#anyway i am enjoying my fifth watch-through so far

[trisshawkeye]

So I think when we as Black Sails fans recommend the show as, "oh, you just need to get through the first season where it's trying to be Game of Thrones with pirates, it gets good in season 2" we do it a disservice. Because yes, it does get a little bit 2edgy4u while it finds its feet, but the magnificent writing, the characters, the themes, they're all right there from episode 1.

[sumire-no-nikki]

To Be Here

October. My beloved October. The kotatsu blanket is back on, the indoor plants don't need as much watering, the fallen leaves in the backyard need sweeping and the Summer clothes have been put away. Funny how many friends I've recently chatted with about the bliss that comes with October. It's a burst of orange ochre and apple red in my head. When the season turned, the sun who has since made herself scarce is a warm embrace whenever she pokes her head out. The wind and clouds are constant companions. The evening is perfect for mysterious reads under candlelight. What a splendid month.

As I am typing this, however, October is nearly done. Something this good always leaves too soon, doesn't it? I love the first taste of cold after the pesky Summer heat and September’s false promises of colder days. October is where it really gets going. But it's always nearly done before I feel like I can properly savor it. How melancholy!! But isn’t that how it always goes? Love is more deeply felt after only the crater it left is the one thing you’ve got to remember it by? Love defined by the lack, the absence, the loss? There will never be enough Octobers for me. I’m a creature of want in this way, yearning is an instinct for me. I watch the days go by and the thought that there won’t be another October until next year is like quicksand for my mind.

That said I’ve spent the month working diligently and on the whole being rather productive in both work and personal matters. There’s this project I’ve started and making good progress on! Once completed I promised myself a trip where I can apply what I’ve learned and I’m so excited to reach that goal. I’ve also read a lot this month. I really surprised myself. I’ve read six books and the month isn’t over yet! I read two Agatha Christie books, all three of the Toshikazu Kawaguchi series (the fourth one is coming out next month!! And I’ll have to read the fifth one in Japanese because I don’t want to wait for the translation to come out!!!) I also read Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library as recommended by a friend and I'm so glad she brought it up! I've had a copy of it for ages but just never managed to pick it up due to associated memories (it was given to me by someone during a bad period in my life!!) I swear that book might've just saved my life. I also finished two manga volumes in Japanese this month. It's a series called Yotsuba&! which is just the most wholesome series. Maybe I'll talk about it someday on here. But that series is such a light in my life. I picked it up on one particularly tough day last week and it instantly revived hope in my heart that there's still good out there no matter what.

Other things I've been up to: I've been running a lot these days and I'm actually surprising myself with how much I enjoy it. Earlier today (I'm typing this before bed) I went on a run while it was drizzling. I felt like a kid playing in the rain. I couldn't stop smiling!

Also, the podcast show I mentioned some entries ago!! Case 63!! It has a season 2!! Actually, I found out it's originally by a Chilean writer, so the version I listened to is an English adaptation. Anyway, I'm so happy there's more of it. Season 3 is the final season in Spanish so I expect the English adaptation of that will also be made (since they went so far as to continue with season 2). Fingers crossed! I'm so intrigued as to how it will end!!

As for TV, I started and finished watching HBO's Barry in like a week. I was absorbed!! All four seasons! Mind you, each episode is only 30 mins so it wasn't really that long. It's such a funny and dark show I love it so much. I've heard good things about it through the years but I never found the time to get into it. Plus I have this terrible illness of "I-Can't-Get-Into-Things-When-It's-Super-Mainstream-I-Need-To-Wait-Until-The-Hype-Dies-Down-itis" lol. No, seriously I just didn't feel like getting into a new show until this month apparently. But I'm so glad I watched it. The show is a goldmine, the best Hollywood/LA culture satire I've seen in ages. The way it highlights the gender gap in the workplace, how a writer must compromise on truth in order to sell something, even the way a woman needs to be a "perfect victim" in order for her story to be worth anything! It's so witty!! And the central question of can people truly change--I'll be thinking about this show for a long time. It's so good. Watch it if you can.

