you practically crawled off his desk and into his lap, his arm instinctively opening to catch you. The box was still in one hand between the both of you while you cupped his face with and kissed him breathless. He smiled into it, a little stunned himself now by how quick you moved.

“I take it that’s another yes?” He mumbled against your lips, as you tried to continue to mesh your mouth on his.

”Yes,” You whispered, pecking his lips again, “Yes, that’s another yes.” He laughed at your excitement, pulling back a little so he could adjust and grab the ring from the box.

”Then give me your hand,” He said, his voice drawing low. You held your left hand out, seeing it tremble a little as he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like he had taken a sizer and measured your hands during your sleep or something. Bucky looked at you with glassy eyes.

”Jesus Christ you’re my fiancée.” He let out a small laugh as you leaned back into him to kiss him again. It was short, and calming to him.

”I love you so much Bucky.” He smiled.

”I love you too…Jesus I love you too.”

[ynnie631]

“Oh my god.” your best friend choked, eyes teary as she stared out across the campus park. You whipped your head to the side, jaw immediately slack at her boyfriend openly kissing another girl. 

She was left stunned, lips quivering with heartache.

“Dylan… he’s—” her voice cracked, tears flowing as she sobbed. 

You were also stunned. But seeing your best friend cry made your blood boil. 

“Oh hell nah.” you seethed. 

You rushed to tie your hair, uncaring for the few strands that refused to stay put. Your best friend spluttered as you grabbed your bag, shouting your name as you marched straight towards her ex–boyfriend’s whereabouts— intent on beating the absolute fuck out of him.

You weren’t letting him go that easily.

Not when this man had been entrusted with your homegirl’s heart. He had a lot of nerve ghosting her for hours, leaving her on read, and avoiding her during classes. 

With the number of red flags he’d exhibit, you knew it was only a matter of time before your suspicions were served correct. 

And look where he was now. 

He had messaged your best friend some sorry excuse about being absent— only for you to catch him kissing and hanging out with some random girl?!? 

“He has a lot of nerve…” you smiled wickedly, eyes locking onto the football spinning on a player’s finger. 

With a few swift steps, you muttered a quick apology and snatched it from him.

“What the fuc—”

You reeled your arm way back, fingers clenched like a vice, twisting your upper body as you summoned all the strength you could muster— ZHWAP!

The ball shot through the field, zooming past unsuspecting bystanders who gasped at the bullet–like object.

The boy screamed— raw, high-pitched, and filled with pain.

You grinned maniacally.

“Ooh— you’re mine now bitch.” 

with an unrestrained cackle, you turned to the stunned face of a salmon–tressed player.

“Call the ambulance.” SNAP!  You bit off your acrylic nail, pain blooming on your nail bed. But you didn’t care— not with the adrenaline rush fueling your thirst for blood. 

“I need that whore alive so I can beat him up again.” 

“Oo! Be a dear and hold my bag.” 

With the last nail snapped clean, you cracked your knuckles in preparation. Making the other members behind shudder at the sound.

“I forgot I didn’t need it.”

And with that, you ran— leaving the salmon–tressed man stunned and agape. 

He watched as you body-slammed the poor boy into the ground, dragging him by the leg to— 

“Damn!” one of the players hissed. 

“That girl elbowed his damn spine!” 

“Wait— didn’t she say to call 911?”

Sukuna stood at a distance, an impressed smirk curling on his lips as he slung the bag’s strap over his shoulder, intent on guarding it with his life.

BAM!

Another hit collided with the boy’s skull, and Sukuna all but sighs dreamily. 

“That’s the love of my life.”

“HIS TOOTH WENT FLYING— did you see THAT toji?!?”

“RECORD! PRESS RECORD!!!”

“That boy is DEAD—” 

⌗ 🧷... Divider — @hyuneskkami

💌┆Inspired by Trin's sukuna and wife skits. It's so funny and gets me everytime so what if this is how they met in this modern au and he's just love at first sight. Like do you get what I'm getting at

[blues-stories]

I haven’t really worked up to smut but I’d do have an interesting head cannon for the boys when they’re doing the ✨Devils Tango✨.

