#and like I VIVIDLY remember my passion for them. just not exactly when everything was

[quillsanddaydreams]

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story) 

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Please do 8th, I am a whore for that one!! 😗

Bitter addiction

For @drarry-is-my-therapy | Dialogueprompt: " if you bite that lip one more time, I'm going to go it for you "

⚠️- SMUT | TANGLED FEELINGS | JEALOUSY | TOP HARRY |

Someone wise said There’s a fine line between love and hate, so fine that it may even seem like a point if far into deep. And so exists a very fine line between love and lust, much mistaken often to be the same. Combining the three, love, hate and lust, were what harry felt for draco. He hated draco, loathed with every single atomic matter that ran in his veins, his muscles and his psychological being and yet he loved the way draco was, they way everything about him screamed ' watch me', effortless in every sense, like he must've been curated by Michael Angelo himself, and harry loved him like he loved the hate he had for him. The man could snap a finger and he would be the hottest, most beautiful man in any room, just like an angel had himself come down to show mercy on harry and then there was lust. The most dangerous of them all. For once harry could handle the love and the absolute hate, but lust, it drove him crazy. It kept him up nights after night in relentless sighs, moaning and whispering his name like a prayer he'd learnt since he was a child. And above all, he hated that Draco made him feel.

Harry had been with men and women, woken up with strangers and had scattered them away but that one drunken night after work had transitioned into a fixed memory, as if everyone had after him was based on such evaluation, that everyone after him would have to be analytically better than him, but he had no competition. He was one of his kind, only one of who could make harry desperate to have him writhing under him and that was Draco. Harry remembers that night vividly when they had stumbled from the bar, to the kitchen in Harry's place, sloppily kissing each other, with moans emerging out of them like a rhyme to a poetry, and the hands all over each other. He remembers kissing the side of Draco's neck, hearing that grunt that made him groan in pleasure that sent fireworks across his body and all how Draco humped for the tiniest of friction between their bodies. One thing after another, Draco was lying under Harry, moaning for more, his eyes sparkling with the tears of pleasure as he asked Harry to go faster, like he meant it and harry remembered going on and on until the last of his breath gave out and he collapsed on top of Draco, marking his neck with hickey's in hopes that he may never forget the wondrous night.

But Draco had left much before Harry could've asked him anything and harry knew the sign too well, being the one who did it too often himself. He went to work that very next morning, not seeing Draco, even though they shared a room and even the same case but all Harry thought of was the pleasured look on Draco's face.

But they never discussed that night, as if so it was only a drunken mistake and nothing was left to talk about. Harry knew it then to never get involved with Draco, yet somehow, there he was with Draco's hands pinned against the bed above his head with one of Harry's hand resting over his little waist as he fucked Draco with so much of a pleasure.

But this time, Draco left before morning with a note " thanks for a great night ~ D.m."

Harry didn't know if he should've replied or not, but somehow decided he'd talk with him over work. But like last week, he couldn't, not because there wasn't anything left off to do but because he had Found him Flirting with Jackson in Muggle artifacts department.

This happened 3 more times in total when Harry had let down his so pulled up guard with only simple words that Draco Whispered in his ears when they'd dance " I want you, harry "

It was as if, Draco too was addicted with the pleasure of feeling Harry's soft, tanned skin against his, feeling his arms as Harry fucked him over the bed, feeling of his hands being pinned and seeing in Harry's eyes. Maybe it was bitter addiction to both of them, but it was addiction.

" he's playing on something " Ron had warned harry when Harry had tried to seek some advice while they were on a usual 'bitch about' session.

" what exactly could he even play at ?"

" I don't know Harry, maybe he's wanting you to reach out to him or definitely playing hard to get. Whatever it is, it seems like friends with benefits, only you don't know how if it really is your case " Ron explained as he squinted his eyes from the narrow beam of sunlight that hit his eyes

" why would he even do that ?" Harry sighed as he slumped further in his chair " I mean I'm fine with friends with Benefits but if that's what it is, I need to know "

" you're fine with friend's with benefits?" Ron asked as though he was surprised

" I mean- yeah. It's not like it's total shit. I mean yes there's a risk of actually liking him but what most plausibly could go wrong now. I hate him, yet I like him too "

" hm- you guys always have had a pretty weird relationship " Ron hummed playing with the crystal ball from his table

" I don't know. I'd Just like to know whatever it is that we have, like is it like exclusive or friend's with benefits or if it's just some random hook-"

" is he a jealous guy ?" Ron suddenly asked leaning forward as though he was finally attentive

" what ? "

" is he the jealous type of guy ?" He asked

" I- I don't know. I haven't seen him being potentially jealous of someone around me, although he does make sure that everyone watches him when he dances with me, but I don't think that's him trying to make anyone jealous " harry shrugged

" what's your point anyways ?" Harry asked crossing his legs

" you guy's are not exclusive, not that you two know and knowing you two both won't talk about it, make it seem like whatever you two have is exclusive"

" how exactly ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows

" let's say, the next time you guys hook up, you stay up, or something, tell him to go Maybe and that someone's coming over " Ron suggested

" that's a shit suggestion but I agree on what you're trying to get on. I just have to make him jealous " harry hummed as he stared at the wall behind him

" exactly. Now you just have to find someone to actually make him jealous through "

" and who would that be ?"

" hey, ron can I talk to you for a mom- oh, send me a memo, whenever you're free "

Harry looked at Ron curiously as though the wildest idea came into his head " Blaise? You got a moment ?"

________________________________

Harry grinded his body against Draco's as they danced to the low music of the bar they had gotten drunk in like every other time it happened. Harry enjoyed the sensation of feeling Draco's hands over his side's, his body pressed against his own, his breath fanning over Harry neck, swaying his body with Harry's moves and then, there it was,

" I want you, harry "

Harry smirked to himself as he still danced against Draco, ignoring the uncontrollable urge to disapparate them to his bedroom.

" I'm sorry but I got a date in a few minutes " harry replied, his voice coming more of a rasp

Draco's Hands suddenly stopped swaying, his body becoming slightly stiffer as he mumbled " you got a date?"

Harry smirked to himself as he turned around " yes, a date. I'll see you around Draco" he winked and walked off to the bar, ordering one drinking, gulping it away and then he met Blaise.

Harry made it so much sure that draco definitely saw Harry Flirtatiously Whispering in Blaise ears. And grinned happily when he found Draco was watching, with a stern face.

The whole pretend with Blaise and dodging draco went on for 2 week until Draco had to ask, he just had to.

" what's the deal between you and Blaise ?" Draco narrowed his eyes from across the table at harry as he pushed back his chair to lean backwards

Harry looked down from where he was standing finding some file with an amused smile " nothing special. Why do you ask ?"

" no reason, apart from the fact that it seems unrealistic. Like it's staged " Draco tilted his head for emphasis.

" staged ? Looks like someone can't digest that I'm with someone " harry snickered softly as he stacked away files

" then tell me what Exactly of an item even are you and him ?" Draco asked, merely curious, perhaps more.

" nothing exclusive. Random hook ups. A few dates. Why are you suddenly so curious about me and Blaise ? Are you, perhaps, jealous ?" Harry looked at Draco with a mocking smirk

" jealous! Why would I be ?"

" I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm not just with you but with someone else too" Harry's Voice densed as he stepped closer to the chair draco was sitting on.

" why should that bother me ? We're not exclusive " Draco looked anywhere but Harry's face, as if he felt slightly embarrassed.

" exactly. So it's my business however I like to fuck Blaise, against the wall or against the bed. And that shouldn't bother you " harry smirked as he put his hands over the sides of Draco's chair, leaning down to face Draco.

" it's none of my business " Draco gulped as he stared at the proximity of their faces

" not your business, right. Then you won't mind if i tell you we hooked up after the last time we hooked up ?" Harry asked as he tried his best to stare at Draco's lips without wanting to kiss them.

" nope. Not my business. You're at perfect liberty to kiss whoever you want, whenever you want and wherever you want " Draco replied without taking his eyes off Harry's lips, as though if Harry leaned anymore closer he won't be able to resist himself.

" and how I kiss, right. It won't bother you if I kiss over his neck, give him a hickey as he moans, right. It won't bother you if I told you that I kissed him behind the building, made out even, or the fact that I kissed him when I fucked him last night or that I bit his lips, licked his lips and passionately kissed him with tongue with the desperation to just Rip each others clothes off with and just fuck until our breaths gave out like I fucked you against the bed, with your hands pinned above your head while you kept moaning my name and begging me to go faster. It won't bother you if I said, I did it with him too " harry rasped

" y- yes. It doesn't bother me " Draco swallowed.

" good then" and harry walked away back to stacking his files up in the rack again.

" I suppose you'd be bringing him to ministry dinner ? Rockwall's retirement dinner?" Draco had asked at the end of the day just before they left

" who ?"

" Blaise " he could've sworn Draco smirked before he had turned away to pick up his coat from the stand.

Harry frowned before he realised why he would " oh, I- no. We're not that public kind of couple sort of thing yet so. I'll ask him though"

" you should bring him " Draco had smiled mockingly before he walked out of the door, leaving Harry to fetch his own coat and bags.

" what's he playing at now ?" Harry furiously Whispered to himself as he left for home.

He didn't figure out what Exactly Draco was playing at until the very day of the ministry dinner and they were sat at the far end of the table, facing each other. Everything seemed fine until during the middle of the dinner, Harry not so subtly jerked on the feeling of something going up his legs. He apologized across the table until he noticed Draco sitting on opposite side as if he was satisfied with something and harry just knew, it was going to be one heck of a night.

He tried hard but Harry was forced to watch Draco eat, as he swirled his tongue around that of a cherry, tying it in a knot in mouths before he popped it into his mouth maintaining an eye contact with harry. It wasn't as if harry didn't had a choice, he had, he could simply look away from watching Draco sucking on straw rather seductively, eating a cherry or licking his fingers, but he couldn't simply resist because of the tension it forced down Harry. He was forced to watch Draco eat because if he didn't, he felt the world would implode with the energy between them. Draco too made sure harry was watching him and when he finally did take his eyes off him while eating, he travelled his legs up Harry's legs, slowly and carefully, causing a tingling sensation as he bit his lip. With almost a yelp, harry held the corner of the table tightly as his knuckles turned white, controlling himself. He wanted Draco to stop doing whatever he was trying to do but lord was he mesmerised with Draco biting his lips anytime Harry looked at him. It drove him crazy, more on the fact that he couldn't do anything about it.

Harry allowed everything to go as Draco until he was sure he felt something brush against his zipper. Harry almost grasped it, without a catch because there wasn't anything to catch. Suspecting Draco must be behind, as he was, he looked at him, glared at him more like to stop doing it, when he felt the tingling sensation again with Draco much juice-ly biting his lip with a wink and harry was done..

" would you all excuse. I have to use the washroom " harry immediately rushed to the washrooms, closing the door behind and breathed heavily. He stared down his pants, a much clearly visible boner had taken place because of Draco's mischievous behaviour and somehow harry loved it. He loved the tension, the lust and all the sexual energy there was. But sat in a ministry dinner he couldn't afford to have a boner or have inappropriate thoughts of fucking Draco right there because of how highly unethical it was.

Harry pushed himself away from the door, clearing his mind as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his body relaxing little by little. To do at least something while he relaxed further, he washed his hands and just then he heard the door unlock.

" they're missing you out there " he smirked as he closed the door behind him, locking it with his back pressed against it, arms crossing in front.

" fuck off Draco " harry rolled his eyes as he closed off the Tap, taking the tissue and drying his hand.

" oh we got a little Arousal " Draco teased as he had seen Harry's pants. Harry blushed in embarrassment but didn't deter.

" because of you " Harry rolled his eyes turning around, pocketing his hands. Draco pushed himself from the door, walking towards Harry leaned over the sink, his back facing the mirrors.

Draco with lustful intentions, grabbed Harry's tie pulling him closer " I'm very glad then " he smirked as he swiftly tried to way his hands down Harry's body

" Draco-" harry rasped getting hold of Draco's hand, stopping it from going further

Draco smirked as he leaned over to Harry's ear, Whispering " I've got you Harry "

Draco bit his lip as he leaned backwards to watch harry trying to control his breathing as he was forced to watch Draco's lips.

" what you gonna do now ?" Draco seductively questioned as he moved his other hand to immediately cup Harry's pants.

" fuck " harry gasped as he tried to hold of Draco's hands but was pinned behind him with Draco's hold.

" i knew you and Blaise were never a thing"

Draco bit his lip as he cupped a little tighter than before, feeling how hard Harry have became in such a short span of time since he came in the washroom.

" I swear Draco, If you're going to bite that lip one more time, I'm going to do it for you " Harry's Voice deepened as he stayed there watching Draco with lust.

Draco smirked as he licked his lip and bit them again but a warning been given once, harry didn't waste time in pining Draco against the wall by their side in a few seconds that Draco didn't see it coming however he wasn't surprised.

" I warned you " harry purred

" who said I didn't want you to " Draco smirked. Harry only looked at him for a second before he pulled draco into a much awaited long kiss of lustful passion embodying their tongues in little battle of dominance. But once gave in, Draco never again stood a chance against the dominant harry, biting off Draco's lip without a care in the world only to hear him make the same sound he always did whenever harry found his lips over Draco. It was as if their lips were designed, but only for them, like they were made to be kissed by no one but them. Harry knew Draco was giving in because he liked it,he liked it when Harry was rough, he liked it when Harry took control because it was unexpected of whatever Harry would do and Draco loved it. He loved the passion, the desire, the desperation Harry's mouth held as they finely pressed against his as if his tongue was trying to write a letter over his mouth. And they kissed like they Only had other's air to survive on. They kissed like never before.

" admit it, you were jealous " Harry teased as he bit Draco's bottom lips, his body adjusted betweens Harry's leg as he was sat over the sink

" in your dreams potter " Draco moaned tugging the end of the roots of Harry's hair.

" you are a lot more than just jealous in my dreams malfoy " harry purred as he kissed him again, much nastily this time, as if it was a necessity.

" show me all you got " Draco moaned into his mouth and harry wasted no further time in apparating them to his bedroom without thinking of anyone at the party or what would he explain or how would he in the first place. All he cared right now was Draco, and his tangled feelings for him.

" you sure ?" Harry had asked only once after they had messily taken off each other's shirt off, now lost somewhere in the puddle of clothes while he was on top of Draco.

" never been more " Draco moaned before he pulled harry down into another messy kiss and slipped into the intimacy of moaning his name as they fucked again over his bed, only this time it was more than just fucking, Maybe it always had been more than just fucking to them. It might've been Making love, who knew, not even them, they were just hormonal men seeking desires to be fulfilled.

300 followers appreciation dialogue prompt request open

[leviiattacks]

heyyy there, saw your requests are open. and i'm wondering maybe you could do a timeskip where everything is done and levi finally opened his tea shop. then there he met reader, and he treats them differently from other customers. thank you, hope you're having a good day.

author note :: this was kinda rushed as is most of what i post. the reader is a writer just bc i thought it would be cute and also ISTG. i wrote this entire thing thinking leviolas was such a cool name for a tea shop then googled it and saw it’s also the name of a spider so... ++ btw i have not yet double checked or proofread this because i wrote it at 2am but yeah it’s definitely not great :-) word count :: 2.4k??? somehow???

you’re sweet like honey when you first order from leviolas. you’re the same when you ask the owner for extra napkins and you remain exactly the same when you return with the intention to stick around for a writing session with a black tea by your side

something about you is attractive. that’s what levi thinks of you when you first walk into leviolas

you’re just incredibly wholesome poking your head around looking at all of the handmade pastries and confectioneries in admiration

you think the homely decor is cute and reminiscent of cottages in the countryside, the view outside the windows is beautiful and the scent of coffee alongside tea is heavenly

the pastries are beautiful and you find yourself eyeing the macrons pretty frequently. just EVERYTHING about leviolas is cute :-(

but one particular thing is especially adorable to you

and that would be the owner

when you hear his name for the first time you’re a little shocked

levi ackerman to be specific captain levi ackerman, the high ranking official who aided in paradis’ independence and freed the nation from the grip of titans

you read about him a year back in a paper or two and vividly recall the valiant title he held as humanity’s strongest soldier

he still holds the title that’s for sure but now he happens to own a tea shop

it’s slightly unusual it’s not every day you see a soldier retire and live such a plain life but you suppose the simplicity makes levi happy

honestly, if you had been through hell and back like him you too would wish to spend the rest of your days in the company of tea leaves and sweet cakes

today is a day like any other you’re sat by one of the windows and contemplating sitting in the outside seating area

the sun is shining and lands uncomfortably on your face at this angle and you may as well make your way outside

but before you can a shadow looms over you and a broad chest leans over to cover the window with dainty curtains

“you looked bothered by the light.”

oh god.

it’s him.

he’s standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression and all you can do is open and close your mouth not knowing what to say

humanity’s strongest soldier

levi ackerman

also known as the really really really attractive cafe owner you’ve been crushing on for the last few months now

seeing him up close is much more different to looking at him from the comfort of your seat or whilst you order

he’s normally got his back turned whilst collecting orders or another worker collects them as he prepares the beverages

that’s why the unexpected interaction has you nervous

you can always tell when he’s made your drink because he honestly has a way with tea leaves and you kinda want to gush about how much you enjoy it

but, no, no, no.

you’re panicking just looking at him

soft black strands of hair stick to his forehead, his undercut is oddly satisfying to stare at and he smells of pine trees which again is refreshing

“ah hahaha thank you for blocking the sun out!!”

why the fuck did you ha ha????

this is so awkward.

putting on your best front you beam up at him hoping your toothy smile doesn’t look stupid

then again it probably does because who the hell has a good toothy smile

nobody.......

levi’s gaze lingers on you but if he has anything else he wants to say he doesn’t make it known

instead he firmly nods and turns away

you’ve messed up,,

only!!! you manage to mess up even more....?

without thinking your hand latches onto the back of his blue button up and your face burns up realizing what it is you’ve done when he stiffens to a stop

as quick as your hand has grabbed onto his shirt it lets go and you awkwardly laugh again

hahahahaha

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hold onto you so hard i was just...wondering if you could let me in on your secret.”

the random sentence is one you’ve made off the top of your head because you don’t have any real reason for holding onto him

but thankfully for you the saccharine of your voice is enough to sway levi

when he turns to see you with the same smile eagerly awaiting his answer something sparks in him

his chest feels a little funny but he ignores it

“secret?” he questions

“yeah!! your tea!! you’re really good at making it and aaaahhhh” you sigh contently thinking back on it.