Imaging The LADS men loosing control of their Evol during sex:

Xavier:

Picture this- the room is starting to heat up as you and Xavier are frankly going at it like bunnies. You’re Exhausted, Over Stimulated, and quite frankly SORE from the positions he’s manage to bend you into. (Who knew you were so flexible? You sure didn’t) And right as he’s pistoning into you for the umpteenth time, you start to notice a….Subtle difference…At first.

One second he’s panting and sweating as he hovers over you, your back flush to his chest, and the next he’s become a Mother fuckin glow stick.

It only gets brighter as he keeps going, chasing his high until eventually- once he does cum- You’re literally getting flash-banged from the bright flash of light that emits from him. Alarm clock? Needs to be reset. Lights? Three bulbs busted from the surge of power. Xavier? He’s finally dimmed down as he collapses onto of you, mumbling about replacing everything tomorrow.

Rafayel:

Once again the scene is nothing new. This time you’re on top of him as he sits on one of the blush sofa like chairs in his studio, Hands digging into your hips as he guides your movements. What started as you taking control quickly turned into him guiding your body like a puppet on strings….Not that you particularly cared though.

He’s got you bouncing and grinding faster- HARDER even as he tries to pull you and himself over to that metaphorical finish line- and my god would you both be finishing. His face is getting flush- his skin scalding hot to the touch, so much so that you’re starting to get more and worried..

Poor Rafayel is so lost in the moment that he doesn’t notice the fireplace starting to roar to life, nor does he notice the steam rising from his body…It’s mere moments until he locks you on top of him as you both reach your high, his finger tips feeling as if they’ve scaled you in the process….Unfortunately the burned cloth of your Hunters uniform and the very mild Hand prints on your hips do nothing to help his case.

He makes whispered promises to you to buy a new uniform and soothe the marks on your hips with some aloe… (I imagine them as sunburn marks instead of actual burns)

Zayne:

Ironically his and Caleb’s are the one that started this rant.

THIS time you’re not at home like the others- you’re actually at his office (Very original I know) And the scene is shocking to anyone that knows Zayne.

You’re laid back against the desk as Zayne stands between your legs, a hand on each thigh as he keeps you nice and spread so you can really take all of him…Now zaynes Evol acting up isn’t exactly a new thing, but what you’re starting to see now is DEFINITELY different.

Soft grunts can be heard from him with each thrust he gives you, his once warm hands have now gone cold- bone chilling so as that feeling seems to spread throughout his body…Up his arms and onto his chest, down his stomach and- oh god it’s like you’re being fucked by a icicle…To make matters even more complicated, Ice and frost start to spread toward the ground- coating the floors and crawling up the walls with how intense things are getting…

And the moment- the second he does finish deep inside you? The door to his office has frozen shut, and a big fat glob of snow seems to come raining down onto you…Zayne tries his best to hold it together as you sit up with snow flakes on your lashes, a slightly red and runny nose, and a big dollop of snow on your head…

He assures you it was an accident as he oh so kindly starts to dust the flakes from your hair, already planning your care plan for when you inevitably catch a cold from him…Of course that can wait till AFTER he’s done with you though…Now that the door is frozen shut, why waist this opportunity of alone time?..

Sylus:

Sylus has you under him with his hands pinning yours over your head, his fingers intertwining with yours as he ruts and grinds into you. That luxury mattress and bed frame he brags about? Absolutely rocking with each thrust of his hips, the post probably putting dents- if not HOLES- into the wall.