“i remember when i ordered rose tea one time. you made it beautifully and the taste was infused so delicately it was incredibly soothing.”

hearing you ramble passionately about what he loves to do makes his chest feel funny again

he doesn’t know what the hell is going on exactly

but the only way he can explain it is his heart somersaulting and flipping despite him not wanting it to

despite that, it’s quite enjoyable

it’s probably got something to do with your kindhearted demeanor or the way you always manage to give him a smile when you waltz in

but levi finds himself fighting to touch you more and more as the days pass

your collar is always haphazardly done and he wants to lean in and fix it

sometimes you’ll have an eyelash on your face and he wants to lean in to swipe it away with his thumb

occasionally he stares at your hair and wants to sort it out. half the time it’s all over the place from the wind

he wants to lean in and smooth it out.

all he wants to do is LEAN IN but he sees no valid reason to

he’s lucky he’s always able to catch himself before his thumb reaches your cheek (you’re very oblivious and never notice how close he really gets)

ever since your first encounter at leviolas a few months back he’s been dragged into your world of books and lively stories

it doesn’t take you long to break out of your shell and you’re always telling levi something new

he doesn’t speak as much as you but when you coax out a story or two out of him he’s always earnest

you’ve learnt a lot through the conversations

you’ve learnt about his lost comrades, the horrible things he had to see on the battlefield, how he hopes he’ll live happy with what he has left

there are certain conversation topics he skips entirely and you respect his boundaries

you and levi are sat by a window and a comfortable silence floats between you two

it’s been four months

four months since you asked what his secret was

come to think of it he never told you what it was

he’s intently staring at you as you drink the lemon tea he’s just made you and his stare is a little too intense

feeling nervous you pick up your cup hoping for something to occupy yourself

recently the butterflies in your stomach have been increasing in number but you know it’s wrong to fancy levi

you don’t know why you think that but it’s the fact that you’re sure you’re not his type

he probably likes organised people, dependable people, funny people

not you.

you’re just an irksome author who spends your days writing in his shop

honestly he finds you annoying he has to. you’re always hanging around here

however, you do remember the one day you did choose to write in the park he thought you had died or something. that made you feel a little sad because he can’t really help but automatically worry if his routine is broken and you happen to have accidentally become part of his schedule

no, like levi’s literally said he has your name in his planner and whenever he thinks of a new thing to make you he’ll write it down with your name next to it

but still,, you’re convinced he has to find you annoying

there’s no reason for thinking it but you DEFINITELY think it’s correct

absentmindedly you haven’t even noticed levi still staring at you

“y/n?”

looking up at levi he’s clearly worried about something

humming in response telling him to continue he does

“i like someone.”

oh.

“...i’m not sure they’d return my feelings, that’s why i mentioned it.”

you smile at him warmly and you feel your heart sink, obviously he has to like someone. it’s probably someone in the corps, someone strong, someone capable. you’re not any of those things.

“well, you need not worry. if a man as good as you fancied me i’d be over the moon. i’m sure they would too!”

keep optimistic, don’t let him see you upset.

levi’s cheeks grow bright red and he bashfully tries to hide his embarrassment by covering his face with his hands

you laugh when he doesn’t budge and stays in the same position 

“c’mon levi, confess they’ll accept you have nothing to fear.” you coo persuasively

finally letting up after a few seconds he lets his arms drop to his sides.

“would you date me?”

the question takes you aback and you stare at him startled

soon realizing the idiocy laced in the inquiry he quickly retracts his statement

“nevermind, that was stupid.”

ignoring him you still want to answer

“uh well, i would. i have thought about it on occasion.”

he’s blinking rapidly trying to process what you’ve just admitted.

“you’ve thought about...?”

“dating you. yes i have.”

“and why the hell would you do that?” you can’t tell if he’s mad at you

“you’re capable, respectful. you’re considerate and quiet. i mean it you’re an amazing man really. also your tea!! imagine getting to drink it every day.”

you really have to add in the part about his tea because you know he loves it when you compliment it :-)

“ok, you drink my tea every day already.”

his short uninterested response stings and the dam of regret bursts open 

you shouldn’t have said all of that.

you and levi sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity. you don’t dare look at him and your course of action is too drink your tea as quick as possible before dismissing yourself.

but before you can set your plan in motion levi breaks the ice.

“let’s date.”

you freeze and your eyes grow to the size of saucers

what did he just say???

he has to be losing his mind

“but levi what about the person you like?”

his eyebrow cocks upwards and an amused expression stretches across his face.

“i was talking about you.” he confesses boldly

this is a fever dream, nope, nope nope. you can not comprehend that this is your reality.

pinching your arm you hiss a little when you feel the pain

okay so, you’re definitely not dreaming...

“i, you, me. you...you like me?” the sentence is a jumble of words but you manage to sputter out something that makes sense

“yes. i like you.”

he’s being so blunt you can’t tell if he’s being serious but when you remind yourself that this is levi you relax, a blunt straightforward confession is meaningful coming from him 

BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT

HELLO???? HE LIKES YOU BACK?%^%^”*

you get all blushy and flustered and you let out another one of your awkward hahahahaha’s but it’s a good hahahahaha

cautiously testing the waters he grabs your hand from across the table intertwining his fingers with yours

the gesture is adorable. the buzzing sensation that travels through your laced fingers makes you giggle to yourself giddily

“leviolas suddenly a matchmaking agency now? ;-)” your joke is dry and unfunny and levi rolls his eyes at it 

“you’re not funny.”

“but you still like me.” you tease

“yes. i still like you.” he admits

a few days have passed since then

you and levi have been the talk of the town 

humanity’s strongest soldier finally found his flame???

the chatter and rumors spread like wildfire, both you and levi aren’t fans of being in the spotlight but nothing negative has been said so there’s no complaints so far

levi places a cup of tea in front of you, it’s a herbal kind because you’ve been complaining about a headache

today you’re explaining why you dislike the plot of beauty and the beast and how there’s so much wrong with it. from the weirdly toxic relationship to the power imbalance. levi stands listening attentively whilst waiting for you to take a sip of the tea

just as you’ve paused to take a large breathe and prepare yourself to continue explaining how unbearable that book is levi uses it as his chance to say what he’s been wanting to 

“drink up before it’s ice cold.”

following his instructions you interrupt yourself and take a gulp of the herbal tea

your eyes glimmer in approval. it tastes of strawberries and you’re delighted already feeling your mood slightly raise in response

“it’s GREAT?? what did you put in it?? it doesn’t even taste medicinal.” once again, you’re fawning over his tea

“so levi ackerman, what really is the secret to all these perfect cups of tea?”

and without a seconds hesitation he responds.

“i was making the tea for you. that’s the secret.”

it takes a while for the gravity of his words to sink it but when the meaning does you cup his face in your palms and peck him everywhere. he whines a little but you can tell he enjoys the attention

you find that you’re more than happy you’ve found a home in levi and his shop

and levi’s more than happy he’s found a home in you and your books

:-)

[christ0pher-evans]

Variety’s Actors on Actors

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader  Warnings: Slight Angst / Implied Smut Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing a Chris Evans fanfiction. It it loosely based off of Variety’s Actors on Actors interviews with Chris Evans and Paul Rudd / Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It is pure fluff, hope you guys like it!!! Please reblog and like🖤

 ♡

When Variety had approached you to be involved in the ‘Actors on Actors’ style interviews, you knew that it could be really fun, a great opportunity and you felt immediate excitement for who they might pair you with. 

It was only a day later when they had told you that they wanted you to do the interview with Chris Evans. Normally, any time that you got to spend with Chris, physically or virtually, was fun; however you had no idea how you could possibly interview the man when you knew all there was to know about his life and career, I mean you’d only know him 16 years, and been together for the past 6 years, leading to your past first year of blissful marriage. 

You had spent the last month away from Chris due to the filming of your latest movie, and was missing him so much that your heart hurt. The thought of getting to spend a full 45 minutes doing this interview with him was making you jump for joy, because usually neither of you have enough free time simultaneously to be able to spend this length of time together. It’s often a fleeting text of “I miss you”, or a 5 minute phone call between scenes. 

You had spent the past week since finding out about this interview trying to come up with interesting enough questions that the fans would want answers to. You were also thankful for Variety as they had sent you a pre-made list of questions in case you got stuck.

It was finally an hour before the interview, and you hadn’t seen Chris’ face for the past two weeks so you decided to make a bit of extra effort to look nice for him. 

You were sat in front of your dressing table in your apartment that had be rented out for you whilst you were filming. Make-up was spread all over the table and you could see the reflection, several outfits littered all over your bed where you had yet to make your mind up on what to wear. 

45 minutes later and you had a light brown and glittery smokey eye, a subtle winged liner with a gloss over your lips and had given yourself a bouncy blow-dry. After looking through all your outfits, you had decided on one of Chris’ oversized jumpers that you stole before you left and some jeans - even though you wanted to look really nice for him, you knew how much he would appreciate seeing you in his clothes more. 

You had made yourself a coffee and set yourself up at the breakfast bar for the interview. Checking everything was set up and ready for the interview, you waited patiently with butterflies in your stomach for it to start. You were bought out of your excited daze by the noise of your phone, a message from Chris popped up.. ‘Can’t wait to see your beautiful face’ Boy, did he still make you swoon after so long together. 

Not long had passed before the sound of a video call was coming through on your laptop, and as you answered, a member of the Variety team was on your screen. “Hi Y/N, it’s so lovely to speak to you and thank you so much for partaking in this interview. In a couple of minutes, we will connect you straight through to Chris and you can just start chatting and asking your questions. We will record everything from our end and then edit it together to be posted online.” “That all sounds perfect to me. Thank you so much for having me and letting me do this with my husband.” You couldn’t help but grin, it never got old getting to call Chris your husband. You absentmindedly twirled your engagement and wedding rings round your finger.  “Okay, we will connect you now. Have fun!” 

And then there he was, bright eyed and grinning at you through the screen.

“Hi Sweetheart.” His voice made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips.  "Hi Chris, how are you?” you reply sweetly.

You made some small talk for the sake of the interview, before starting to ask each other questions. “So I have a confession to make..” you paused briefly, “I could not think of any questions to ask you that I didn’t already know the answer to, so I thought I would ask questions that I think fans would want to know the answer to.” 

You grin, proud of yourself and proud of the big laugh you got out of Chris because you had come up with such a good idea. “My first question is when you first got into acting, how did you navigate the work/life balance?”

Chris took a swig of beer, pondering his answer before starting. “Well when I actually booked my first bigger film that had a busy schedule, was on the film we worked on together, so previous to that I didn’t have much of a social life” he chuckled, “But when you’re filming for maybe 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, you have to quickly find a routine that works for you where you can still show up to work every day and give 110%. I also remember we used to take naps on set in between our takes all the time.” You couldn’t help but smile as you fondly remembered the first time working with Chris. “No but seriously, when you find a script that you are passionate about, and get to work with people that are truly amazing at what they do, you are happy to dedicate as much time as you need to to get that perfect take, to eventually make that perfect film.” 

“Okay, well let’s talk about Defending Jacob, which for you, was a completely different style of character for you to become. How did you prepare for that role?” 

“Yeah, it was definitely a new type of role to encompass, especially off the back of playing Captain America for almost a decade, even though he was considered a serious character, it’s a completely different league to enter. I remember doing a lot of work with real life district attorneys to understand the pressure and seriousness of the job role and I remember going through lines with you every damn day.” 

You zone out as Chris carries on talking about Defending Jacob as you remember the nights fondly. 

————————

You had just finished clearing up dinner as Chris comes bounding back into the kitchen with his script for Defending Jacob. Placing it down on the dining room table, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  “Sweetheart, pretty please can we run my lines again? I’ve been thinking about how I can add more passion into my character to really emphasise his emotions in those tough scenes.” 

You absolutely couldn’t say no to him. You was so proud of how much work he was putting into this show and how perfect he wanted it to be, but you also couldn’t say no to those gorgeous blue puppy eyes. 

It had been 45 minutes since you started running lines, you were now sitting on the dining room table swinging your legs back and forth and you couldn’t take your eyes off Chris pacing round the table, the anger and passion in his voice as he recalled his lines. You could feel the heat pooling towards the bottom of your stomach as he ran his hand through his hair, his chest flexing as he shouted his lines, the gruff tone of his voice only making your panties wetter. You were biting your lip gently as Chris pulled you out of your daydream. 

“Y/N are you alright, are you getting bored?” You shook your head quickly. 

“God no, course not babe. You’re doing great, I’m just slightly distracted.” 

Just like always, Chris could read your mind and knew exactly what you were thinking. He sauntered closer to you, placing himself in front of you and sliding your legs open so he could stand between them. Placing his script down, he used one finger to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“Is there something you like baby?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he called you baby and ran his finger across your bottom lip before ghosting a kiss on them. He leaned down towards you, one hand running down towards your panties as he kissed along your neck and up to your ear, before mumbling..”I think we can take a break”. 

————————

You chuckled to yourself, remembering so vividly on how you both broke the dining room table that night. 

“Oh, is something funny sweetheart?” Chris bought you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you mumbled an apology before changing the subject straight back to the interview. 

“Okay, let me ask you a question now Y/N. I want to know how it feels to be like a superwoman as you managed to film and promote your latest movie whilst we were planning our wedding?” 

You giggle lightly and smile broadly, remembering the chaos that was your life the six months leading up to your wedding. 

“Honestly, Chris, that feels like a blur these days. Planning our wedding was much more work than filming and doing press tours, but somehow we made it work. Don’t make it sound like I did it so elegantly though, I was an absolute bridezilla those six months and I don’t know how you put up with me.” You smile at each other through the screen, remembering the fond memories of your engagement. “But in all honesty, it was just quite a strict schedule with minimal sleep. I loved filming and the press tour for my film was so much fun, as was planning our wedding so even though at the time, it felt like an impossible task, looking back and seeing how well the film did and how perfect our wedding day was, it makes the hard work worth every second.” 

Your smile falters slightly at the thought of some of the more stressful times during that stretch, but quickly returns at the look of love in Chris’ eyes as he hangs onto your every word.

————————

You had spent the day at home trying to organise the seating plan for your wedding which was quickly approaching in 3 months, whilst Chris had been out all day filming. 

Unfortunately before Chris came home, you had pulled your heels on, ready to walk out the door to your awaiting car to take you to your latest movie press panel. A sad sigh was all you managed before you hauled yourself out the door for the 2 hour interview with your cast mates. 

The panel had finished at 9pm and you had jumped straight back in the car, so the driver could take you home to Chris, silently hoping you could catch him for a bit before he went to bed. You knew he would be calling it a night quite early as you had woken up to his side of the bed empty and cold that morning, meaning he had left the house before sunrise. You felt a sudden pang of sadness about how little time you’d spent with your fiancé over the past 3 months. It was no ones fault, you were both busy but it felt like you were actively avoiding one another. You shook your head as a few tears fell. 

As a welcome distraction on the way home, you had opted to start looking at flower arrangements for the bridesmaids bouquets, but you could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling so tired and drained from months of final filming and wedding planning. 

It was just after 10:15pm as you stepped out the car, thanking the driver before heading up the path to your house. You could see the lights were off, bar the hallway light that Chris had left on for your arrival home. You sighed sadly as you stepped in the door to the quiet abyss. You removed your heels, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, knowing that Chris was up just as early tomorrow.

Walking through to the kitchen, you could see Chris had left you some pizza takeout on the side but you didn’t have the energy to eat, just wanting to curl up in bed. 

Heading straight into the ensuite to your bedroom, you quietly took off your make-up and cleansed your face to hide your tear-stained cheeks. Creeping back into the bedroom, you stood looking in the mirror of your dresser as you put on one of Chris’ t-shirts; you looked defeated and utterly glum. As you stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your emotions and bottle them away, you heard Chris stir. 

“Babe, come to bed.” 

You felt your shoulders relax at the rough sound of his sleepy voice. Quickly wiping under your eyes once more, you turned round to see him holding the duvet up so you could crawl under and into his waiting arms. 

Immediately relaxing into the mattress, goosebumps arose on your skin as Chris trailed his fingers up your side to pull you into him. You let yet another tear fall from your eye at the fact that this was the first time you’d actually seen him today, frustrated that work and wedding planning was taking up all your time. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris as he caught the lone tear with his finger, wiping it away. 

“I just want our wedding to be perfect and my movie to do well without having to sacrifice all my time with you” you whimpered, hiding your face in Chris’ chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying you, it will all be perfect. Get some sleep, I love you.” Chris gave you a kiss on your forehead before falling straight to sleep, you dozing off straight after him, with heart full of love. 

————————

The interview was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness of getting to spend so much time talking to Chris but also dread of not knowing when you would get to see his face again before you finally got to go back home in a months time.

“Okay sweetheart, I have one last question and it is one that Variety suggested for both of us to answer. What is the best part about being married to someone in the same profession as you?” You smile at Chris through the screen, trying to think of only one thing to pick. 

“Well, it is difficult to pick one, because there are so many great reasons but also it is really hard being married to someone in the same profession as you. I always try to be honest with our fans and in interviews, so I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We have to go long periods of time not getting to see each other and always having such high pressured schedules doesn’t allow a lot of time for married life.” You sigh at the look of sadness that has washed over both your faces. “However I count my lucky stars every day for having such a supportive and understanding husband like you.” You notice Chris blush at your answer before nodding along with you, agreeing with what you’ve said. 

“I have to agree with you sweetheart. There is definitely some poetic justice in the fact that we met on set, both doing the job we love so fondly and here we are, 16 years later, married and getting to celebrate our achievements every single day together.” 

You have to told back the tears as the interview finishes and Chris disappears from your screen. Even though you have demanding jobs, you could not feel luckier to be married to a man like Chris and you couldn’t wait to go back home to him. 

[dazai-fics]

Stargazing – Dazai Osamu

Pairing: Dazai x Reader (high school au)

Word Count: 2.6k*

Warnings: slight cursing, smut/nsfw- oral, fingering

Summary: Having Osamu Dazai as your boyfriend has never been boring.

A/n: This has been stuck in my head for a while and I finally was able to sit down and write it out so I hope you guys enjoy and don’t judge me too much because this is my first time writing out smut !

Inspired by: Stargazing*- The NBHD

You could feel the cool of the evening seep into your bones as you groggily sat up in your plush bed. Once, then twice, did you blink to remove any bit of remaining sleep as you looked over to the source of your annoyance.

Your phone lit up with a string of messages from only one contact; a contact that as of late had made your heart pound in a way that was indescribable in every sense of the word. Sighing, you picked up the phone and began to read over the messages your extremely clingy boyfriend woke you up with.

‘Samu ♡:

1:04 AM

hey baby i can’t sleep u up?

1:04

Belladonna ? :(

1:05

I’m coming over, have a surprise for us :)

He’s what?

You were now fully awake at this point and groaned at the spontaneity and impulsiveness of your brunette lover. Knowing you had no choice but to go along with his antics, you got out of your bed and quickly ran to your closet hoping the faster you went, the quicker the chills would go away as they flared your arms and legs up with goosebumps.

You were already wearing sweatpants, so you decided to just throw on a black hoodie that was suspiciously too big on your figure.

You inhaled deeply as the smell of vanilla and mint overcame your senses causing a serene smile to overcome your features. Yes, this was indeed the sweatshirt of the Osamu Dazai; a man that in the last couple of months has invaded your every waking thought and had claim over any flush in your cheeks, dimple in your smile, and crinkle in your eyes as they closed shut-tight over the unbearable laughter released at one of his cheesy jokes.

Of course that didn’t mean everything was all raised heart beats and shared smiles with the boy as dating Dazai also meant caring for him and all his dark thoughts and emotions. As well as vise versa since your life by no means was easy and perfect. However, no matter how bad things got; or who left or entered your life, you could always count on Dazai, and him you, to be there whenever life caught you both in it’s gloomy and seemingly inescapable hold.

Another smile escaped your lips and you once again inhaled the calming scent; now thinking back to how you met the lanky, mysterious, goofball.

You had moved to your new town back in your freshman year of high school which of course meant having to make new friends and basically start a whole new life in a time that was so important and vital.

You remember your first day at ADA highschool so vividly; the sweat that built in your palms, and the barely visible motion of your toes curling into your shoes from anxiety. You had thought making friends would be impossible no matter how many times your parents assured you that your “charming” personality would help you make friends so very easily.

It was the end of the day and you were sure that your still very much lack of friends would mean that would be the truth for the rest of your four years in this high school you were very much forced to attend. You felt a tear quickly escape your eye as the anxiety started to take physical form; quickly you ran to a quiet corner and began to wipe furiously and harshly at your eyes as you reprimanded your sensitivity.

“What am I five? Why am I crying so hard?”

You jumped suddenly as you heard quiet giggles next to your ear.

You felt embarrassment flood your body as you wiped even harder to stop the tears. He was a bit blurry, but you could faintly make out the long, curly, brunette hair; dark chocolate eyes, and white bandages that wrapped around his long, lanky, figure. He also wore casual clothes which consisted of jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers.

Your first thought, of course besides the initial embarrassment and anger, was why he was wrapped in those seemingly endless rolls of bandages.

“Who is this weird banaged guy?” You scoffed to yourself as your sniffles came to an end.

“Done crying?” He asked teasingly, that stupid smug smile still on his face.

“I don’t remember asking for your help or comfort,” you said defensively, the venom not really reaching your still red and glossy face.

The boy laughed again good-naturedly; not intentionally trying to rile you up but he couldn’t help but think your anxiety was misplaced.

“Well then, why don’t you come walk home with my friend Atsushi and I, could be fun~,” he offered, his hand held out to you in an act of trying to make you feel comforted.

Your eyes widened as you hesitantly accepted his offer; the boy rushing you along as soon as your hands made contact, going into a rant over another boy named Kunikida mothering the absolute shit out of him.

Four years had gone by and you were both in your senior year;  nothing really changing between you except the now official titles of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘partner’ which you had longed for since as long as you could remember.

Since that fateful day, you had become a part of the best group of friends you could ask for consisting of Atsushi, Kunikida, Yosano, Kenji, Ranpo, kyouka, and of course Dazai.

However, you knew you wanted something more with Dazai since freshman year and although you two were… close, he never seemed interested in more. He seemingly always had a new girl on his arm bragging about the various amounts of… sexual interactions he would have with them and each time it broke your heart a little more.

Despite all that, he would hold you whenever you were down, wiped your tears whenever they fell, and held you close when you couldn’t sleep; pressing gentle kisses when he thought you were knocked out by exhaustion finally hitting you.

Dazai had intimacy issues and fears you knew were holding him back from officially committing to you which is why you never pressed anything and kept your feelings locked up nice and tight… until a couple of months ago when it all came to a head.

Harsh words; honest words were shared by you both in an argument you thought would rip the person you had come to love and rely on most from you forever. Luckily it did the exact opposite as Dazai decided he was done with denying himself from your pure and warm love that made his dark world just a bit brighter everyday.

And now you two were inseparable; lips never too far from each other, limbs entangled whenever chance allowed. Your other friends were definitely sick of it but you both didn’t care as you denied each other from this comfort for too long to let any time go to waste.

You were snapped out of your reverie by gentle tapping at your window. You quickly turned your head to see the man of your thoughts sitting patiently on the ledge, a goofy smile etched into his pretty, pink lips.

You scoffed playfully as you made your way across the room to open the window for him. Immediately, he placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss as his hands came up to cup your face lovingly.

“Mmm missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips causing you to giggle.

“We saw each other, like, six hours ago!” You exclaimed slapping him playfully, causing him to release a laugh himself.

“Exactly! Now c’mon I’m taking you somewhere,” Dazai commanded you gently, grabbing your hand as he guided you out the window.

“‘Samu it’s one in the morning, where are we going?” You groaned in annoyance wanting your boyfriend to join you in bed and cuddle you back to sleep.

“Nuh uh uh~ It’s a surprise!” He exclaimed playfully booping you on the nose as you both made your way to his black range rover.

“Alright, whatever, can I at least get a hint?”

“Hmm, okay, okay, fine,” Dazai relented as he began to type away on his phone playing a song from his spotify that came out on his connected bluetooth, touch screen.

Take it from the top, if I start I just can’t stop…

You giggled silently as you shook your head, your boyfriend rolling down both of your windows and turning up the music for what he likes to call ‘the full midnight drive experience.’

“So are we going stargazing?!” You yelled over the wind and music.

“Yep!” He yelled back cheerily taking one hand off of the wheel to rub at your thigh comfortingly.

“Pull it out of park put in drive, I can feel your heart beating with mine, underneath the stars, lookin' for a sign glowin' in the dark 'til the sun shines, made it pretty far on the first try, might've set the bar a little too high, started with a spark, now we're on fire-”

You both yelled together which winded up with you both laughing uncontrollably. Dazai continued to sing along with the neighborhood as you took this as a chance to examine how gorgeous this man truly was.

His silky, curly brunette hair went everywhere as the wind entangled with it, his dark chocolate eyes shined with the headlights from the cars going on the opposite side of the freeway, his bandaged hands gripped at the wheel allowing you to see every vein and bone from his knuckles, and his face was flushed pink from the yelling and wind.

You laughed freely as you once again joined in with his singing; utter and complete joy filling you both which was rare.

Eventually, you both reached a secluded park with a hill; perfect for sitting and stargazing. Once you both got out, Dazai layed out a towel for you both to cuddle on without getting soaked from the freshly sprayed grass.

You both giggled loudly like the teenagers in love you were as you made yourself comfortable on your boyfriend’s chest; his lanky arms coming to wrap themselves around you, one occasionally letting go to point out the constellations or meteors blinking past in the inky sky.

You had to hold in your snickers whenever he would wrongly name a constellation but nonetheless; you would place a soft kiss on his cheek and thank him for teaching them to you.

Soon, the soft kisses on the cheek would turn to passionate kisses on the lips as Dazai changed his position to where he was on top of you. He began to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck; the juxtaposition of his warm kisses to the cold air surrounding you both caused small whimpers of pleasure to leave your lips.

“‘Samu…” you called breathily causing your boyfriend to look up from the dark hickeys he was ever-so-carefully placing on your collarbone.

“What is it, my belladonna?” He asked teasingly, returning to his methodically placed kisses.

“More…” you whined as arousal began to pool in your gut.

“As you wish.”

Dazai kissed lower down your belly to the elastic band of your panties. After leaving a couple small kisses on your hip bone, he looked up into your eyes for confirmation it was okay to go further. You nodded urgently and placed your hand in his soft locks as if to urge him on.  He let out a chuckle at your eagerness but complied nonetheless; you were his princess and whatever you asked of him he would do, even at the cost of his own wellbeing.

After pulling down your sweatpants and panties, he immediately attached his tongue to your clit; moving it in small circles he knew would make you fall apart. Your whines and whimpers fuled him on as your fingers harshly pulled on his locks.

“‘Samu… want your fingers” You ordered in between moans.

“Where baby, tell me,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your clit.

“inside…please!”

“As you wish.”

Dazai slowly placed his ring and middle fingers into your tight cunt, “Fuck belladonna, so wet for me,” he all but moaned as he gently moved his fingers around trying to find the spot that would have you fall apart all over him.

“‘Samu there! Please!” You gasped as he found your G-spot; not letting up until your back arched and you cummed all over his fingers.

“Good girl; my good, pretty girl that’s it,” he whispered gently as he coaxed you down from your high.

He licked away all the wetness from his fingers as he came back up to meet your lips in a passionate kiss filled with lust and love.

“‘Samu, want more..” you begged softly against his lips.

“Mmm what could you possibly mean~” your boyfriend teased causing you to groan.

“Oh like you don’t want the same thing I can see your hard-on from here,” you teased back looking down to see he was indeed impossibly hard in well fitted grey sweatpants.

“Ha-ha touché, belladonna.”

You both shared a loving laugh as you once again met in a kiss, your hand cupping the back of his head to bring him even closer. Dazai separated for a second to take off his pants and underwear letting his painfully hard cock hit against his abdomen, Dazai letting out a hiss from the cold hair hitting it.

“Need you baby, please,” you whined as your boyfriend soothed you with a kiss to the neck as he began to line his dick up with your wet pussy.

“Almost in, tell me if it ‘urts,” he mumbled as he began to fill you up.

You gasped, never truly used to his size but feeling complete nevertheless.

“Okay?” He asked gently and you nodded kissing his cheek giving him the silent permission to keep going.

“Feels so good ‘Samu!” You moaned as he picked up speed.

“Fuck you’re so tight baby, always so good and tight for me,” your boyfriend praised as he kept up a gentle pace trying to bring you both to your respective highs.

“Gonna cum ‘Samu,'' you whimpered as you felt the coil in your abdomen beginning to snap.

“Go on belladonna, cum for me,” he praised as you did just that; the fast tightening of your warm cunt milking Dazai’s cock as he began to cum with you.

Dazai collapsed on top of you, burying his head in your warm neck and you wrapped your smaller arms around his waist.

“Love you so much ‘Samu,'' you whispered as you felt soft kisses being placed on the dark hickeys your boyfriend left prior.

“Love you more, belladonna; thank you for always being by my side,” he whispered back.

After indulging in each other’s warmth and comfort for a while longer, Dazai cleaned you both up with the towel and dressed you both as he then gently picked you up and placed you in the back seat to lay down as you had fallen asleep.

He took a warm blanket he always kept for you in the trunk and tucked and buckled you in as he took his place in the driver’s seat and drove you both back to your house.

Once you both arrived he took you in arms and walked you both up to the front door where he used the key you gave him to let you in.  As quietly as possible, he then took you both upstairs to your room where he tucked you in again and then got comfortable in the bed next to you; gathering you in his arms and then pressing a kiss to your head.

“Good night, my love sleep well.”

[ukai-simp-services]

because i love you

prompt: tainted hues: “if you loved them, why did you break their heart?”

@tooruluv | #tooruluv2kparty

oikawa x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, poor mental health, depression, heartbreak, small panic attack, alcoholism.

a/n: why am i so sad after writing this,, i think this is my first time writing angst with no fluff T^T

  somewhere in argentina, there is a large penthouse with tall windows and cornered with perfectly trimmed green hedges. the interior of the penthouse is simple, there are no memories cluttering the walls, there are no fairy lights adorning the windows, there are no bento boxes in the fridge, and there are no sweet scented candles in every room of the house.

  there is only dull colored furniture, only overflowing laundry baskets, only a kitchen sink filled to the brim with dirty dishes, and only empty liquor bottles littering the dining table. 

  a home without you, is hardly a home.

  in this penthouse, a young man, barely 25 years old, sits at the kitchen table with a glass of fernet in his hand. one large window is opened, letting the warm evening breeze rustle the thin kitchen curtains and brush over his exposed skin. 

  oikawa still couldn’t stop thinking about what iwaizumi had asked him two years ago. 

  no amount of mind numbing liquor could ever make him forget that interaction -inevitably, the last face-to-face interaction he ever had with his best friend. 

  “oikawa, if you loved her, then why would you break her heart?”

   oikawa gasps to himself, suddenly feeling chills run up his back, as if the memory happened just yesterday.

  he remembers vividly how furious iwaizumi’s voice was and the tired look in his best friend’s eyes - a look that all but told oikawa that he was exhausted picking up the shattered pieces that he always left behind.

  he downs the glass of fernet.

  he pours himself another.

  he remembers that, that was the first time he had nothing to say - the first time that tōru oikawa was at a loss for words. because men like oikawa, men with quick rebuttals and prepared excuses, always knew exactly what to say in every situation. 

  that day, iwaizumi had walked away from oikawa with sadness in his eyes, no trace of hostility to be found anymore. there was no slap to the back of oikawa’s head, no ear piercing screaming of a lecture, and no insults thrown at him. there was nothing.

  but oikawa would’ve preferred a slap to the head or some sort of beating.

  a gentle ache presents itself in oikawa’s throat, threatening a small cry to stumble out.

  oikawa washes it away with a swig to his drink.

  iwaizumi is a faint presence in oikawa’s life now, he calls and texts - the occasional check up - but he had stopped being his best friend a long time ago. 

  losing a brother pains him; it burns from the depths of his core, but losing you practically kills him; it steals every bit of oxygen from his lungs. 

  because, ultimately, you were his reason for living - for breathing; your warmth, your comfort, your presence is what kept oikawa going every day. without you, his days are meaningless, he inevitably lives his life without purpose. 

  but, now he finds it ironic; he chose volleyball over you, his life.

  everyday, from 9am to 7pm, he mindlessly serves, sets, and passes a volleyball. for hours on end, he feels his muscles contract and relax as he tosses the ball up high, just for him to smack it down against a cold and shiny gym floor, he watches at it ricochets back into the air just to fall back down onto the ground again. bounce bounce bounce, till the sound ceases and the ball rests in its place.  

  oikawa now wonders when a blinding passion - a heart pounding desire to play this sport, turned into just a distraction. he finds that now when the very familiar surface of the volleyball brushes up against his palm, he no longer feels his adrenaline pumping with excitement; he feels resent.

  because trying to dissipate his memories of you by overworking his body everyday no longer worked anymore, if anything it only made things worse. 

  every game, every screech of his name from the crowd, every praising cheer after he makes an award winning serve, it all reminds him that you aren’t in the stands cheering him on. faces upon faces, all different colors and all different shapes, none of them are yours. 

  oikawa hisses as he feels a dull ache in his knee, the same knee you would spend hours massaging after practice every day.

  the lump in his throat has become more apparent now, he drowns it out with the bitter liquid in his cup - trying to suppress the feelings that will always be there. 

  he is only 25, yet he can feel his body beginning to give up on him. his muscles are weaker than they were two years ago, his bones throb under his weight with every step he takes, and his mind is continuously drifting off into oblivion. 

  he wonders who he is living for at this point. he can’t lie to himself and say that volleyball is his reason, because then who is he playing it for?

  this country; even with its busy streets and loud music - he still can’t help but feel alone. 

  his favorite memory of you plays in his mind like a film, it’s grainy and colored with a brown, faded hue. your hair whipping in the wind, your dress flowing over your hips, your feet sinking into the sand, your hand intertwined with his, and your mouth open with that melody of a laugh spilling out of it. 

  he remembers your skin felt soft, flawless against his calloused palm. shimmering silver earrings decorated your ears, a gift he had gotten you for your birthday. the air around you was warm, despite the unforgiving ocean winds that was tussling through your hair and clothes. 

  as the memory plays, your laugh begins to fade away in the wind, the already loud noise getting increasingly louder and louder. his ears are ringing now, he can’t hear your laugh anymore. the sky is no longer a heavenly blue, it is now an unsettling gray. your body, your hand holding his, the scenery of the beach, is being ripped from his mind and transforming into a different memory, one he would kill to forget. 

  there you were, eyes big and brimming with tears, standing in front of him. the beach background has now turned into your shared apartment in japan, both of you in the living room. you open your mouth, but oikawa can’t hear your voice - he remembers your words vividly, but his mind refuses to play them. 

  tears spilling down your cheeks, your hands balled into fists; oikawa watches as he breaks down the one person who he deemed to be unbreakable. everything he had built - everything you had built, he watches fall apart for the hundredth time. 

  a sharp pain shoots through his chest, snapping him back to reality.

  he clutches at the fabric of his t-shirt, heaving breaths fall from his lips as he tries to compose himself. 

  the cup full of fernet falls to the floor, pieces of his heart are scattered on the floor alongside the broken glass. 

  oikawa lost meaning in his life the second he walked out the door that shameful day; he lost his motivation, his strive.

  everyday, his body aches with loss. the sounds of cars racing down the busy streets, the loud music playing from his favorite coffee shop, the smacking of countless volleyballs being slammed down onto gym floors, and the lively chattering coming from some rom-com that he left playing on his flat screen tv, all sound like background noise to him - numbly playing in his ears as background music to the memories he constantly has playing in his mind. 

  oikawa never knew about loss or pain until you, never imagined that this is what it would feel like. 

  but, loss has made him wiser; he knows now what will lie ahead for the both of you. he knows that as years come and go, the pain will begin to diminish a little, bit by bit - but he also knows that there’s no way that it’ll ever fully leave his heart. 

  because, as he gets older, he’ll only get more tired. his skin will begin to wrinkle, hair will start to gray, his bones will ache from weight of the world, his lungs will begin collapsing from the pressure constantly on his chest, and his heart will eventually cease to beat, from the death grip you still have on it. 

  he will age unforgivingly, eyes devoid of any color - they have already lost the once charming glint they used to hold. 

  unlike him, he knows you’ll only burn brighter as the upcoming years pass you by. 

  you’ll get back on your feet, your skin will glow again, your muscles will strengthen and your heart will beat with a newfound passion to love yourself - that’s something he’s always admired about you, the passion you held for all things involving love.

  you’ll age with an unstoppable beauty; you’ll laugh and smile so much that permanent crinkles will form next to your eyes, you’ll dance so much that your muscles grow tired, you’ll fall in love again and have all those kids you wanted - kids that will fill every single gap in your heart that oikawa left behind. 

  despite pure science and human biology, your youth will never leave you. you’re one of the few people oikawa has met that have the ability to live young forever. your soul is unbreakable. sure, oikawa may have put a mere scratch on it, but he never came close to cracking it. 

  and that’s the difference between you and him; he will die miserable and alone, heart poorly stitched together and the inside of his body bruised and weak. you will pass away surrounded by people who also - like him - became allured by your kind spirit and your lively energy. his body will fall weak from exhaustion, but yours will fall weak from years of dancing and laughing and singing. his heart will die battered with pain, your heart will die full of love and forgiveness. 

  it’s painful to think about, but oikawa knows this is the truth, and simply just how life works. he won’t sugarcoat it for himself, he knows his ending is exactly what he deserves. 

  so he begins writing a note. the bottle of fernet he was previously so dependent on, is now long forgotten. he holds a shiny black pen in his hand and a white slip of paper in his other. he clicks the pen and holds the tip above the blank page for a few beats; hesitating, before he’s letting the words flow out. 

  it starts, with an answer to a question.

  “i broke her heart, because i love her.”