Now Sylus’s Evol is unpredictable- more so in the sense that it possibly can do just about ANYTHING- so if he were to ever loose control, who knows what’ll happen…But you know who’s about to know? You. At first it’s minor really- that familiar red and black mist oozing off of him as it slowly surrounds both you and Him- spreading like vines across the bed in a slow and meticulous manner…

Too lost in the sauce- Sylus keeps thrusting and thrusting with his eyes pinched tight and his teeth bared, a low growl leaving him as he buried himself to the hilt inside you and blows his load…You soon follow after… However instead of the usual blissed glow on you face, he finds your brows knit and mouth forming a thin line on your face. The reason? In the midst of his high, all those stuffed animals that had littered your shared bed had gotten wrapped up into the mist, squeezed so tight until they simply burst into energy…

His mumbled apologies do little to sooth your anger- Especially as he mumbles about replacing your limited edition stuffy you oh so proudly had displayed…Sure you had won the war against being single, but my god had it come at a cost…

Caleb:

This fucker right here-

Unsurprisingly, you were sprawled out on the soft sheets of your bed, hands fisting the pillow you lay on as Caleb’s head is tucked happily between your thighs..He’s been at it for hours- and despite your pleas and protests, he hasn’t stopped yet.

Caleb’s favorite place is between your thighs, making you squirm and fall aprat all from his tongue alone…He loves it so much actually- that he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s gotten off just from watching you writher in pain and pleasure…Just like now as he feasts on you, ignoring your words along with the rest of his surroundings while he feeds…

Unfortunately, despite that coil in both your bellies growing tighter and tighter, you can’t help but watch as the stuff on your bedside starts to shake…It’s small at first, a few pens on your night stand, then your dresser- then all the furniture in the room starts moving as if there’s a earthquake….But Caleb’s eyes are on you as he eagerly and hungrily awaits you to reach your peak…

Just as you do, the bed as well with the rest of the furniture are lifting off the ground, the entire room looking like something out of the exorcist movie…Your climax crashes over both of you with a wave as you arch your back- Caleb spilling his own release on to the bed in the process…And just as quickly as it happened, everything in the air seemingly drops back to the floor with a loud thud, your own body sitting up from the sudden falling sensation, and the sound of something very fragile shattering…

Not even Caleb’s cooking will be enough to calm the rage that comes with shattering your entire collection of little baby figures you’d worked on these past few years…But hey- at least you both came right?…

[whoreash]

daydreaming ──★ ˙🍓 ̟

“have you noticed, you hum when you cook,”

eyes, immediately, darted to the person sitting on a stool in front of you— itoshi sae, in nothing but pyjama pants and phone in hand, scrolling nonchalantly as if he hasn’t just, practically, told you he loves you.

well, maybe that was an exaggeration. but noticing something so small must be a synonym of 'i love you'.

“i do?” you ask, curiousity piqued as you try to catch the hum, while cooking eggs— sae’s usual for breakfast.

“mhm, and you scrunch up your nose when you think,” your boyfriend replies, still scrolling on his phone, “and you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re angry.”

you eat his words, digest them for seconds, throw them up, eat them again and store them in your heart— what the fuck. how does he even know that? you, always, though that sae just wasn’t a perceptive person in relationships, as his mind was occupied by soccer. but, now everything just became foggy in your head. sae knows you.

“how— how do you know that?” you stutter, out of pure shock, and intimacy, completely forgetting the egg that’s quietly simmering.

sae looks up now, surprised at your words— as if, anyone whose ever met you knows those things. they don’t. and sae never realises how important this is to you, not when it seems so natural to notice these things, about you.

“i dunno, just think about it, sometimes.” he thought about it all the time, he thought about you all the time. all the small habits and shy gestures and unconscious actions— he’s engraved them all in his memory.

at least, next time he sees you biting your cheek, he’ll know to stay clear.

note : i can feel harry styles summer in my veins,, new album drop soon plzzzz!!! (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*

[cod-dump]

Teen!Ghost AU:

Kyle has abandonment issues. He's constantly in contact with someone, either in person or through phone. He doesn't do well alone. When he was younger he had severe separation anxiety, he needed someone in his family with him at all times. John woke with Kyle in his room, just watching him. Simon has had Kyle have sleepovers in his room for months.

Kyle has outgrown the separation anxiety. But sometimes the house is too quiet and he needs to seek someone out to calm his nerves. Or he'll go across the street and hang out with the MacTavishes if Johnny isn't available. He's getting better, but he has his moments.

[xpulchritudinousx]

shopping again?

Katsuki loves you, he really does with all his heart. But your obsession with little trinkets drove him crazy, the thing that drove him even more crazy was how he folded every time you smiled at him. Letting you get away with everything under the moon. 

At least you were obsessed with collecting random cute things like sanrio character themed collectables, or those dumb dolls that come with the lip glosses he keeps finding scattered around your home no matter how hard he tries to keep the house clean. You could've been obsessed with cars or handbags.

But hey he wasn't going broke right away, just steadily and as willingly as your merciless soft and moisturized hands let him possibly be. Yes you loved handbags, it's what you put those dumb keychain dolls on, but you didn't force him to get you a bunch. Hell, half of your wardrobe was made up of things he just saw and thought you'd like. Of course he was right, he knew you better than you knew yourself. 

He really needed to stop spoiling you, you were starting to become a brat without even trying. Just giving him a little look before he just shrugged, trying to keep his act of nonchalance up. The truth was you were more expensive than making Izuku's damn suit and he couldn't even say anything about it. 

Especially when you'd been learning Japanese so diligently for him, your little accent just made it even more cute to him. Biting the inside of his cheek every time you stuttered over your words as you asked him for something. 

Today was no different, with you tiptoeing over to him with that sheepish look that told him you'd found out about something that required driving or money, usually both. "Katsuki... Could we go to the mall, please?" There it was, the answer was obvious even though he rolled his eyes and tried to keep up the facade of annoyance. "Why?" 

Watching your cheeks puff out a bit and your eyes flicker away from him told him everything he needed to know. Rolling his eyes before grabbing his phone and just checking for himself if there was something, groaning when he realized throwing his head back to the couch cushion. 

“It’s not…” “It is.” 

“Why? Don’t you already have enough of those stupid stuffed animals? Our bed barely has enough room for us on it anymore. Why do you need one giant one?” His question just made you huff a bit, grabbing his hand with that same begging look in your eyes. 

“It’s so cute, please? I know our room’s really girlie, but it makes me happy…” He hesitates at that admission, sighing before yanking you down and pressing a little kiss to your cheek, grumbling under his breath as he hugged your little tummy. “Fine, but you owe me.”

 “A thousand kisses?” The words earned a snort from him, shaking his head as he bumped his nose to your neck, nuzzling it in a bit. “Two thousand.” A little giggle left your lips at that, turning to hug him back as you start dramatically smooching his face all over. “Easy.” Yeah… He was a sap, but at least he got kisses.

kind words and comments r always welcome!

[greenflamedwriter]

I love this idea, it's ironic I was just thinking of writing a draft of this idea but initially;

It would be based in Pidw and Shen Qingqiu died reincarnated as Shen Jiu and I was going to make him Maomao. Then make Shen Yuan Jinshi, so its not a copy paste of apothecary as sy is still knowedable loves beasts and flora and instead takes Shen Jiu under his wing at the Heavenly Palace. SY role is the same as Jinshi but he's in charge of Luo Bing-ge's large harem and he has to know poisons, wife plots and such to combat it as a transmigrater he is technically cheating but he's impressed with Shen Jiu deducting and reasoning to get to the conclusion when SY knew the answer because he read it before he died (I just think with how maomao see's herself as a common servant whose expendable and hides her emotions Shen Jiu would be like that)

And SY is such a rich kid he feels like Jinshi, and with the blood parasites no one in Binghe's employ has to go thru the surgery that all eunichs go through he just uses his blood mites and the peoples bodies if they mess around with his wives get punished. Shen Yuan is still puzzling how he ended up in such a situation of tending to Binghe's garden when he was just a rogue cultivator, until one night the Emporer vistis his 'favourite' and Shen Jiu witnesses Binghe pushing SY down and Shen Yuan is like. "Go ahead but you will have to find a replacment for my position," And Bing-ge is like "What?" And Shen Yuan "If I have that type of relationship with the Emporer I can't take care of his wives, I would have bias and you can't trust I will take my job of neutrality and tending to each wife the same if that were to change, do you have anyone suitable to replace me?" and currently they don't.