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part III

So I got a wonderful anon telling me that this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fics, it’s part of my canon maraders fic  We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it here in four parts. I hope you enjoy it! Set during first wizarding war, Lily is very BAMF (but tbh so is James)

Read part I here : After their worst row ever, Lily and James get captured by Voldemort

Read part II here : James tries to save Lily

TW: angsty and violence

PART III

Lily’s raw voice echoed through the castle walls, a lone, hauntingly beautiful gaelic song. The words indecipherable to any of the Death-Eaters who heard it, yet clearly a lament of some kind. She hadn’t been able to stand it, hearing James’ screams, imagining what was happening to him. And when she couldn’t hear him, dread clawing at her every pore, wondering…

Are you dead, my love? Did they kill you? Please don’t die, I beg you!

Haunted by the silence, almost relieved when his screams returned, because she was selfish and wanted him alive, needing him to be alive… almost immediately replaced by rage and terror and guilt and begging them to leave her husband alone, screaming herself hoarse.

She couldn’t stand it when the sound from the dungeons suddenly stopped – a spell, she was sure.

What did it mean? Was he-

She started to sing. She sang in Irish. Fuck them, no Death-Eater could get inside her head now. She pictured him as she sang, her lively lad, turning around mid-laughter and catching her eyes as he and Sirius poked fun at each other, she saw him saying something ridiculous to Minnie and watching as the strict teacher’s mouth broke into a huge grin despite herself, saw all the Marauders chasing each other and yelling and James landing on top of the others. And always his mischievous, adoring eyes turned to her, searched for her. She saw him propose to her surrounded by fireflies, vividly heard that muggle record, the lyrics bittersweet…

”Yours in the gray of December Here, or on far distant shores I've never loved anyone the way I love you

Yours to the end of life's story”

“No!” her voice faltered. “No! Not today!”

She breathed in sharply, as someone knocked on the door, twice, in abrupt succession. She recognised that trademark sound.

“Severus?” she croaked.

Severus pushed the heavy door slowly, almost reluctantly, now that it came to it. He looked uncharacteristically agitated, his waxy cheeks flushed. Relief swept over him as he looked at Lily. She looked upset but safe. She was shackled to the wall, her hands above her head, tied together. She was trembling and pale. There was no sign of the Cruciatus, or other dark magic.

“Are you alright, Lily?” He said, hurriedly throwing a potent heating charm at her.

“What are you doing here?” Lily’s husky voice surprised him, he hadn’t heard her screaming.

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” Severus said, moving closer to Lily and regarding her anxiously. “They hurt me by hurting him,” she whispered.

Tears tracked down her cheek, and Severus wiped it with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said, his voice trembling – he was slightly scared of her, and then there was unexpected guilt - guilt about lying, guilt about how James was going to die. “I tried to... I tried...”

He stopped and took a few breaths, looking at the ground.

“I tried to save him, I tried some healing charms and... and I sent the others away. I wasn’t sure what to do, Lily, but then I was called away and Avery had... I was too late, Lily, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“No, Sev, please, not James, please,” Lily’s broken whisper made Severus’ heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, I’m... you don’t know how sorry I am,” Severus whispered back. “I’m desperately sorry.”

Lily didn’t say anything, silent tears streaming down her face.

“He... James and I, he spoke to me, he thanked me for trying to save him, before he... he asked me to save you, to get you out of here. I promised him I’d do it. Do you understand Lily?” She was looking at him blankly, through her tears, her mind far away in some distant time or place. “Lily!” Severus whispered urgently. “Lily, he wanted you to be safe! He insisted I save you! He told me a code word - I’ve no idea what he meant, but he said to tell you - Graham’s Number.“ “Graham’s Number,” Lily repeated quietly, as though dazed. “James.” “Yes, James,” Severus said, trying not to sound impatient. “We have to leave now, I promised him I’d get you out of here! Do you understand?”

Lily nodded, still crying.

“My beautiful,” she said. “My gallant lad.”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said, eying the door of the cell. “We need to leave! Now! If Voldemort finds us, we’re both dead!”

Lily stared at him intently. After a few seconds she smiled vaguely.

“I’m so sorry Sev, let’s go, I just... it’s so much to take in, you know? I can never thank you enough, for trying to save him, for being such a noble person?”

Severus squirmed.

“It means everything to me,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, refusing to hold eye contact and pointing his wand at the chains. “Frangit!”

The chains broke, and Lily collapsed into Severus’ arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk?”

“Of course!” Severus said, feeling a bloom of warmth spread through his chest.

This was what he had longed for, desperately, for as long as he could remember – Lily, holding onto him, needing him, weaker than him, reliant on him, asking him, begging him for his help. He tucked his wand in his pocket and lifted her up, looking lovingly into her stunning eyes. Surely she could also feel the deep attraction between them, the passion sizzling beneath their fingertips?

“Lily,” he murmured, bringing their lips closer.

“Severus?” she said hoarsely.

“I love you, Lily Evans,” he said, holding her closer. “I always have.”

“Your idea of love sickens me, but I’m glad you’re so predictable, Severus.”

Lily’s voice was cold as she stepped back from him in disgust, and he found himself staring at the tip of his own wand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Change of plan, Snape!” Lily said. “You don’t get to sweep me away like a lying bastard-“

“Your husband agreed to this! It was his idea!” Severus’ voice rose.

“Gobshites, the pair of you!” Lily said, her voice quivering with rage. “Probably one of the only things you two ever agreed on - that James Potter should sacrifice himself to save me? That James Potter was expendable, that I would cope without him?” Severus dropped his gaze in the face of such fierceness. “You see, I’m not leaving here without James. If he’s dead, and you better hope to fuck he isn’t, I’m still bringing him with me. He means more to me than anyone else, everything else, in the entire world. I’m not leaving my soulmate to rot in this hell!”

Severus looked at her hand with trepidation as she aimed at his chest.

“I was trying to save you, Lily,” he said, stepping away from her.

“Trying to save me for yourself, Severus! Killing my husband was never going to buy you my love!” Lily’s green eyes were incandescent.

“I didn’t… I had no part in it, it was Hugo Avery!” he said.

“No part at all? That’s strange,” Lily sneered. “Because your friend Hugo payed me a lengthy visit which only finished a short while ago, you practically overlapped.”

Snape’s eyes widened with surprise and alarm.

“He wasn’t meant to go near you!” he said.

“He did,” Lily said, shuddering despite herself. “Came in to tell me everything he was planning on doing to my husband, and later on, to me. It took rather a long time.”

“What do you think you’re-“ Severus said in fear, as Lily lifted his wand.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Lily’s voice was hard and implacable. “Imperio!”

Continue reading BAMF Lily here

Snape’s eyes widened for a split second as the invisible spell hit his chest (so powerful it almost threw him backwards) before they seemed to fade, the fear in them replaced by a dullness.

His hands fell by his side. “Is this castle surrounded by anti-apparition wards?” she asked.

“Yes, and the nearby forest,” Snape answered mechanically.

“Where can we use a portkey?” Lily ordered, poking Snape with her wand.

“From the courtyard in front of the main entrance.”

She hated the strange empty look in his eyes, as though he was unable to think for himself and devoid of any thoughts at all, until commanded by her to do so. She hated it.

“Good,” she said. “Now you will do exactly as I say! You will bring me to the oubliette, and you will help me save my husband if it’s the last thing you do! But first, you will bring me to your potions lab!”

                                                             ********

“Step away from Potter, now! I’m taking over!” Avery’s head jerked upwards in shock as Snape landed with a heavy thud right beside him, closely followed by Lily Evans, who had a glazed look in her eyes.

“She’s under the Imperius,” Snape added, glancing around at the other men.

“Snape?” Avery said, glaring aggressively at the half-blood. “What the fuck are you doing here? You said I could finish him off?”

“Change of plan!” Snape said, sounding furious. “Back the fuck away from him now, or you’re a dead man!”

“What?” said Avery. “Why?”

“The Dark Lord wants to take over torturing Potter and Evans himself, he needs to find out about his missing book. He will be livid if Potter is dead or unable to answer him! I mean murderous.”

Avery looked terrified.

“Fuck! Snape, you said...” Avery whispered hoarsely.

“You fool, you should have thought to check with your Master before you went this far! If I were you, I’d make myself scarce, unless you want to face the Dark Lord’s wrath!” Snape hissed.

Avery had never seen Snape look so imposing, so powerful. He looked like he wanted to obliterate them all.

“Shit! I... but what if he asks who...” Avery stammered.

“I’ll cover for you as best I can, but I suggest you leave until he calms down, unless you want to risk being here when he loses it,” Snape said, looking at Avery as though he detested him.

“Fuck. Okay. Thank you, Cerberus,” Avery said, frantically grabbing his cloak and stepping across James’ body as he latched onto the rope ladder and sped upwards. “Fuck Voldemort, I hate that bastard!”

Nobody answered, aware that Avery was extremely unwise in voicing his feelings about the Dark Lord’s unpredictable behaviours.

“Severus, you moronic shit,” Severus said between his teeth. Mulciber and Rosier snorted, enjoying Snape’s irritation. “You two better help me get Potter looking more presentable and less dead, unless you too want to join Avery and get AK’ed to hell!” Snape whirled around menancingly. The two men looked at him blankly.

“You don’t think the Dark Lord is actually going to forgive Avery, do you, you pathetic fools?” Snape scoffed dangerously. “Throw every healing spell you can think of at this traitor, and I’ll see what I can do for you two imbeciles!” Rosier cleared his throat and looked stunned. Mulciber glared at Snape.

“We hardly did anything!” he said. “You probably did more of the Crucios than we did!”

“I presume you haven’t forgotten that the Dark Lord is an extraordinarily gifted Legilimens?” Snape smiled thinly, sticking the tip of his wand into Mulciber’s abdomen. “He’s going to die of blood loss, not of Crucios, obviously, you fool! Care to tell him yourself the extent of your role in this… shambles?”

Mulciber’s lips thinned and he shook his head.

“Thought as much,” Snape replied smugly. “Mulciber, get me the blood replenishing potion immediately. Rosier, give me a hand here – Vulnera Sanentur over his entire body, Brackium Emendo over his ankles, quickly!”

Rosier nodded his head and started firing healing spells anxiously. Snape did the same, deep in concentration, his wand flying over James’ body. Mulciber reappeared moments later, holding a half-empty bottle of dark red liquid. Snape grabbed it off him wordlessly and carefully placed three drops into James’ mouth, scanning his face anxiously. Blood trickled from James’ right ear.

“Still looks pretty moribund to me,” he muttered to himself, touching James’ hands tenderly.

James’ fingers felt frozen, white, almost blue.

“Perhaps Rosier should come with you?” Mulciber asked, inching backwards towards the rope ladder.

Snape’s lip curled.

“Don’t be pathetic, Rosier is a liability, and far too skinny to be able to lift Potter. I need you with me,” he ordered.

Mulciber opened his mouth.

“The Dark Lord specifically asked that you accompany me,” Snape said. “He said he may need our help in questioning Potter, that’s if he isn’t already dead by the time we get there. We need to hurry!”

Mulciber swallowed.

“Now help me lift Potter, and for fuck’s sake be careful, he’s perilously close to death as it is!” Snape said.

[hiccstrxd]

Heaven is you

This was an idea i had for Rayla's birthday and the outline seemed too wholesome to not do it lol. It has family feels and rayllum being soft as always. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness. But this one in particular has brought her an abundant amount of joy, filling her heart with the purest of loves.

Or a recollection of Rayla’s birthdays through the years.

i.

Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness.

She recalls being four and waking up to her mum’s soft voice in her ear, a happy birthday, my love being lovingly murmured in the air. She would pretend that she was asleep, cracking one eye open from time to time and doing her best to contain in her laughter as her mother would start to rub her hair soothingly to wake her up. But she would burst into a fit of giggles before her mum could say anything else — even though Rayla is pretty sure she saw past her flimsy excuse of a stoic facade — and her mother would start to laugh alongside her, tickling her belly and asking her when has her little moonbeam gotten this sneaky.

She hadn’t, obviously.

She’d scoop her in her arms and they would go downstairs where her dad would be cooking her favorite breakfast — he’d always go all out when it was her birthday. And he’d see them still laughing as they approached, he’d see them — his two favorite people ever — and he’d come up to them, lifting her in his arms and making her laugh, telling her that today she chose what they would do because today was all hers. Because he’d move earth and sky for his tiny warrior.

And she remembers the glimmer in her mum’s eyes, her father’s beaming smile, her own expression mirroring theirs; she remembers feeling loved, safe, and content.

ii.

Rayla recalls being eleven and coming back after nearly an entire day of training to a cake on the dining table, a sole candle lit on its center, and a neatly folded paper resting beside it. It was rather late, her whole body ached as the practice had been a vigorous one, but upon seeing the homemade gateau she no longer felt the ever consuming exhaustion. No, she felt lighter, more at ease.

Ethari had been sporting the warmest of smiles, his eyes showing every bit of love towards his foster daughter who they had come to care for as their own. Runaan had walked over to where his husband was and stood right next to him, somehow matching his emotion almost instantly — he had been sort of tense before leaving the meadow — and they had wished her the happiest of birthdays, holding her tightly in their embrace, muttering words of comfort and pride and love.

She remembers thinking that there was still a void in her heart as the aftermath of her parents’ absence, but being there surrounded by her two guardians that loved her an abundant amount and whom she loved as much in return, that showed her day after day their support and their care was enough to bring her solace.

She had felt love all the same.

And she always looked forward to reading her parents’ letter at the end of the end. The words were like a warm hug from afar. She became misty-eyed and held the letter close to her heart for hours as if she was keeping her parents in a safe place near her heart.

iii.

She recalls being sixteen and sitting alone in the Xadian forest. She had been wounded and restless, tired and alone. Everywhere and everything hurt, but ironically she had felt numb from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered what that day was supposed to be.

And the bittersweet afterthought made matters worse because then the pang in her chest was just a little too hard to ignore.

Rayla had felt cold and empty, being alone with her thoughts was as harmful as it sounded and the unbecoming urge to cry was getting hard to suppress. But she ended up shedding tears, letting them fall freely as they have been welling up and contained in since much too long ago.

It was her birthday, and she had tried to forget it, making herself not feel, perhaps then the pain would subdue.

It hadn’t.

iv.

It was her birthday and she couldn’t get the royal physician’s words out of her head. They were spinning, echoing, repeating themselves. And she felt equal amounts of excitement and trepidation all at once.

Congratulations Your Highness, you’re with child.

They have been trying, of course, they have, so the news shouldn’t be such a surprise to hear that their efforts had actually turned out fructiferous. But they have, and she didn’t know how to assimilate them without cutting the appointment short and leaving a very confused physician behind, one who was patiently waiting for a reaction out of her.

Because she was excited and elated and so beyond happy that it was taking a lot of willpower to remain seated and not run off to find Callum.

“Your Highness? Is everything all right?”

She blinked, “Of course.” Rayla offered them a smile. How could it not be, honestly?

And after a couple of recommendations and how they’d like to see her in the span of a few weeks — after all, the babe was still a halfling and the pregnancy was to be monitored constantly for that matter — they bid her goodbye with another well-meaning congratulation on the way.

Rayla couldn’t help the fast pace in which she was walking nor the beaming smile from breaking out.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking nonstop for you. What did the physician say?” She heard Callum’s voice round the corner; the worried tone of her husband of three years was enough to make her smile deepened because he was just the sweetest person ever and she just knows that he’s going to be the best father out there.

And the mere thought was enough to make her heart burst with adoration.

He took a couple of steps forward and placed one hand on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, “Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to catch herself, before she had any time to dwell on how to tell him, but after they were out, she knows that there was no better way, no better time. Because seeing those expressive, loving eyes widen in realization, going through every emotion in the span of a second, how his hand stilled its movement on her cheek and how she heard his breath catch in his throat was as heartwarming as if she’d had outlined a grander plan in advance to break the big news to him.

“Really?” He whispered, barely audible.

She hummed.

“You are pregnant?”

She hummed again.

“There’ll be a tiny, perfect mix of the both of us in a couple of months?”

Rayla nodded unable to keep the grin off her face, her arms coming upwards to lace them loosely around his neck and raising herself on her tiptoes to breath small kisses across his cheek — damn those two inches he had gained on her. Their chests were pressed together, and she felt the deep rumble in his chest that soon turned into a peal of boisterous laughter that surely could be heard through the entire hallway. The sound was too contagious to not let out one of her own.

His arms came to encircle her waist, engulfing her in a tight hug, both of them shaking with laughter and happiness and pure delight.

“We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

They pulled back slightly, faces inches away from each other’s, noses brushing against one another, breaths mingling in their shared space. She wanted to capture this blissful moment in a picture.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smug grin.

“Don’t.” Rayla raised a single brow, looking pointedly at him because she knew where his mind had headed in a matter of seconds. And because she also remembers rather vividly exactly what he had thought about — it had been a very nice anniversary gift, after all. It had carried the promise of fervent love, a burning passion, and a couple’s desire of at last starting a family.

He let out an amused laugh, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I practically saw you thinking about it!” She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff in faux disbelief at her husband’s antics. They locked gazes, grass green meeting amethyst violet, a glimmer in both of them. They couldn’t help the small laugh thereafter.

His eyes softened as the laughter ceased, pulling her closer by the waist and planting one tender kiss on the lips, feeling all the love conveyed in such a small action and trying to reciprocate as much as she was receiving.

“I love you.” She said lovingly when they parted, her hands coming up to cup his jaw in a light grasp.

He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the underside softly, “I adore you.”

Rayla knows that it wouldn’t be easy, parenting — motherhood— never was as the rising self-doubts, the exhaustion of both mind and body, the anxiety of diving into the unknown, and all the possible mistakes that were bound to be made. But, she thinks, as long as they have each other — and everyone else who has been there for that matter — this baby would be raised with abundant love and affection. She'd make sure of it.

It was superfluous to say that this birthday by far had brought her one of her greatest joys. A surprise that couldn’t be topped by any other.

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

One Year

Pairing: Michael Monroe x Reader

A/N: I combined two requests into one for this imagine. A request for a one year anniversary story and a request for what dating Michael might be like. I hope I did both justice...

Today was yours and Michael’s anniversary and you couldn’t be more excited. You had been dating the blonde bombshell for a year now and you could confidently say it was the happiest you had been in your life so far. Being with Michael was like having your own personal cheerleader at all times. His never-ending optimism and excitement for life left you with your own positive outlook and gave you a newfound sense of self-confidence.

When you had first met Michael, you’d been more reserved, stuck in your shell so to say. He was outgoing and talkative and everything you wished you could be. You were instantly drawn to him like a moth drawn to a flame and much to your joy, he was drawn to you in the same way.

Your love and relationship with Michael was intense and passionate, but that was the way Michael did things. He went all in. No matter how big or little the adventure was, he gave it his all. He was passionate to a fault which was something you admired greatly.  He knew what he wanted, and he knew what it took to achieve it. In your eyes, he was nothing short of brilliant.

You recalled vividly the first time he said he loved you.

It was only the second time the two of you had met. You worked as a barista at a local coffee shop, and he had come in for the second time that morning.

“Oh, hello again,” you greeted him as he came up to the counter.