Funnily enough, Shen Jiu has his memories as Shen Qingqiu, Luo Bing-ge also knows its his Scum Shizun BUT they're at a stalemate as Shen Yuan is placed in the middle who took Shen Jiu in and is teaching him as his own disciple and is very fond of him. So Shen Jiu is using SY as a shield and he's vindictive as Bing-ge values SY and doesn't want him upset and with Shen Jius potential he can replace Shen Yuan eventually so now Bing-ge has no choice but to accept the brat.

I was also thinking of Yue Qingyuan being reincarnated who knew Shen Jiu's mother and tried to adopt Shen Jiu but this time Shen Jiu wants nothing to do with him.

But having Shen Jiu as Fengxian and Yue Qingyuan as Lakan was another direction I was thinking off- and making Luo Bingmei as Jinshi, the little brother to the Emporer Luo Bing-ge and having Shen Yuan as Maomao. Whichever would be easier to write I suppose.

Okay yeah, Shen Yuan is absolutely Maomao coded, and would work perfectly in a SVSSS AU (the weird boy obsessed with rare beasts and all the freak plants instead of poisons, kidnapped and sold to the emperor's palace? And his knowledge of flora and fauna saves the lives of some babies and, you know, the emperor Binghe gets obsessed in this case hehehe), but you know what else would work heartbreakingly perfect in that same AU?

Shen Jiu as Fengxian and Yue Qingyuan as Lakan.

I don't even have to develop.

[secretlyazombi3]

leon's a bit taken aback once you tell him about your insecurities, but he tries to take it on the best way he can as your boyfriend.

he's a bit shocked to hear that you're even insecure - to him, you're perfect. but he knows invalidating you won't help. so he just sits there and listens while looking at you with his soft blue eyes . he silently wishes you could see yourself through his eyes and see how beautiful you are to him.

he's never really been an affectionate one, but now? he's kissing your neck and telling you how perfect you are to him every chance he gets. nothing kills him more than seeing you frown at your reflection in the mirror.

it's not long before he starts straight up acting like your personal hypeman. every time hes out shopping with you, he's holding up cute lil tops and telling you

"you'd look so pretty in this." before stumbling on his words and adding "-not that you aren't pretty already. you are. i just think you'd look extra pretty in this."

leon's not really the best at helping others with their emotions, but he'd be damned if he just let you think negatively of yourself.

[rafes-honey]

Thinking of… ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Swan!reader x rafe when their daughter was first brought into the world.

He used to be so tough. Now he was a sucker for a two-month-old girl who couldn’t even hold her own head up.

Rafe Cameron, the boy who once sneered at softness, now sat cross legged on the nursery rug, holding a puffy little bear onesie in one hand, a pink bunny suit in the other, brow furrowed like this was life or death.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, looking up at you with all the seriousness of a man going to war. “She needs to wear the bear one. Look at the ears.”

The ears, you echoed silently, watching him. Your impossibly beautiful, feral, once cold hearted boyfriend now down on the floor in sweatpants, his hair a mess, whispering baby talk to a tiny human swaddled in blankets like a burrito.

“Rafe,” you said gently, hiding your laugh behind a silk robe. “She just spit up on herself. Again. You’ve already changed her three times today.”

“She’s gotta stay cute, though,” he insisted, glancing down at the sleepy baby cradled in his arms like she was made of glass. “C’mon, mama. Don’t tell me you’re not obsessed with those chunky little arms.”

He leaned down, kissing her face over and over, his voice dropping into that ridiculous high pitched cooing tone he only used when it was just the three of you.