You remembered the blonde stranger from earlier that morning. He had ordered some fancy sugar-filled concoction and had kept a rather upbeat and eager conversation with you as you had made his order. In the end, as he took his drink, he had introduced himself to you and wished you a good day before heading out the door.

“Hi,” he said, standing in front of you once again. “I know this may seem strange, but you just have to believe me on this. I think I love you.”

You were obviously taken back.

“I’m sorry?” you asked. You must have misheard the man.

“I love you,” he said again. “And I know we’ve just met and all, but would you like to go on a date with me tonight?”

Now, you would have normally said no to such a request, but something about this stranger had totally and completely enraptured you. You found yourself wanting to see more of him, wanting to see how this played out. It was completely unlike you.

“Um, sure,” you agreed hesitantly. “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“(Y/N),” Michael repeated with a smile. “Beautiful.”

****

“Babe,” you remember him saying. He was bouncing on his feet as he held up a notebook for you to see. “Look at this. We finished the song! It’s going to be a hit I can just feel it.”

You had only been with him for a couple weeks when his band, Hanoi Rocks, had begun to really take off. It seemed like everyday he was showing you some new idea for the album or for a song or something new he’d learned to do on the harmonica.

You sent him a smile while you quickly read through the finished lyrics he was waving in front of your face.

“These are fantastic Mike,” you said. “Are you going to the studio today to record it?”

Him and his bandmates had been in and out of the studio all week recording songs for their upcoming album.

He nodded his head. “Yep,” he said, “And I want you to come with me.”

You looked up at him with nervous curiosity. You’d never gone to the studio with him before, but that wasn’t what was so frightening about his request. You’d never met his mates before either. Michael had told you all sorts of stories about the rambunctious boys and you were aware that they knew of your existence and relationship with Mike as well, but you were honestly scared to meet them.

“Oh, I don’t know babe,” you said. “What if the guys don’t like me?”

You were surely much different than his friends. With all the tales you had heard about them, they seemed like the complete opposite of you. You were shy and quiet and could be described as demure whilst they were a rowdy bunch of self-proclaimed rockstars. There was no doubt they would find you underwhelming to say the least.

“What?” Michael said, honestly a bit astonished you would think that. To him, you were the greatest thing since sliced bread. “They’ll love you! I’ve told them all about you already.”

Upon seeing your worried and unconvinced expression, he continued.

“(Y/N),” he said, taking your hands into his and planting a quick kiss to the top of each. “I know sometimes you get stressed over these sorts of things, but I promise you it will be fine. They honestly can’t wait to meet you and I can’t wait for all my favorite people to be in one room.”

And just like that, you were agreeing to go with him to the studio. Michael just had a way with you. You didn’t even quite understand it, how he was able to speak directly to your heart. And of course, he had been right about it all being okay. You found yourself becoming fast friends with the rest of Hanoi Rocks and within a couple months of knowing them, could proudly say you saw them each as a brother.

****

“I got you a present,” he had said with a grin on his birthday.

“For me?” you asked.

The two of you had been together for almost eight months now and were hanging around in his bedroom at his flat. The party dedicated to him was still in full-swing downstairs, but he had pulled you away to the side, saying he had something to show you.

“It’s your birthday babe,” you said. “You’re not supposed to get me something.”

“I know,” Michael said, “But I’ve been wanting to give you this for a long time now and it felt like a good excuse to do so today.”

He procured a small box wrapped in twine from behind his back and held it out to you flat on his palm. You regarded him skeptically, but took the offering nonetheless.

Carefully, you unwrapped the small package. Lifting the lid off the box, you looked inside to see a key nestled in it. You took the key out and held it up to examine it further.

“A key?” you asked. “What’s it for?”

You were surprised to look up and see Michael blushing. It wasn’t often that he got nervous.

“It’s for the flat,” he said, biting his lip. “I was hoping you’d move in with me.”

You looked from him to the key and back to him again.

“Are you serious?” you said. “You seriously want me to move in?”

Michael nodded.

“What about the boys?” you questioned.

Michael shared the flat with his bandmates.

“I already asked them, and they said it was fine,” he said. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” you said without a moment’s more hesitation. “Yes, I would love to move in with you.”

Michael wrapped his arms around you at your answer and buried his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm laughter against your skin.

****

You thought back to these moments and all the other wonderful memories from the past year spent with Michael. He was no doubt the love of your life and your future wrapped all up in one.

You looked over in bed at the man at the center of it all. He laid next you, sleeping peacefully. You had been awake for quite some time now, simply admiring him and watching his chest rise and fall with each breath he took.

You briefly wondered what he might be dreaming of before rolling over closer to him and cuddling into his side. You watched as his bleary eyes blinked opened and focused on your face.

“Good morning,” he said, stifling a yawn.

“Morning,” you responded, tracing invisible patterns across his bare chest.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Although still very much tired, Mike responded eagerly.

He hummed contentedly. “Hmmm, do what do I owe the pleasure of being woken up like that to?” he asked.

You smiled. “A year ago,” you said, “You walked into a coffee shop and told me you loved me. Exactly one year ago."

"Is that so?" Michael said, kissing you back just as you had kissed him, giving you no time to answer.

“Has it really been a year already?” he asked, pulling away. “It feels like just last week.”

“Funny how time does that, isn’t it?” you responded.

Michael flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“A year ago, I told you I loved you,” he murmured. “Would you believe me if I said I love you just as much today?”

“Depends,” you responded softly. “Would you believe me if I said I loved you even more?”

[mysmegrace]

hey love, how are you? i was wondering if you could do mc (any gender) and 707 going on a dinner date:)

hello love, i'm excellent (bc of u). of course i can, anything for you :3 i've decided to use they/them pronouns in this fic so it's easier for people to insert their own pronouns and gendered language as well as it being applicable to more people yknow. anyway i hope i did this justice <3

summary: saeyoung and mc got out to dinner to end the day. unbeknown to mc, saeyoung has a surprise to ask you.

words: 1.8k

Elly The Fourth (707 x MC)

---

you knew saeyoung had a tendency of being late, sometimes he’d even push it to the 15-20 minute mark. you vividly remember telling him about it in the past, but you two always came to an agreement. after all, you couldn’t stay mad when he’d grab the cat ears he had laying around, putting them on while puckering his lips to express false innocence.

however, he had failed to hold up your previous agreement of “if you are to be late, let me know beforehand”. passing a new number on the clock every time you looked up, the restaurant continued to populate with no sign of the man you longed for. boy would you let him have it this time.

you needed something new as a form of punishment. something that would make him stick to your agreements. maybe the silent treatment, or perhaps you’d whip him with the belt he spent a ridiculous amount of money on? “wait no... that wouldn’t end well on my end” you thought as your memories reminded you of his sadistic nature.

while trying to come to a consensus, the vermillion haired man entered the establishment. showing off his typical goofy, yet tender, smile as he eyed your sitting position down. you could hear the clicking of his shoes coming closer, but paid no attention as you had heard that the entire evening from strangers surrounding you.

“boo!” you hear suddenly, almost springing out of your seat, partially convinced your heart would jump out of your chest for a split second. however you had no time to take in sudden scare as your body instantly started to heat up. he arrived 25 minutes late and has the audacity to make his grand entrance by frightening you?

being met with silence on his end, he decides to quickly break the tension. “sorry i’m late, it was an accident” he says, only telling half of the truth. it was an accident in the fact that he was late and didn’t intend on being, but wasn’t an accident in the sense that he knew what he was doing beforehand.

however, he would keep that a secret until the time was right. surprises are better if they’re unexpected after all. snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed how your lips haven’t dared to move in the few minutes he’s been here. trying to come up with ways to lighten the mood while getting a response from you, he says “i’m really sorry. please forgive me and talk to me. it was for a good reason, i promise. you’ll find out soon enough”.

watching as your eyes softened and your posture lightened exactly when he was now eye level with you, he takes it as a sign to continue on with the original plan. only hoping your body language was from you being convinced by his words rather than because of your growing disappointment towards him. going to take the seat across from you, you answer “saeyoung, we’ve talked about this. why were you so late?”.

“babe, i can’t tell you yet. it’s a secret, please understand. let’s enjoy what i have planned for now and we can talk about it later, please?” he answered quickly, not giving a moment for him to accidently spill the beans. after a few seconds, he saw the look on your face as you decided to give into his proposal and make amends later.

for the next hour, tonight would strictly be about you two. he loves nothing more. once you give your verbal agreement, he gives back a small smile. one that reads of gratitude. calling the waiter over, you both receive your menus. 

the food all looked so good, but it wasn’t something he’d want everyday. that kind of taste isn’t much appealing to him. after all, he only chose the restaurant because of your open wish to eat there one day. hence why in classic saeyoung style, he decided on honey garlic chicken wings. commoner food, as jumin would say. honey garlic chicken wings, honey buddha chips, close enough.

on the contrary, you were in awe at the food selection. as long as you ate a few things off the menu, you could die happy. yet shock consumed you when your eyes glided across to check out the price. it was incredibly expensive. guilt started eating you up by the second.

you couldn’t ask him to get you something, it was simply too much. your conscience wouldn’t let you. unbeknownst to you, saeyoung noticed your sudden distress. he could read you like the back of his hand. “what’s the matter?” he asked.

taken aback, you responded “well.. everythings so expensive.” you had tried to mask your emotions in the moment, but to no avail. you should’ve known better than to think your love wouldn’t have his eyes on you 24/7. 

saeyoung could sense that was the issue. you had always been hesistant about spending other peoples money, however that just made him love you more. attempting to calm your worries, he says “don’t worry about it. you know i get paid well”.

you paused, thinking about his statement. “i know, but you should put that money towards savings. after all your work is illegal” you respond, after giving it a half-assed thought. your eyes peered up to find the love of your life smirking, just before replying “pshh, laws are just words on a paper”.

you had to admit, that was a playful thing for him to say. so far he had succeeded in his plans of lightening the mood, it being confirmed when you returned his reply with a giggle. god he loved hearing that giggle.

calling the waiter over again, you two placed your orders. meaning now you both were participating in the waiting game. in saeyoung’s mind, this was a perfect opportunity. he would have at least 20 minutes to explain everything he had been planning to.

so, he starts to go for it. opening by saying “so, about why i was late earlier.” now he had your full attention as you were dying to hear his reasoning so you could decide whether or not an ass whooping would be an acceptable punishment for this evenings occurrence.

“i had booked an appointment to sign some paperwork, but the appointment got moved 30 minutes. i didn’t have a choice but to leave you waiting. and i was too caught up in the moment to let you know beforehand” he continued, giving you a second to take in his words.

yet your mind began racing with questions. what paperwork? why did he need an appointment? why would he plan it for today? you left no time to waste before you let the questions out, not wanting to waste a single second.

perfect, he thought. you were going along with what he had planned out to happen beforehand. giving you your much deserved answers, he continues “well, i needed to do it today so i could give you a proper surprise. i never want you to be in any unnecessary stress, hence why i did everything in advance.”

he left you hanging for no more than a second. he loved being able to see the face you made while you were practically on the edge of your seat. he also loved the dramatic effect, the one he’d never be able to nail unless he were an experience actor. nevertheless, it was fun to try.

so to finish his statement, he lets the secret free, exclaiming “since we both have an undying love for cats, i’ve decided to adopt one. we pick her up tomorrow” giving a genuine, ever so loving, smile at the end of the long awaited sentence.

focused on your end of the table, his heart nearly exploded seeing your face go from suspense to pure joy. he couldn’t ask for anything more. you had began to let out an excited scream, only to contain yourself once the table next to you started to stare. however that didn’t stop you picking yourself up to meet the red head sitting across from you, smiling like a saint.

pulling him into a hug, you whispered “we’re really adopting a cat?” as your lips stood 2 inches away from his ear. his head pulled back from the embrace for a quick moment, only to confirm your statement with a nod of happiness. 

standing there in pure bliss, fantasizing about your new life with your fur baby, you found yourself nearing crying from the overwhelming announcement. only to be brought back to reality once the waiter arrived with your meals. you pulled away, only slightly embarrassed, to become your feast.

“i’m glad you’re so excited” saeyoung spoke. god was all too good to him, he thought. you smiled, softly replying “thank you”. your eyes glanced up from your newly delivered meal to find your lover looking no different than a child being delivered delicious ice cream.

“shall we begin our meal then, 606?” he proposed. you nod, picking up the utensil placed to your right. creating the passage way for the two of you to continue your night full of bliss, no more, no less.

as you silently decided against an ass whooping as reasonable punishment.

BONUS: *on the way home*

“saeyoung” you begin, feeling the once scorching sun hit your revealed arm. “do you have a picture of our future daughter?” you ask. after receiving a gentle laugh, your eyes are met with your loves phone. once inspecting the picture, you could feel yourself melt on the spot.

“she’s adorable, isn’t she?” saeyoung asked, taking a notice of the way your eyes lit up like stars at midnight. with an aggressive yet playful nod of confirmation, in the next second he could feel the way your body pushed into his side, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“thank you so much” you let out, barely being heard from muffling yourself in your lovers flesh. although you couldn’t see it, you had a sense of saeyoungs current facial expression.

one full of excitement, love, passion, and warmth. he would treat this cat like his child, you were positive of it. and on the plus side, jumin wouldn’t have to worry about saeyoung trying to get a hold of elizabeth now.

in that moment, almost as if he heard your thoughts, he says “we should name her elizabeth the fourth, elly for short!”. there was the silly, child-like man you loved, you thought. 

for the remainder of the late hours, you would be convincing saeyoung not to name her any variation of the name elizabeth the third. you knew for a fact that letting that name slide would result in a lawsuit by the morning. 

elly the fourth did sound cute though... perhaps you should propose keeping it as a nickname for times jumin isn’t present. 

---

3:07 AST - 07/22/21

[shotosprincess]

Altruistic. — oikawa tooru ♡︎

ALTRUISTIC: showing a disinterested and selfless concern for the well-being of others; unselfish.

⤷ pairing: oikawa tooru ♥︎ fem! reader

⤷ summary: you accidentally get hit by the ball during one of oikawa,, your childhood best friend’s ,, practice games ,, and he immediately leaves to take care of you 🥺🤌

⤷ genre(s): super short one shot w lots of fluff ,, fluff ,, FLUFF!!

⤷ length: 1.7k

⤷ a/n: PLS i stayed up till 6am last night writing this purely bc i absolutely could not sleep without writing a soft moment w oikawa into existence (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

“ Oi! Oikawa! Pass it here! “ The holler echoed through the gym, roaring solidly over the squeak of worn out sneakers twisting against glossy floors.

“ Iwa-chan! “ Oikawa’s smile scintillates with an undeniable anticipation as he pushes against the ball, hands flicking outwards as his toss to the teammate in question proved to be, in fact, successful. He spikes it down, the tremendous force exerted from both parties sending the dull sphere of ivory driving into the ground, leaving their opponents in the blatant, dirty dust.

It smacks right in front of their libero, who was far too stunned to even do so much as react in time. The shrill of a whistle ripples through the air. Seijoh’s side cheers, little praises and compliments slipping out from one teammate to another as back pats and playful head slaps were shared within their brief moment of celebration. The boys prepare themselves for another point to be won, bending their knees in a ‘ ready ‘ stance. Your heart melted. Oikawa’s earthy eyes glinted with a familiar sense of hunger, of true passion. You loved seeing him like this; buzzing and thrumming with such a raw, precise determination. You adored it.

Your hand reaches into the shallow depths of your sweater’s pocket, findling with its contents before finally pulling out your phone to check the time. The serve is hit, and just as your finger sides across the side of the case to actually turn your phone on—

A blinding pain stuns you, striking sharply at the side of your head. You see white, passing out due to the sudden unpleasant sensation. Your body falls limp, lolling to the side of your chair upon impact.

Oikawa’s head snaps in your direction, and his heart stops. He waves a hand dismissively, aggressively, in fact, through the air, signalling some sort of time out for obvious reasons. His stare burned right through the spiker responsible for your unprecedented injury. A dark aura seemed to even envelope him as he did. And in a low, threatening tone:

“ You’ll pay for this. “

Rushedly sprinting to your side, he kneels beside you, cupping your neck with one hand for support and wrapping his other arm beneath your legs. He lifts you up gently, gaze frantically darting from side to side, only to realize that no paramedics of any sort were currently present. A scoff leaves him, sending one last protective glare towards the hazel-haired player.

“ Continue the game without me. I’m taking her home. “

There is a prolonged beat of silence until he leaves, and the gym slowly begins to erupt with laughter and boisterous comments once again. He carefully places you in his car, tucking your bag of belongings in the empty space beneath your feet. The jangling key turns and clicks, the engine booms to life.

And he’s off.

“ Are you...Are you ok? “

Your eyes flutter open, lids still heavy, to the blurred sight of a very pretty boy with a very pretty smile. Chestnut swoops of hair frame his face in a fluffy frame. There is a certain kindness in his eyes. That’s when everything comes rushing back to you, and you realize the pretty boy before you is none other than the man who has put up with you ever since the first grade, Oikawa Tooru. And judging by your surroundings, you were in...his room?

“ O-Oikawa? “

“ Hey, you’re awake. Just in time too. I need to clean your wound. “

The skin near his eyes creases ever so slightly as his lips form one of the warmest smiles you had ever seen. He seemed...relieved. By an almost-unnatural amount.

His fingers move to tuck a straying tendril of hair behind your ears, letting the back of his hand delicately brush against the side of your face.

“ What...what happened exactly? “

Your memory is hazy, all you remembered was a sudden searing sting, which only evolved into a copiously throbbing ache. And then nothing.

“ Yahaba was being an idiot and accidentally hit you in the head with his serve. “

He pushes the heel of his palm against his head, groaning into it in annoyance and frustration. You say nothing, simply making a little “ oh “ face. His eyes close, a deep inhale clearing his thoughts.

For some reason, your eyes were immediately drawn to the abundant rise of his chest. You did not know why.

He puts his hand down, flashing you a half smile.

“ Well. It can’t be helped. You were passed out on the ride back. You’re in my house right now, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, ok? No flying objects can hurt you here. “

The lighthearted laugh which follows is accompanied by an odd longing to keep looking into his eyes. He pulls out a small medical kit from the drawer behind him, presenting a ball of slightly frayed cotton. It clumps together as he saturates it with the contents of an alcohol agent, the blue liquid quickly bleeding into the white.

You instinctively wince as his tweezers take the ball between its thin metal prongs, gently pressing it against your head. A harsh sting pricks through your skin. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut, and your head drops down to hide your face, embarrassed. The pressure immediately ceases.

“ Sorry. I forgot to warn you when I was going to put it. “

“ No, no that’s alright! It just...took me by surprise, that’s all. “

You will yourself to muster up a reassuring smile, though the subtle quivering at the ends of your lips didn’t exactly make it very convincing.

Despite noticing this, his lips pursed together in an emphasized tightness and he nods, continuing the process. But this time around he’s more gentle with his movements, soft and cautious, so as to make it as painless as possible. His brows furrowed together in deep concentration, one almost comparable to the kind which he lost himself so many times in, whilst analyzing videos of volleyball games with that unmatched meticulous which you had always admired so.

Oikawa Tooru had rarely ever been one to be gentle, tender. Yet alas here he was, being as gentle with you as was humanly possible for him. It was confusing and addicting all the same. And if you thought about it enough, one could probably say that it was nothing short of a miracle, that very miracle being the cheesy, yet insatiable concept of love.

Once he finally lifts the cotton from your face, he disposes of the remains, chucking them casually into a nearby dustbin as it teeters back and forth a little with the force. He then takes out a small bandage, unfolding it with care. The precision he had acquired through volleyball was blatantly evident as he carefully spreads the sticky fabric atop your wound, effectively patching it up. A cool, almost healing, feeling hits said wound, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was purely because of the bandaid, or if it was because of the hands which placed it. His hands. Swept up completely in the dazed state he had you in, you decided on the latter.

Those same hands, which were whirling through the dreaminess of your thoughts, then cupped your face, turning your gaze towards him. A comforting, rather than cauterizing, warmth floods to your cheeks, flushing them with a vivid rose as your heart flutters vigorously with the sparks of a forming hearth. His eyes, brown as chestnuts stored away in hollowed trees, bore deeply into yours, with a sentiment you had never known. Without another thought, his lips silently press against your forehead. The top of his head rests against yours, careful not to touch the wound, neither one willing to let go of this moment.

Admittedly, you hadn’t ever quite expected Oikawa to be someone capable of such sentiment, nor had you ever thought that he would be the type of person to give up his game, and especially not for you. Sure, you were close, best friends even. But you knew better than anyone just how much he put into volleyball. He loved that game more than anything and anyone. That included you. Or at least that was what you had thought before now. It was almost shameful for you, in a way. You had always attached such a perception onto him, and sometimes it even made you envy him and his love for the sport.

Sometimes...sometimes you wished he loved you even half as much as he did volleyball.

But now...you didn’t know what changed, if something even had. Either way, you were seeing this completely different side to him which you had never even thought existed until now—a caring, altruistic Oikawa. Not the “ great king “, nor Seijoh’s number one. Just Oikawa. And though he most definitely was both of those things, he was also, apparently, selfless. Or at least as selfless as Oikawa could get. You knew how much gravity his games hold to him, so the fact that he gave it all up today just to take care of you...it truly was a shock.

His skin against yours was a salve within itself, yet it was the intrinsic tenderness in which he held you that really struck you as odd. Well, not necessarily odd, per say, but rather, different. And not in a bad way either. The absolute and utter timidness of the very gesture held something so...intimate between the two of you. It fanned the embers awakening in your heart, urging the orange specks to roar with breath. You’d only ever seen his rough, callous-littered hands hit roughly against the volleyball. It was always hit, hit, hit. When you were just little kids in elementary, you vividly remember walking by his nearby house everyday as you came home from school, only to hear the thumping of volleyballs against a wall as he practiced tirelessly to fulfill the dreams which he yearned so longingly for. Sometimes it would even stretch out into the late hours of the night. It astonished you, how one could commit so fervently to a sport.

And now here those same hands were, encasing your face within the unanticipated serenity of their touch, holding you with a rare tenderness. Tears of relief, of hope and of some other strong unknown feeling, gloss thickly over your eyes. He moves his thumb to wipe them away.

You liked this Oikawa. Sure, you loved the Oikawa who played rough and strategized with his team in such a laudable manner, but you also liked this side to him. The new, gentle side. This was an Oikawa you had never met before, and yet you already felt yourself falling in love, never to return.

And why would you?

[aalissy]

Roses

Anddd day 29 is doneee!! But we only have two more days of May which is crazy to meee. Anywho, it’s another reveal so lemme know what you think about it <3. Also, I can’t wait to watch Optigami tomorrow bc that episode looks sooo funnnn!!

AO3

Marinette was focused on her sewing, her tongue stuck out in concentration as she sunk into her work. Chat wandered around her room, keeping her company as he looked around at everything. He started flipping through one of her notebooks but she paid it no mind, knowing that her diary was locked up safe. 

He spoke up, though, his voice interrupting her work as he asked, “You kept this?”

Quickly, Marinette lifted her head up, blinking in shock at what she saw in his hands. It was a single, pink rose. Chat was moving it around in his fingers, staring at it with a small, soft smile. That was one of the roses that he had given her. Which meant that he had found...

Marinette scrambled out of her chair, wanting to rush over to him and yanking the notebook out of his hands. A red flush lit up her cheeks as she watched his expression carefully. Chat’s head was tilted in curiosity as he looked back at her. Taking a few steps near him, she tried to speak casually, “Yeah, I-I did. It, um, was a funny day and I wanted to remember it.”

“Aw, purrincess,” he purred, twirling the rose around. “That’s really sweet of you. I didn’t realize that was a day that we’d want to remember. Especially when your dad got akumatized.” Chat shivered, scrunching his nose up in displeasure. 

Marinette nibbled on her lip as she stared down at the notebook in his hands. Why had she put those roses in there? That had been such a bad idea. Taking another slow step towards him she chuckled anxiously, “Yeah... I guess I probably shouldn’t have kept it. J-just give me the rose and the notebook and I’ll get rid of both of them.”

Chat’s eyebrow rose slowly at her words. His smile from before disappeared as he glanced back down at the flower in his hands. Slowly, he shook his head. “I didn’t mean that you had to get rid of it. I’m actually really glad that you kept it. I had furgotten about this day.”

Marinette winced. She didn’t know how that was possible. She remembered that day vividly. Especially after she had realized that she did have a small, tiny, little crush on Chat Noir. Swallowing the large lump in her throat, she reached out, gesturing for him to put the book in her outstretched palm. “Right, well, I’ll just put it back then.”

He shrugged once before opening the book again, about to slide the pink rose back into place. Chat paused though and she felt herself freeze as well. Tensing up, she prayed that he hadn’t found what she had been trying to hide. When he lifted his head back up to connect their gazes, she knew he had. 

Slowly, in his opposite hand, he lifted up a red rose, holding it up next to the pink one. Marinette gulped harshly, wondering if he had connected the dots. How had this happened to her? She was usually so careful but she had never expected Chat to find that book. 

His gaze darted from rose to rose before he looked back up at her rather desperately. “Marinette,” Chat mumbled her name quietly, his lips parting like he had more to say.

She shifted uncomfortably, glancing away as she tapped her index fingers together. How was it roses that led to the big reveal? Coughing once, she wondered if she should attempt to deny what he was already thinking. Marinette took one look into his glassy eyes and realized that probably wouldn’t help her. Trying to give him a weak smile that turned into a grimace, she said, “I, um, wanted to keep that one too. That was a pretty special day.”

Immediately, Marinette was wrapped into a large hug. She exhaled harshly as Chat practically squeezed her to death, whispering, “It is you.” 

She laughed lightly, playing with one of his ears as she gave him a large smile. “You’re sort of killing me here, kitty. I can’t exactly breathe.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, putting her back down on the ground as he looked at her rather sheepishly. “I just wasn’t expecting to find that in there. Especially on a rather furgettable night like tonight.”

Marinette chuckled awkwardly, worrying her lip again as she stared up at him. “Neither was I. I don’t even know how you found that notebook. I usually just stash it away in one of my drawers.”

“I’m glad I did, though,” Chat spoke eagerly, placing his hands on her shoulders as he squeezed them delicately. “Marinette, you’re Ladybug.”

“Shh, Chaton,” she shot him a small glare. “They’re secret identities for a reason. You can’t just say things like that.”

Instead of looking guilty or ashamed, though, he simply continued to stare at her with a smile stretched across his face. In fact, his smile grew after she spoke and he stared at her in amazement, “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It seems so obvious now.”

Marinette flushed, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. Chat was gazing down at her in a way that she had been wishing for for so long. With a shy giggle, she eventually sucked in a deep breath for courage. “I-I’m glad this happened, to, Chat. Even if neither of us expected it like this, I knew that our reveal had to happen soon.”

His eyes widened as he seemed to realize something. Chat gestured to his ring as he asked, “D-does that mean it’s alright if I reveal myself to you, then?”

“Only if you want to.” She gave him a rather timid grin, anticipation swirling in her gut. Could this really be about to happen? She and Chat had been partners for so long that it almost felt surreal to know his true identity.

“Plagg, claws in.”

On pure instinct, Marinette quickly shut her eyes as a flash of green light lit up her room. She kept them closed until a soft, ungloved hand brushed delicately against her cheek. “You can open your eyes now, purrincess. It’s alright.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she felt her mouth fall open in shock. There, standing in front of her was Adrien. She would have thought she was dreaming if it wasn’t for the small kwami floating above him, demanding cheese. 

This time, Marinette wrapped him in a large hug, feeling butterflies dance in her belly as she realized that they had been dancing around each other this whole time. Acting on instinct and a rush of adrenaline again, she couldn’t stop herself from connecting their mouths together. She felt a small brush of satisfaction as he squeaked lightly before kissing her deeply in return. 

Pulling back after a few moments to pant for air, Marinette murmured, “Was that alright, kitty?”

“That was purrfect, Marinette.”

Those were the last words she heard before he pulled her into another passionate kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck with a beaming smile, she thanked her past self for putting both of those roses in a notebook. They could have been dancing around each other for much longer if she hadn’t.

[robotslenderman]

Sascha! :3

:DDD

SPECIAL INTEREST TIME, BITCHES

How I feel about this character

I used to not give a shit but then you sucked me into them how dare you

They are baby

Mass murdering horrible torturer baby

They've... been through a hell of a lot of trauma and have to process it. They were stuck in that trauma for centuries. Now Ilias is apparently back but he died in their arms, they saw him turn to ash and they have to be dealing with the trauma of that, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Ilias cel Frumos, Beckett (but like in a snarky enemies to lovers kind of way), and ofc my own OCs Rose and Nastasya. Wasn't sure about Nastasya/Sascha for a while but suddenly something seemed to click the other night and I think they'd actually work very well together -- their personalities complement each other, I think. Ilias is warm to Sascha's cold, extroverted to Sascha's introvert, but Nastasya is playful to Sascha's seriousness, joyful to their solemnity, vibrant to their reserved nature.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Even before Rose became a romantic partner I shipped the two of them nonromantically too.

Also I like the idea of Sascha being a tsundere Vitriolic Best Buds with Beckett.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that they would have responded far, far worse to the appearance of Elias Athanasios than I see fandom talk about (sorry, Ry XD). Like, not even as bad as I've mentioned before -- way worse.

(SORRY RY I'M HAVING A SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT)

To start: there is no way in hell they're not dealing with hella trauma after the Dracon. That everyone agrees on, but lemme go into detail:

Like imagine not just seeing your lover die in your arms but being unable to really process it because your consciousness just got smooshed with someone else's, with someone who's mourning his own lovers and didn't really care about yours. Oh, and that person's a suicidal but also sadistic psychopath.

So you spend a few centuries torturing people, shit you wouldn't have done before except in extreme circumstances (if at all) and quite enjoying it, and then --

And then you get separated from the part of you that was okay with it because oh, it was actually the other guy who was cool with that stuff, and you were trapped with the brain of the guy who enjoyed everything you did and you felt everything he did as you did it and thought you wanted it, thought you enjoyed it, thought it was you who decided it, but because you were so enmeshed you don't know that you DIDN'T, maybe it WAS you, can you really blame the Dracon?

And maybe it was really you who made those decisions, because after that long fused together... sure, you're separated physically.

But are you really?

You've been together for centuries. After that long you can't have known where one of you began and the other ended, and it must have influenced your true personality. I mean, stick people in a room of people different to them and they adapt their personality and beliefs pretty quickly, like weeks to months, without outside influence.

Like, how much fucking worse would that be if you were actually stuck inside their head, for CENTURIES???

You're apart now, but in a sense you'll always be together.

Stick the both of you in a room and you'd probably talk like a pair of Creepy Twins. You'll finish each other's sentences because you'll both be on the same wavelength, you'll have the same idiosyncratic habits -- scratching your nose with the same finger of the same hand, tilting your head the same way when you think somebody's being annoyingly obtuse, tapping your fingers the same way on the desk when you're thinking.

You've been intertwined for so long that you probably have the same impulses now, the same thoughts, with only the most foundational aspects to the both of you separating you -- the Dracon's still got his sadism, and Sascha is still introverted, so that'll influence subtle differences.

But it'll be buried under seven hundred years of habits you developed together, opinions and thoughts and aversions and passions you developed together, working in sync for every second of existence, dreaming the same dreams, moving the same hands and fingers, doing the same deeds.

You were a gestalt. Are you no longer one just because you're apart? Are you really separated when you were one for so long? Are you even two people any more, or are you just one person with two bodies, now?

It's going to take decades to bring yourself back to a functional level after the identity crisis that causes, and that's not even counting the trauma of the Eldest, or the Dracon's trauma that you remember just as vividly as if it were your own, or the trauma of what Symeon did to you.

You will probably never, ever recover.

There's traumatic events people went through that follow them for decades that only happened over a few hours at most.

How can you come back from seven hundred years?

In a way, it would have been emotionally better for them to have stayed fused to the Dracon forever. At least they would have thought they were themself, then. At least they were used to it. At least they didn't have a conscience. At least they didn't feel as used because half of them was doing the using, if initially unwillingly. They were one; there was no conflict, just two people so in sync they may as well have been one.

Then to add insult to injury, right after the Dracon's pulled from you, a guy identical to the lover you witnessed die in your arms shows up trying to get your attention. That timing is suspicious AF, and any hope Sascha might have had of coming to terms with Ilias's death on their own time comes crashing down as this redhead just casually waltzes on in and just mashes Sascha's trauma buttons by existing, by looking just like him and acting like him and sounding like him and having the same interests as him and and and --

And now half of them is gone. But also -- not gone, never going, never leaving, who are they now? They're missing half of themself but also probably feeling like they'll never be their real self again. Were they ever really Sascha, when that was a name they took on side by side with the Dracon? But how can they be Myca when Myca is seven hundred years away, when he died the moment Ilias did?

Maybe it was Myca who died in his lover's arms, not the other way around.

I think on the outside Sascha would pretend to be furious at Elias Athanasios for posing as their lover, for having the gall to pose as someone they saw turn to ash, but deep down?

I think they're fucking terrified of him.

Because of the traumatic memories he brings back. Because he knows so much about Ilias and Sascha can't figure out who he "really" is and what his true motivations are.

Because after everything Symeon did, after everything the Dracon and the Eldest did, after the evidence in front of Sascha's eyes that Ilias was dead, dead, dead, how can they not be terrified that this isn't another attempt to manipulate them and put them at the complete and utter mercy of another Methuselah or Elder or worse for another few centuries, when they were only JUST set free?

Their nights as the Angel of Caine are done. They've been manipulated so long and now there's someone else using the person that they loved the most as bait to draw them out. Someone they know for certain did not survive. For their own survival, they can't do anything but disappear because given the forces that has had power over them before, they can't take any risks with this one. Sascha keeps trying to find out who he really is and if he's working for someone, what his angle is, but this time their brilliance is getting them nowhere and they cannot find a single scrap of a clue who Elias Athanasios really is, because all evidence points to him being the real thing but he can't be because THEY SAW HIM DIE.

And here Athanasios is, continuing to try to lure them out.

He's convinced Beckett, one of the smartest people Sascha knows, that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Rose that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Sascha's dumbass Vykosovich descendants that he's the real deal -- particularly the descendant that's their biographer, the descendant whose made it her life's work to know everything there is to know about Sascha Vykos. And Athanasios has direct access to her.

He's getting closer and closer to Sascha.

The walls are closing in again.

So, my unpopular opinion?

Sascha Vykos is the most terrified they've ever been in their existence.

(Second opinion, which I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but -- since they used their deadname for centuries before changing it I reckon they'd actually be pretty fine with Ilias still calling them Myca. But, you know, only Ilias, and anyone else gets turned inside out. Not even Rose would get that privilege.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Not exactly answering the question but I am dreading the release of the V5 Sabbat book because I'm so scared they're going to completely ignore what BJD did with Sascha and go back to making them a villain.

Also worried that Sascha's canonically followed the Beckoning. I reckon they'd nope the fuck out of it after what happened in BJD. Something strange trying to manipulate them again? Fuck no.

[daddyjackfrost]

The Gods- small drabbles pt 4 (Athena)

warnings: *mention of rape*, victim blame

‘A girl sat in a dimly lit cave on the outskirts of Libya. The stone walls were adorned with art from around the world. Statues littered across the entrance and the sides of the cave. Torches made of Hestia’s hearth littered the cave.

The girl sat on cushioned rocks, quite used to the numb feeling the stone had to offer.

Stheno and Euryale’s statues stood proud, right in front of the girl. She had asked if those were actually her sisters, and Medusa had only shaken her head, replying, “No, dear. They faded away a long time ago. I made these out of memory.” 

Medusa, sat in front of the girl, a cup of tea in her hands. The Gorgon’s posture was relaxed, a rare sight. 

The girl observed her friend. Medusa’s skin glistened with a sheen of green, matching the head of snakes that quietly watched the girl. Even as a monster, the girl thought Medusa was beautiful. Medusa’s large wings were gently tucked behind her back. Glasses made of stone sat on Medusa’s nose. She had made them for when the girl visited her. How terrible would it be if she turned her only friend to stone?

The girl cleared her throat, catching the attention of the Gorgon. “Medusa, may I ask you a question?”

The centuries-old Gorgon smiled, stretching muscles she rarely used, and showed her slight sharpened teeth. 

“You may ask me two.”

The girl’s lips tipped upwards when she heard the slight husk and hiss of Medusa’s voice. It didn’t matter how many years she had heard her voice, it still sent shivers down her spine.

“I apologize if I anger you, but I need to know.” The girl took a small pause, letting Medusa register her words. “What exactly had happened after Athena had found you and Poseidon?” 

The Gorgon inhaled a sharp breath. More than half the snakes on her head hissed at the girl for causing their mistress distress. The girl just sat still, keeping her composure. She didn’t want to trigger any unwanted feelings for Medusa but she needed to know Athena’s part. 

Medusa leaned forward in her seat, clutching the cup in her hand tighter. Her long talon-like nails scraped the cup, adding to the scratches that had gathered over the centuries. Medusa was not surprised at the question her mortal friend had asked her. 

The girl was always so curious. Drinking up any information she could receive. Especially if it had to do with the Olympian Gods. Monsters and deities all alike had learned of the girl’s keen attention on gaining any leverage she could find. In a world where everything was controlled by a God, knowledge was the only thing the girl had as a weapon. 

The girl leaned back in her chair, trying to hide her smile. She was going around the Greek list of deities. She had promised herself she would take apart God by God until they were nothing but their flaws, and that is exactly what she will do. She had already torn apart Aphrodite, and she felt nothing but content that she did. 

The Goddess of passion and love had not left her temple in days. According to Ares, she was in ‘deep thought.’ The girl knew she had caused a break in the front Aphrodite had created, and she could not have been more proud. The Goddess had caused her much pain, and now the mortal was returning the favor. 