“You’re daddy’s little loaf of bread, huh?” Kiss. “Little fluffy biscuit.” Kiss. “With your soft little belly roll right here yeah, that one.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “You’re not even proportionate yet. You got no neck and too much thigh. What even are you?”

You giggled, sitting beside him, watching as he zipped her into the bear suit with reverence, making sure her little mittens were on, her hat snug, her feet warm.

She blinked sleepily, smacked her lips, and sneezed one of those tiny newborn sneezes that made Rafe gasp like she’d just recited Shakespeare.

“She’s perfect,” he said with awe. “Like… elegant. Like you.”

You blushed, smoothing your fingers through his messy hair. “She’s got your eyes.”

“And your nose. Which is why she’s gonna be a heartbreaker,” he muttered, resting his cheek on her tiny tummy. “I’m not gonna survive this, Swan. I used to scare people. Now I cry if she makes that little ehhnk sound in her sleep.”

You curled into his side, the three of you tangled up on the floor of the nursery, warm and safe and quiet.

And in that moment, Rafe Cameron once hard, sharp-edged, full of hate was just a boy, in love with his baby girl, dressed in a bear suit too fluffy for her own good.

[jijournal]

"Jealous Much?" | D.M

Potter!reader x Draco Malfoy

Summary: You receive a letter with a gift every week, and your brother Harry and his friends won’t stop teasing you about a “mystery admirer.” Little does he know, the sender is the last person he’d ever expect.

A/N: I'm currently in love with potter!reader x draco scenarios. ♡

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It started about a month ago—a quiet little mystery that became your favorite part of the week.

Every Friday morning, just as the Great Hall buzzed with chatter and clinking silverware, a sleek, pale-gray owl swooped down gracefully and landed in front of you. It was never late. And it always brought something thoughtful—something that made your heart race just a little.

The first gift had been a delicate silver charm bracelet, simple but elegant, with a tiny serpent dangling from the chain. The note attached was written in tidy script:

“Something subtle… to keep me close, even when I’m not there.”

The second week, it was a small box of enchanted chocolates—each one shaped like a star, and when you bit into them, they whispered things like, “You’re beautiful,” and “Thinking of you.” The letter that time said:

“A little sweetness to match yours. Don’t share them with Weasley.”

You had giggled at that one, earning a curious look from Harry across the table.

Week three, it was a pressed flower—some kind of rare, deep purple bloom you’d never seen before—enchanted so it would never wilt. The note was shorter that time, but no less meaningful:

“Even something rare and beautiful pales next to you.”

And today? As the owl landed gracefully in front of you, heads turned, and Harry, who had already caught on to the pattern, raised his eyebrows with exaggerated interest. You untied the small parcel and unfolded the parchment first.

It read:

“Meet me tonight. Same place. P.S. You look stunning when you smile at my letters.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you unwrapped the gift—a silver locket. When you clicked it open, inside was a tiny photo of you (one you didn’t even remember being taken) smiling down at something out of frame. Opposite it was a moving image of Draco, eyes soft and a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips. Your heart squeezed.

“Alright,” Harry said, setting down his fork and leaning forward on his elbows. “This is getting serious now. A locket? You have to tell me who it is.”

Ron and Hermione both looked up, curious and amused, but Harry was the most relentless.

“I’m guessing—hmm—Ernie Macmillan.”

You rolled your eyes, tucking the locket carefully into your pocket. “Nope.”

“Michael Corner?”

“Wrong again.”

“Hmm…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Zabini? He’s smooth.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Lockhart?!” Harry gasped suddenly, eyes wide with mock horror. “Is it Lockhart? You can tell me!”

“Harry!” you squeaked, swatting at him, your face burning as you laughed.

“Look at her blush!” Harry crowed. “It’s Lockhart. Case closed.”

Ron groaned. “Please, no one wants to think about that.”

That night, you slipped out like usual, heart thudding as you made your way through the secret passage to your hidden meeting spot. And sure enough, there was Draco, already waiting, arms crossed, expression… stormy.

You frowned. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, just glared down at the ground. His jaw was tight, and he seemed to be brooding even more than usual.