“Why do you ask?”

The hiss of her words had come out much more tauntingly. Medusa knew of the girl’s plan, and she supported the silly mortal with her entire being. Medusa wanted to see nothing more than the Gods who had caused her so much suffering to feel pain. She wanted them ruined. Medusa wanted to see Athena and Poseidon suffer. She wanted to violate Poseidon in ways she had dreamed of. She wanted to pick every hair off of Athena’s scalp, smiling as the Goddess withered in pain. 

The girl shrugged. She swirled the liquid in her cup mindlessly. She knew she was alone here, safe, yet she would be a fool not to be cautious. The Gods were sly beings.

“You know why.”

Medusa grinned. It was sadistic and filled with promise. The girl smiled and leaned forward, ready to take in every word the Gorgon had to offer.

She would use Medusa’s words against Athena and make the Goddess spiral. The girl had an idea of Athena’s personality. The Goddess would, as smart as she was, not be able to see her demise coming.

Medusa reached up and petted some of the snakes that had remained quiet. Small hisses filled the air and Medusa sucked in a deep breath. It had been some time since she had vividly recalled that horrid day. Medusa remembered how she called out to Athena. Begged the Goddess for aid and forgiveness.

“It was a bright day. I was alone in the temple, tending to all my responsibilities.” Medusa wet her green, chapped lips. “He came out of nowhere. If it weren’t for the look in his eyes, I would have thought I had a chance at fighting back.” 

The girl listened attentively. Besides the information, she wanted her friend to talk about what had happened. The girl knew, better than others, how it felt to keep things quiet. She couldn’t even imagine how Medusa had felt all these millennial's. 

                                           ***

The girl walked with a skip in her step. Not only had she got to visit Hades, but she was on her way to destroy another God.

Mount Olympus slightly shook under the weight of the girl’s intentions. The mountain seemed to know exactly what the girl had come to do, and it couldn’t stop her. Not when she commanded it. The mountain didn’t warn the Gods, because it too had gotten sick of the deities. 

The girl walked with her head up and her shoulders back. She walked with no hesitation because she knew that in the world of Olympians and deities, everything that fell under the second category stood with her. 

The girl stood in front of Athena’s temple. A beautiful structure made of marble stood before her. The girl didn’t get any time to fully appreciate the temple, because Athena had already called her to enter.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

The girl walked right into the center of the temple. Walls of books aligned the walls. Ancient Greek weapons were all polished, spread across the marble walls. 

Athena’s back was to the girl. As expected. The Goddess wore a traditional white cloth with a belt made of pure Olympian treasure. 

Athena turned around and the girl’s eyes widened and her lips parted in awe. She would never get over the Goddess’s eyes. They were pools of an oncoming storm, diminutive and vindictive, keen but pleasant. They were always calculating, and the girl always felt scrutinized under the Goddess’s gaze. 

The girl straightened her shoulders, smoothing out her sundress. She was here to talk to Athena, and that’s what she was going to do. 

“I came to talk to you.” Athena smiled at the girl. The smile was soft, inviting. “I actually wanted to tell you a story.”

At this, Athena raised her eyebrows. Athena and the girl had a nice relationship, that was before the girl found out the Goddess was involved in her family’s murder. Both women used to exchange stories. 

Athena nodded and motioned for the girl to sit. The girl sat across from Athena, chin up and her posture relaxed. She had to play her cards right. She had to make sure she lured Athena in, and then used her lack of compassion to get her to spiral.

The Goddess sat, poised and with perfection. She had chosen to wear more traditional clothing, instead of her regular armor. She was glad the girl had stopped by. It had been too long since she had gotten to speak with the mortal woman. 

“Now,” Athena snapped her fingers, and two cups of Ambrosia and mortal delights appeared on the table. “This story?”

The girl smiled. “Right, yes. Well, it is a story, but I’m telling you this because I would like to know about your opinion.” 

Athena brought a small Belgium chocolate to her lips. “A mortal story?”

The girl nodded but internally shook her head. A fool is what the Goddess was. Could she not see the turmoil behind the girl’s eyes? The pure malice that shined in her eyes and behind every action? Could the Goddess of wisdom not understand how unwise it was to let the girl speak? Did she not get a warning from Aphrodite? 

The girl leaned back and laced her fingers together. “This is a story of a woman who was wronged by those she trusted.”

Athena’s eyes shined as she leaned forward, intrigued already. “Is there something to solve at the end?”

The girl contemplated for a moment. Solve? Not entirely. But there was the question of right and wrong, and she would make sure Athena answered. 

“Not entirely, but there is a question I would like to ask at the end.”

Athena nodded and waved for the girl to continue. 

“Long ago, a woman took in one girl. This girl needed guidance, shelter, and food, and the woman wanted to protect her.”

“Is this the concept of adoption?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, like you raised Erichtonius.” 

Athena nodded, understanding. The girl needed a concept that was close enough to Medusa’s case but did not raise any red flags for the Goddess.

“Now this girl, she was beautiful, but she was loyal to her woman. She did whatever she could do to serve the woman who protected her well. One day, however, the woman’s uncle came to visit. He had heard of this girl his niece had taken in and come to see her for himself.” 

The girl watched as Athena took in her words greedily. Once Athena knew there was a question to answer, she wanted to make sure she answered correctly.

“The woman went to the market, and in the meantime, the uncle approached the girl. Now, she wasn’t a child, but it was still wrong. The girl fought, called out to her woman, but the man was stronger. He violated the girl’s virgin body in the house she had deemed her safe haven.”

The girl watched as Athena’s eyebrows furrowed and how she slowly straightened up. This is the moment of truth, the girl thought. 

Athena frowned a bit. “The girl let herself lose her virginity?”

The girl’s blood boiled. She clenched her fists, her nails piercing the skin of her palm. This is why Athena had never been a Goddess for the women. Why she was loathed by all women alike. The girl couldn’t understand how the Goddess of law and justice could be so unjust. 

“Do not interrupt me,” The girl sneered. The Goddess’s eyes lit with fire at the disrespect but she said nothing. Athena would have turned the girl into a dagger, but she couldn’t, and that made the Goddess angry.

“The woman came home to the sight of her girl no longer a virgin. She didn’t spare her uncle a glance and chose to punish the girl. She turned the girl away.” 

The girl leaned back and tilted her head, sizing down the Goddess. “My question for you, Athena, is, was it just for the woman to punish the girl?”

The girl wished she could have taken a photo of Athena’s confused face. She knew Apollo would have enjoyed the look of bewilderment on his sister’s face, but Apollo wasn’t here. 

“The woman turned away the girl, correct?” The girl nodded, interested to see how Athena would respond.

“It’s simple then. The woman turned away the girl to protect her from the uncle.”

The girl nodded, expecting as much. “Turning her away seems reasonable, correct.” 

Athena opened her mouth to speak, but the girl slammed her hand down on the table, causing the Goddess to flinch.

“Tell me then, Athena, why you could not do the same. Tell me why you chose to curse Medusa to a life of misery. Was her rape not enough punishment?”

The Goddess’s eyes lit up and a scowl overtook her once peaceful face. “Tread very carefully, mortal.”

The girl smirked and crossed her arms. “Answer me, Athena.”

The Goddess would not back down, she was too proud for that. “I cursed Medusa to protect her.”

The girl leaned back in her chair. She could see how flustered the Goddess was becoming. Athena was not used to being questioned. 

“Do you know what I think, Athena? Well, I’ll tell you.” The girl smiled a smile so threatening and full of promise that Athena felt a prickle of nervousness. 

“I think you cursed Medusa out of jealousy. Medusa sought your counsel, and yet you cursed her. Medusa originally promised herself to you, but her promise to you came undone when Poseidon raped her. One of the staples of being an Olympian god's mate was that once claimed, they were bound to be mates forever. Isn’t that right, Athena?” Athena nodded once. Her grey eyes blazed like a storm.

“You felt betrayed by Medusa since Poseidon claimed her, even though Medusa promised herself to you. In turn, Athena, you would feel inclined to lash out in anger against Medusa for this development.” 

Athena shook her head furiously. Athena had not thought about Medusa in eons, and this mortal girl was making her question everything. 

“What is it, Athena? Are you so out of your emotions that you can’t even admit it?”

Athena furiously bellowed, causing the temple to shake. “You watch your mouth, mortal.”

The girl smiled. “Or what? Will you turn me into a monster? Or a spider?” 

“Face it, Athena. There’s a reason you’re not liked by many women. Not like Artemis is. Don’t you wonder why that is? You’ve always favored men over women, haven’t you? Isn’t that why you sent Perseus after Medusa? Did you hate the Gorgon so much? Was jealousy that overwhelming for you? What was it, Athena? Was it Medusa’s hair? Was it the fact that people came to see her and not you?”

Athena felt spiraled. She had never been disrespected like this. The girl was opening old wounds and it was causing the Goddess to think emotionally. The girl had figured out Athena. The Goddess lacked compassion, she was too ruled by intellect,  the Goddess was too out of touch was her emotions, and she was not immune to envy and prone to quick, brutal vengeance.

“If not Medusa, let’s talk about Arachne. You remember her, don’t you? Granted, she should not have challenged you, but I heard from a little spider that you were enraged that her tapestry was perfect, while yours was not.” 

Athena didn’t speak. She couldn’t fathom coherent thought. The girl had ripped apart any logic that had grounded the Goddess for centuries. Athena hadn’t been in a situation where her intelligence had been questioned, or where she felt that painful pull in her chest. 

The girl pushed her chair back and stood up, she could see the unrest in Athena’s eyes.

“I...I have always done what I believed was right.”

The girl looked down at the Goddess. The girl had never felt so powerful. To look down on such a proud Goddess was a moment the girl was sure she would never get to experience again. Athena’s eyes were wide and swirled with uncertainty. It was an amusing sight.

“You’re a God, Athena.” The girl took a few steps and then paused. She turned her head back slightly, seeing Athena’s hunched figure from the corner of her eye. 

“You have no morality. No judgment of right or wrong.” 

The girl walked out of the temple, leaving Athena behind. She could feel the temple walls and grounds shake. Athena was angry, except she hadn’t the slightest clue at what.

Grinning like Dionysus after some wine, the girl walked down the path from Athena’s temple. She had pushed Athena away from intelligence, questioned her wisdom, and forced her to feel something. She couldn’t have done anything else. Athena was too proud and confident in her actions. She had supported all the heroes and resulted in vengeance too quickly.

The only two small pressure points the girl had were Medusa and Arachne, and now she had used them. 

As the girl walked, Hestia watched from afar. She had felt it when the girl arrived and from the glint in her eyes, she knew the girl had chosen her next victim. 

Hestia’s eyes narrowed at Athena’s temple. She could see the fumes that they released, and she understood what had happened.

Hestia watched as the girl began to skip down towards her. The Goddess crossed her arms and patiently waited for the girl. 

“Hestia.” The girl stopped, stared.

Hestia smiled at the girl, though it was small and accusing. “What have you done now, girl?”

The girl just shrugged, her lips curled up in a wicked smile. “What I promised to do.”

Hestia dropped her arms with a sigh. She began to walk, motioning for the girl to follow. Both women walked side by side, towards Hestia’s hearth. 

“How did you do it?”

The girl pursed her lips. She knew she could tell Hestia, she just didn’t trust the location. Anyone could have been listening, and she did not need Zeus’s keen eyes on her.

More than they already were.

“It was quite easy, actually.” The girl responded. When Hestia said nothing, the girl continued. “You all have your traits. Athena, for example, was too ruled by intellect, which was her downfall.”

Hestia slightly nodded. The Goddess was disturbed by the girl's success but also amazed. She was the one who had implanted the idea to go after the Gods, she, however, did not expect the girl to do so well. 

“Careful, girl. You may have broken Aphrodite and Athena, but you have a tough road ahead of you. Know your enemies and keep them close.”

The girl nodded. She knew all of this already. “I’ll be fine.”

“You seem confident.”

The girl sighed, except this one was different. It was one of tiredness and sorrow. Hestia recognized this sigh. She had, after all, heard it for almost two centuries now. 

“When you can’t die, not even by the Gods, you pick up some confidence.”

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

- a small drabble from a book i have yet to write

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @mayplesyrup @demigod-groupchat @wolfies-love-reading-too

@addicedtoeverythinganime

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

[honeyandhondewberries]

A fic idea for u.... Leon’s got a bit of a wee crush on you, a trainer at Wyndon stadium. One night he uses the group showers at the gym, only for YOU to also be there even tho it’s late. And he’s a dumb himbo and trying not to ogle you and show u how embarrassed and tense he is as you full on get naked and shower with him and try to talk to him all casually . Hoo hoo!

oohoooo steamy yes our good friend tension. Some Spice in the midst of the Sugar. This lil fic isn’t explicit (& still follows my Rules of no NSFW), but i’ll give it an unofficial T+ rating since the imagery is more vivid than some may be comfortable with. If you don’t like reading about non-explicit bein nekked/suggestive themes/or being the focus of some champion fantasies, don’t read past the line :)

Part 2: A Few Degrees Hotter

~~

Steam (LeonxReader)

You.

Wet. Dripping. Panting.

Your eyes, your smile, your body.

Here with him.

What if you were? 

He could trail his hands down your body, press you against the shower tiles, corner you between the wall and the translucent partition, then he could kiss and nip and suck everything about you. 

All the while wet, dripping, panting.

What if you whispered his name? 

What if he kissed you, soft and slow, what if you trembled at his touch? What if he could feel your lips, pressed against his, between his, feel your breath on his skin. He could start at your lips, then trail down. He could drag his lips down your neck, your throat, your collarbone, bare like that. What if you raised your hands over his shoulders, what if he trailed his fingers down your sides? What if he made you shiver, even with the hot water of the showerhead running over you?

Leon slams his knee into a bench, then jolts himself out of his fantasy with a hiss.

Immediately his face flares red with shame at how easily those lewd thoughts of you took over his mind. In a place as public as the public Wyndon Stadium showers… That was not a good risk to take. He tosses his gym bag onto the bench, then his hat, and he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. He takes a quick glance around.

There’s no one here, and it’s so after hours that even the cleaning crew has gone home.

…It’s late. And he’s alone. Maybe he could just…

No. No. Not in a public shower, at his job no less, what if someone came in?

He thought he was getting better at this, of shoving away those thoughts of you. 

And you didn’t even know. 

It took a lot for him crush on someone, and yet you waltzed right in like it was your job to make him a stuttering mess. And how you would tease him. No one else had the gall besides his close friends, and yet, you seemed to get away with it every time. Leon was usually quick with banter himself, but the second he met you, you immediately one-upped him, then one-thousand-upped him, and successfully ran him over with your wit and your charm.

Leon sighed, peeled off his sweaty shirt that clung to his body and flung it onto the bench. Maybe a shower would help clear his mind, though his mind seemed awfully fond of the idea of showering with you.

Alright, maybe he could think about Pokemon or something, consider tactics for his training match tomorrow.

You were training earlier.

You had that fire in your eyes, that wild and unabashed smile, that passion that oozed from every pore. He vividly remembers how your chest rose with each breath, how your pupils dilated with adrenaline, how you rushed up to him after your battle to immediately get his advice. Leon shakes his head to the present again.

Stop stop stop stop Leon, think about something else. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Yeesh.

He doesn’t even talk with you that often, maybe a couple times a week when your schedules align at the gym. He always makes a beeline right to you, only to make it there and realize he has nothing to say. You always say something though, something clever, and he usually laughs and usually thinks of something in return (never as quickly as he would want, though). He always hovers on the edge of caution in his words, though, so he’s sure you don’t know about his little crush on you.

Leon gathers his towel, soap, and shampoo, and heads to the showerhead at the end. Normally he has his private shower and dressing room, but that exhibition match with Raihan left it in dire need of maintenance (along with a few other rooms in Wyndon Stadium), so here he was, using the public ones. It’s late enough, though, so hopefully no one comes in. His staff isn’t starstruck like most fans, but the last thing he wants is an awkward conversation in the gym showers so late at night. 

Leon grimaces when he steps into the shower stall. It’s not even a stall, but rather a group shower with flimsy, translucent partitions between showerheads. The partition barely goes up to his shoulders, and only down to his knees. He wonders who he can talk to about the sheer lack of privacy these things provide - really it’s almost a joke, like a smug wink to whoever gets to be on the other side. He reaches his hand over it, waves, and can easily count all of his fingers, though they’re blurry. 

He doesn’t give the partitions much thought beyond that, as the shower knob creaks when he turns the water on. It splutters, then runs over him in a steady stream, trailing down his face, neck, chest, all the while collecting the bits of sweat, grime, and dirt from his intense training. Leon lets the water run over him for a few minutes as the steam swirls in his lungs, cleansing him from the inside out. He vaguely wonders what you’re up to at this hour. Probably sleeping.

There’s a rustle, the clang of a locker, and Leon groans inwardly. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen: forced small talk while being butt-naked. Bathroom etiquette suggests that he doesn’t even make eye-contact, so hopefully whoever just came in follows those unspoken rules too.

“Hey, Leon!”

Leon’s eyes snap open and his blood goes cold.

Oh.

Oh no.

Please.

“Training late tonight too, huh?”

Dear Arceus, please, let this be a dream. Or maybe he’s dead, that’d be even better.

The seconds tick by, but the rustling of clothes doesn’t stop. When he accepts that those sounds aren’t in his imagination, he slowly turns his head.

And his stomach drops, because there you are, sweating, smiling, shining, and you give him a wave.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be in here,” you say. Leon forces a smile.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. He coughs, then clears his throat. “Yeah me either.”

And then, you ask exactly what he wishes you wouldn't ask.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask with a good-natured smile.

Flashes of his fantasies erupt in his brain.

You, asking that same question.

You, biting your lip seductively.

You, trailing your fingers up his stomach.

You, looking him in the eyes with your own hooded and hungry gaze.

Leon lets out a squeak.

“S-sure,” he says as he clears his throat to ensure his voice sounds much manlier than squeaking. “Group showers, couldn’t deny that even if I wanted to.”

“Would you want to?” you tease.

Leon swallows another squeak, and instead lets out a breathy laugh. There you go again, with your relentless teasing. How is he supposed to answer? Yes? No? Maybe? What would be charming and make him look like not a huge pervert? He’s faltering in a response, but you don’t seem to mind. The second he finds one, he looks back over to you, only to choke on his spit.

You’ve already pulled off your pants and folded them on the bench and are in the process of pulling your shirt up over your head. Leon’s eyes zigzag over your frame, unconsciously drinking in every inch of you as quickly as he can. Heat pools deep in his stomach, because you look just like he fantasized you would.

This is getting dangerous. 

You finally pull your head out from your shirt and toss it on top of your pants. Leon whips his head back to the shower wall, and squeezes his eyes closed as if to squeeze out that image of you. It’s already ingrained behind his eyelids though, properly stored in his brain so he can access it too easily. 

He hears more rustle of cloth, but he doesn’t dare look over again. You’re probably wearing nothing, your skin is probably glowing in the soft yellow light of the mirror lamps, and Leon suddenly wishes he had turned on all the lights when he came in instead of just the moody dim ones. Your bare feet pat against the tiled floor, and Leon holds his breath.

Please stay at the other end.

You pass the end showerhead.

Please stay at the showerhead second to the end.

You pass the showerhead second to the end.

Please stay in the third to the end.

You pass the third to the end, and Leon’s heart is beating in his ears the closer you step.

He squeezes his eyes closed again, though his fantasies push into his mind.

You, stepping in behind him.

You, curving your hands around his hips.

You, pressing yourself against his back.

You, kissing his neck, his shoulders, down his spine.

Leon lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay?” you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Your voice is close, much too close, and Leon dares to peek as to which shower stall you picked.

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised when he sees you’ve picked the one right next to his.

“Yeah,” Leon says. “Just had a long day of training.”

“Same,” you say as you turn on your own shower. You seem to notice his tension as you set your toiletries on the ground. “Don’t take it personally that I’m right next to you, this is the best shower. The temperature and the water pressure is perfect. If you were in this one I’d probably kick you out.”

Leon lets out another breathy laugh.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he says as he looks everywhere that isn’t you. 

“Or I’d ask to share,” you say with a lighthearted chuckle.

Leon’s heart pounds.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that either,” Leon says. His voice is too quiet to be teasing, and in his periphery he sees you furrow your brow.

“I’m wounded,” you say. “I think I’d make a great shower partner. I’d get all the spots on your back that you can’t reach.”

“I can reach all the spots,” Leon says stupidly, even though he can’t.

You switch subjects and start talking about your training, and Leon tries his best to listen. He needs to get his shampoo, but it’s sitting on the floor. Could he just… lean down and grab it? Would that be weird? But then he’d be nose to nose with that translucent partition, and effectively, nose to nose with your blurry and bare figure. He closes his eyes, pats around the ground, finds his shampoo, and stands straight again.

“Oh, can I borrow some of that?” you ask. “I left my shampoo in my other bag.”

Leon turns before he can think when you hold your hand out. He gets a glimpse of your smile, of your hair, wet and dripping, of your cheeks flushed from the steam. 

What if your face was flushed from something else?

He slaps that thought away, squeezes some shampoo into your open palm, and turns back to the wall.

Does he even need to shower? Maybe he could just dry off and shower at home and not risk you finding out about his crush in an embarrassing and non-gentlemanly way. He needs to calm down, because the heat that’s pooling in his stomach is getting needier and needier as seconds pass.

“Leon?” you say, and Leon jolts into focus again.

“Huh?” he grunts. “Sorry, what? I was… spacing out.”

“Yeah I can tell,” you say. “I asked why you’re in here and not in your own shower.”

“Oh, mine’s getting fixed,” Leon answers, and when you close your eyes as the water gently hits your face, Leon can’t stop himself from peeking.

There’s your frame, bare and blurry, behind the translucent partition. What if he stepped around it? Or better yet, what if it wasn’t there? What if he could step to you, press his thumbs into your hips, pull you into his chest?

He shakes his head into focus again. Yep, he can shower at his house, maybe take care of this tension at his house too. Leon rinses the shampoo out, rinses himself off, collects his things, ties his towel around his hips, and walks past you as quickly as he can, forcing his eyes forward the entire time. He barely makes it to his bag before he hears your voice again.

“Leon?” you ask. 

It’s quiet, much softer than what’s normal for you. He glances to you, brow furrowed at the hesitation in your voice. He can only see above your shoulders and below your knees, and you're backed far enough away from the partition so he can only catch the foggy color of your skin.

“Do you not like me?” you ask. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“What?” Leon breathes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound is the echo of the water hitting the tiles beneath you when you bite your lip.

“Whenever I talk to you, you barely respond,” you confess. “And I just… I feel like you’re really uncomfortable around me. I want to know what I did so I can properly apologize.”

What you did? How about who you are? Charming and captivating and attractive, always knowing what to say to get him to blush.

“You didn’t do anything, promise,” Leon says quickly. “It’s me. I’m always awkward when I’ve got feelings for someone.”

Your eyebrows raise, and so do his.

Oh.

Oh no.

Because there is that sly smirk, slowly inching onto your face.

“Feelings?” you repeat smugly, and you step forward and rest your chin on your fist and your elbow on the partition. “Little ol’ me? What kind of feelings?”

“W-well,” Leon stutters. “Y’know, like, platonically. A-as a friend, co-worker, u-um, a comrade.”

“Hm,” you hum, and you take a step towards the partition. Your figure is a little less fuzzy the closer you step. Dangerously less fuzzy. “Platonically?”

“Yep,” Leon squeaks as his eyes flick to yours, then to your blurry outline. You catch his slip when he stares for a second, and he meets your eyes, and abruptly turns. “I-I’m going to shower at my house.”

“Why?” you ask. “You don’t want to shower with me?”

His eyes widen again when he realizes what he revealed to you. His face is flaring red.

“The… the water is cold here,” he stutters. Leon steps around the shower wall to pull on his pants and pull on his shirt out of view of you and your blurry figure. He gets tangled, thanks to his damp skin, and he can hear your laugh echo in the room.

“I told you this one is perfect,” you say. “There’s plenty of room for you too.”

“A-and I need to feed my… my oven, since I left it on,” Leon blurts as he collects his things as fast as he can. “See you tomorrow!”

“It’s a date!” you call, and your words echo around in the showers, then down the hall as Leon rushes out.

Your words follow him, and that image of you and those fantasies stay unfortunately prominent in his mind, even when he gets home.

Especially when he gets home.

[bnha-hq]

7 minutes in heaven

Here’s my rarepair2020 fic for @seijouthirdyears I hope you enjoy it!!

It was hard picking a ship cause I like all of them lmao but ended up on this ship, it’s one of my favourites!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa thinks over his long time friendship with Kuroo during their 7 minutes in heaven.

Warnings: none Word count: 3034 Ship: Oikawa x Kuroo

This wasn’t the first party Oikawa had been too, not by a long shot, it wasn’t even the first game of spin the bottle or 7 minutes of heaven that he’d ever played. This was, however, the first time he’d ever been this nervous. The first time he’d ever intently watched the bottle with his chest tight, from holding his breath or anticipation he wasn’t quite sure. He felt like he was 15 again, playing the game for the first time and that was almost amusing…almost.

He had half a mind to feel almost embarrassed by just how intently he watched the bottle, how he was only a hair’s width of self-control away from crossing his fingers and praying out loud for it to land on a particular person but he just couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to it. He watched as the bottle passed player after player, slowing down on each rotation till it was moving in a crawl so painfully slow it made him want to pull his own hair out. It did however come to a complete stop and Oikawa wasn’t sure whether he was going to survive these next 7 minutes.

When he looked from the bottle he was met with Kuroo’s sly smirk, a smirk that made Oikawa feel like Kuroo knew exactly what he was thinking, like he could see right through him, which was a feeling he wasn’t quite used to yet if he was being completely honest with himself. He offered his hand to Oikawa in which he gladly accepted and into the small, dark closet they went.

The door was closed behind them, a soft click indicating the door was now locked. This was it, for the next 7 minutes it was just him and Kuroo in this closet and usually Oikawa was more than happy to get right into it but this time he didn’t, he couldn’t. He glanced around the closet, but he couldn’t make out anything, he could feel Kuroo’s body heat, so he knew the middle blocker was close but besides that he wasn’t sure about what else was around. The room was as silent as it was dark, the party from the other side of the door seemed muffled, much more distant than it really was somehow. He could barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest, he was sure Kuroo had to be able to hear it too, a thought that didn’t really help.

“Let’s just chat for now yeah?” Kuroo’s voice cut through the silence, the sound of him leaning against the wall and sliding down followed. “We can see where it goes from there~.”

Oikawa could have sworn that he heard Kuroo’s smirk, he really was cocky, a trait Oikawa found both incredibly frustrating but also incredibly endearing. He nodded despite the dark and sat on the ground across from the other man.

“Chatting works” he was too tall to stretch his legs fully as he sat, so he placed his feet by the wall and rested his arms on his knees. The warmth of Kuroo’s leg flush against his seeped through his jeans, seeming to warm his entire body

“Oh good! Cause I have to tell you about what happened today in chemistry” and off he went, talking about an experiment that his teacher had shown the class. Most of what Kuroo said simply flew over Oikawa’s head, not that he didn’t care what the other had to say, he did, he just didn’t understand a word Kuroo said. He was sure that Kuroo wasn’t even speaking Japanese half the time and he stood by that, but even then he loved to listen to him talk, to hear the passion in his voice and even now, in the pitch black darkness of this tiny closet he knew that Kuroo was gesturing wildly and making faces as he described his daily antics, his eyes wide with excitement. Oikawa absolutely adored it, his eyes in particular; they were one of the things that caught his attention the day they first met.

 In fact, Oikawa remembered that whole day very vividly, it was his first day of university and he had felt almost dizzy with the flurry of emotions he was feeling. He was uncharacteristically nervous, he was a small fish in a big pond again and this time he didn’t have Iwaizumi with him, he missed his best friend and family but at the same time he was more excited than he had ever remembered being. This was it, next chapter in his life and he was determined to grab it with both hands and run with it.

He remembered stepping on the court and immediately feeling right at home, the smell of the polished floor and the sound of volleyballs hitting the court were all so familiar and comforting, he couldn’t wait to be on here playing a real game. He also couldn’t wait to meet his team, to get a read on them, to pick apart their strengths and weaknesses and work with them to build a team he was sure others would consider a challenge. So, in he went to meet the team.

Kuroo had approached him first, Oikawa remembered his first thought being that he had a terrible hairstyle, joking to himself that surely his hair blocked his vision, right?

“Hi, I’m Kuroo, previously a middle blocker from Nekoma high school” he held his hand out, shaking Oikawa’s firmly with a grin that gave him the distinct feeling that Kuroo was reading him just as much as he was reading Kuroo.

“Oikawa, previous setter and captain from Aoba Johsai” he remembered watching Kuroo’s sly grin widen a bit, those calculating eyes narrowing in on him in a way he would have imagine a cats would after having cornered its prey and Oikawa was already fascinated with him. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

Oikawa had spent that game getting to know his teammates and as was his speciality, he had picked them apart mentally and was confident he knew how to bring out their absolute best…all besides Kuroo. Oikawa struggled to get a good read on him, he was aware of his strengths as he was a brilliant player but he couldn’t figure out his weaknesses, his playing style or really any firm grasp of his personality, nothing he could work with anyway, he firmly believed it was deliberate. He had spent practice after practice trying to work him out, but it was always the same, Oikawa saw exactly what Kuroo wanted him to see and not a bit more…and he’d be lying if it wasn’t a little bit exciting. Oikawa had never met someone like Kuroo before, someone who could match him at his own game and somehow make it fun, Oikawa felt himself drawn to him more than ever. His sharp tongue and sharper eye drew him in, but he never let himself lose control, Kuroo may be good but he was better, and he’d prove it. Oikawa could have described it as almost like a dance, stepping around each other waiting for the other to make the next move. A dance with their own rhythm and no end in sight, a game with no foreseeable victory, nothing to win but exhilarating all the same.

 Over time they had grown closer, the timer still ticked, and the beat still pulsed but Oikawa found a strange comfort in his new friend, different to the comfort he had with his other friends. He enjoyed their relationship, they understood each other, trusted each other and ultimately cared for each other in their own unique way, a way that he really understood. Oikawa often liked to think about whether they’d have been friends had they met in his middle school or even high school years, he wanted to say they would but he knew that wasn’t the truth, though that thought amused him honestly. He very likely wouldn’t have been sitting here, on Kuroo’s couch and he definitely wouldn’t be here looking at his friend’s concern and actually wanting to open up.

“So, what’s up? You’ve been quiet” Kuroo’s voice had been soft and genuine, there was no teasing undertone or hint of a joke. It was so simple, yet Oikawa had complete confidence that he wouldn’t mock him, he knew he wouldn’t hold it over him or shove it aside as an inconvenience. He’d taken a second, he still wasn’t sure why…maybe to appreciate the gentleness, the kindness, or maybe to just gather his thoughts a bit more.

“Guess I feel a little homesick…missing my best friend especially, this is the first time I’ve been away from him for so long” he’d chuckled humourlessly. He remembers how silly he had felt when he confessed it out loud, it seemed so childish, he’s an adult now and he’s sulking about his friend who he still gets to see, albeit not as often!

He glanced at Kuroo to gauge his reaction and Kuroo nodded, Oikawa didn’t know what exactly he was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“I get that, my best friend is still at Nekoma for another year. Shit’s rough” he chuckled a bit himself, not as dry as Oikawa’s had been but not the laugh the blocker usually had, despite that though it was just as real, and something fluttered in Oikawa’s stomach.

“Yeah, it’s weird not having him here, we started everything together!” He’d barely missed slapping Kuroo when he threw his arms open in a grand gesture, Kuroo laughed a little livelier at that and Oikawa remembered feeling a smidge of pride at that.

“I was even there when he caught his first bug!” Kuroo gasped a bit, clearly playing into the setter’s theatrics and Oikawa honestly appreciated it.

“I was there when he beat his first video game” Kuroo added on with a grin.

It was that moment, on that couch just talking about their love for their friends that the tune shifted, and the dance changed, subtle as it was, it was there. Oikawa noticed that as they talked, talked about Kenma and Iwaizumi, their families and just moments from their childhood the more the melody slightly changed. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly had changed but he was acutely aware that it had, he had found himself wondering if Kuroo had felt it too, he was sure he would have.

Oikawa didn’t want to think about it too much at the time, it had felt so delicate and fragile then and Oikawa was worried to ruin it, so he let it be, he figured it was one of those things that shouldn’t be meddled with.

 Oikawa was jolted back to the present with a yelp when Kuroo squeezed the sides of his knees firmly.

“Are you even listening to me?” Oikawa could tell he was holding back a laugh, possibly laughing at his reaction.

“…yes” Oikawa lied.

He swore he could feel Kuroo’s eyes roll when he said that and this time he actually did laugh, it seemed to fill the room with a sense of warmth.

“Alright alright, I admit I got side-tracked” Kuroo chuckled and checked his watch, the numbers glowing. “Huh, it’s been two minutes.”

“Only two? Huh…” Oikawa’s eyed widened, only two minutes! He was going to die before the seven minutes was up, he was sure of it.

Oikawa felt Kuroo’s hand on his knee, though instead of a brutal squeeze he gently massaged up and down his leg, going just below mid-thigh before coming back down, this was something Oikawa was used to as Kuroo did often though wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a comforting gesture or just something he did because he felt like it at the time. All he knew was that it drove him just as crazy as the day he first did it.

 It had been a horrible winter day, it was cold, snowy and windy and just not all that pleasant. Kuroo had prepared some hot chocolate for the two of them and they had rugged up on the couch with some movies playing on the tv and despite the terrible weather outside Oikawa had felt comfortable, it had been warm inside and he’d really enjoyed Kuroo’s company.

Kuroo had let Oikawa choose the movies, and as it turned out they both had the same taste in movies, others would call them ‘bad’ or ‘a disgrace to the movie industry’ but they loved them, there was nothing like sitting down to a terrible movie and having a good laugh at the CGI or acting or even the plot itself. Oikawa had been focused on the movie when he first felt Kuroo’s hand on his leg, it had surprised him so much that he almost jumped.

He quickly looked at Kuroo, his surprise only growing when he seemed completely fixated on the movie still, he didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing or what it was doing to Oikawa, who had been trying his hardest to act as nonchalant and unaffected as Kuroo even as he had a million questions spinning through his mind. Was this flirting? Why would he be flirting? And why did the thought of Kuroo flirting with him send his heartbeat into overdrive? It’s not like he wanted Kuroo to be flirting with him, right? They were only friends after all, very good friends perhaps but still only friends. He couldn’t focus on the movie anymore and only on Kuroo, and more importantly what a simple gesture as putting his hand on Oikawa’s leg was doing to the setter. He couldn’t think of anything really, no reasons or logic, it only every kept coming back to the fact that Oikawa liked it, he liked the warmth of his hand and the gentle act of affection, he hadn’t known at the time why he liked it so much but looking back on it he just wasn’t ready to accept the true reason yet.

Oikawa had noticed that it was then that the melody of their relationship seemed to shift again, the dance less push and pull as it had been before and while it was still there, it had a much more a comforting flow, a melody that had witnessed the growth of their friendship and changed with it and a melody that didn’t appear to be finished changing…what that meant for the two of them Oikawa wasn’t sure, he was sure he’d find out soon enough though.

 Oikawa had been correct; it had only been the next day when it finally made sense to him, he’d thought it over again and again and again, analysed his own reaction and why he swore he could still feel Kuroo’s warm hand on his leg when the realisation hit him like a spike to the face.

He was, without a doubt, in love with Kuroo Tetsurou.

At the realisation he felt like he was back in his first day, feeling both terrified but exhilarated at the same time. Oikawa was confident and rarely felt scared to pursue someone he was interested in but this time it felt different, he didn’t want to rush right into it instead he was determined to take his time, feel it out as we went.

He would make his move when the time felt completely right to do so.

 Oikawa was once again jolted from his memory when Kuroo shifted, moving to almost straddle him in a way that allowed him to get face to face. Oikawa could just make out the outline of Kuroo’s face but felt his breath against his lips faintly and in that moment, he was so glad it was dark because he was sure he was redder than he had ever been before. Oikawa collected his racing thoughts the best he could before he spoke.

“W-What are you doing?” he only blushed darker at how high his voice came out and his little stutter.

“Times nearly up and I want to tell you something, and I wanna make sure you actually pay attention” Kuroo’s voice was similar to how his had sounded, though the call out was firm, he could only smile sheepishly at that.

He could have sworn that even Kuroo could have heard his heartbeat with how hard it was beating, what could he possibly need to say that required this distance? Oikawa had an idea…or a bit of hope of what it would be.

“Better be quick then.”

He felt Kuroo shuffle a bit, he figured he was trying to get more comfortable, or as comfortable as he could in the space they were given then heard him take a breath, the type of breath that was usually followed with him running his fingers through his hair and Oikawa briefly cursed the dark.

Oikawa felt on edge, though not in a bad way. His body full of tension the same as it would on Christmas eve or buckling into your favourite ride at the carnival, this was the climax of their melody and he knew it, every step and spin had lead them to this very moment, trapped in this closet only inches from one another.

“I like you…a lot…and I have for a while” he took Oikawa’s hands in his and kissed the knuckles gently, such a gentle gesture yet it sent Oikawa crazy. “I don’t know if you feel the same and I really don’t want to ruin what we have, I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too” Oikawa brought his hand up and gently held Kuroo’s face, eventually closing the gap and kissing the boy he had wanted to kiss for so long now and just like that their song changed and their dance with it. It was no longer the push and pull competitiveness from when they first met, or the tentative, unsure steps of the between but a dance they both knew the moves to, a song in which they both knew the words. It was comforting and beautiful, and Oikawa looked forward to listening to it for a very long time.