“Draco?” you pressed, stepping closer.

Finally, he huffed and muttered, “If your brother keeps talking about other boys, I swear I’m going to hex him into next week.”

You blinked, startled—then burst out laughing. “That’s why you’re sulking?”

Draco scowled but didn’t deny it. “It’s annoying. All day, it’s been Corner this and Zabini that—and Lockhart?! Are you kidding me? I should’ve hexed Potter right then and there.”

You giggled, sliding your arms around his waist. “Jealous, much?”

“Maybe.” Draco didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes were sharp but softened when you reached up to brush his hair back.

“You know it’s only ever you, right?”

That earned a rare, genuine smile. He leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, pulling you flush against him like he never wanted to let go.

“Let them guess,” you whispered against his lips. “It’s more fun that way.”

“As long as you remember who you belong to,” Draco murmured, smirking now, possessive but playful.

You laughed, pecking his lips. “Always.”

⸻

The following Friday, you thought maybe things would settle down. But oh, how wrong you were.

The owl swooped in as usual—but this time, it carried a huge box. Bigger than any gift so far. You stared as it dropped the package in front of you with a graceful thud.

“Oh, this is serious now,” Harry announced, eyes lighting up as he grabbed the box before you could. “Come on, let’s see what lover boy sent this time.”

You groaned, but Hermione and Ron were already leaning in curiously, and of course, the Weasley twins—never ones to miss out on teasing—slid onto the bench with identical grins.

Harry opened the box dramatically—and all five of them gasped.

Inside was the most stunning gown you’d ever seen: emerald-green silk, shimmering faintly, clearly enchanted, with intricate embroidery that looked too expensive to even touch. You couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Holy—” Fred began.

“—bloody hell,” George finished.

“Is that designer?” Hermione whispered, eyes wide.

Harry held it up, gaping. “This must’ve cost a fortune! Okay, okay, this is big money. We need to think. Who’s rich enough to pull this off?”

You tried to grab it back, face burning. “Harry, stop—”

“Theodore Nott?” Harry guessed first.

“Nope.”

“Mclaggen?”

“Wrong.”

“Zabini?” Hermione chimed in, clearly entertained now.

“Montague?” Fred suggested, holding the dress up to himself with a wink. “If it is, tell him I want one too.”

“Ohhh,” George added dramatically, “I bet it’s one of those international students. Super rich.”

You groaned, hiding your face. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Fred and George shared a look and started chanting, “She’s getting married! She’s getting married!”

“I am NOT—!"

And then it happened.

A sudden clatter of footsteps, sharp and purposeful, echoed across the Great Hall. Everyone turned—and your stomach dropped.

Draco Malfoy was storming across the room, eyes locked on you, face like thunder.

The table fell dead silent.

“Uh… why’s Malfoy coming over here?” Ron muttered nervously.

Draco didn’t stop until he was standing right behind Harry, towering over him with his arms crossed and that deadly glare fixed in place.

“I’m the one who bought the dress, Potter,” Draco announced, his voice cool but sharp, loud enough for half the hall to hear. “Not the cheap students you’re rattling off like some pathetic guessing game."

Silence.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Fred dropped his fork. Hermione blinked like she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Draco turned to you then, gaze softening ever so slightly. “You’ll look stunning in it, by the way.”

Harry's eyes widen even more, practically bulging out of his eye sockets, as Draco leans in to kiss your forehead.

And with that, he spun on his heel and strode out, his cloak following behind him.

There was a beat of stunned silence… and then chaos.

“MALFOY?!” Harry exploded, whipping around to stare at you. “You’re dating MALFOY?!”

Fred and George howled with laughter, practically falling off the bench.

“Ohhh, this is gold,” George gasped between wheezes.

“Best reveal ever,” Fred agreed, wiping tears from his eyes.

Ron just looked horrified, and Hermione… Hermione slowly closed her book, gave you a look, and said, “I knew it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “…Well. I guess the mystery’s solved.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!