Early this month I also managed to sneak a quick trip to Croatia and Slovenia which was so relaxing and peaceful. Trips can be quite stressful for me especially when it's a big city full of tourists due to my OCD (I'm looking at you Paris, and literally all of Italy smh... jk jk) But this trip was restorative and gave me a genuine sense of discovery and wonder, which is what I aim to travel for.

I've been listening to the new Mitski album and rethinking my home library's organisation system! I haven't decided yet but I mainly want my Classical Mythology books, both fiction and non-fiction in one area. Also wishing I bought two Caryatid statues in Athens last year instead of one! Would've been nice for her to have a buddy!!

Now, the title of this entry comes from a realisation I had this month--a very important one. As someone whose nature is to think and think and think, it's difficult to be in the present. I'm always in agony over the past, and anxious about the future. I can be quite dismissive of what's in front of me as a result. This is a chronic issue of mine. But while reading The Midnight Library, tucked in my reading chair, savoring the scent of a pumpkin pie candle, all the pieces of advice I've read both online and in person suddenly clicked.

When writing a first draft of a novel, it simply needs to exist.

When making art, it simply needs to be there.

When yearning to do something, I must attempt it

When wanting to exist, I simply am.

I just need to be here in the most literal sense. To be. Not in the past tense, not in the future tense. There's no need for qualifiers. There is no standard to fulfill. I know this is neither new nor revolutionary, but in the embrace of an October evening, digesting this advice and accepting it made me feel so brave.

It hit me like a sucker punch. I thought, I need to untangle my sense of self and my worth from anything external. I cannot keep on doing this to myself. Because the truth is if I don’t stop this constant self-flagellation, I have simply replaced my mother in adulthood. I will have been no different from her and her constant need to criticise me. This is something I've been actively trying to improve recently and I can feel myself getting better. I feel, somewhat ironically, that by being present, I'm regaining a sense of hope that I haven't felt since childhood. Like somehow my past is healed and my future is assured.

So despite how much I've gone on about loving October at the beginning of this entry, as much as I know I will miss it, I have to be where I am. That means accepting that all things end--good or bad. That means being in November when it comes. That means understanding that what I've lost, while dearly missed, is out of my grasp now. That means what will happen to me is tomorrow's business.

This entry's song I've repeated to death (which is a very good thing) this month. It's by an artist I really enjoy. I cannot wait for new material from her and this new single is a sign of really good things to come!

I leave you with a photo of a friend I made while out on a walk. What shall I name him?

Have a wunderbaaahhh rest of Octobaaaahhh! 🐑

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[floral-poisons]

MY LIEGE HELP I RECENTLY WATCHED TANAKA KUN IS SO LISTLESS AND I CANT STOP BRAINROTTING ABT IT

its slice of life/comedy and lowkey kinda queercoded like i sense a smidge of pqr around here yk

anyway since req are open ! hope you dont kind if i request malleus, jade, rook and whoever else you want with an gn s/o thats really tired all the time ??

like s/o is so tired all the time they end up have to carry them to class all the time. (maybe a scenario where theres like a fire drill and the character lost their s/o in the building. they got lost bc theyre always carried all the time so they dont know where the emergency routes are AJSJDJD)

or maybe one time it rained and they were almost at their dorm and it was raining a lil, whatever no biggie, but then it started pouring and they were like "just a lil more. i can make it" and got sick the next dayAHEUDJF

headcanon or scenario up to you !!! i just want to embrace my new kin Tanaka he is such a weirdo and i love him so muchAUAJHWJDG

KFDSMKGDM!! I AM A LIEGE NOW?! faints

i've never heard of this but i will put it on my neverending list of anime to watch!! i'm happy to provide this for you anon.

i also included riddle because why not?

MALLEUS DRACONIA

someone set the alchemy room on fire. again. this had to be like the fifth time this week (albeit it didn’t happen during the science club this time around). everyone evacuated the building and was waiting for the whole thing to be under control, which wouldn’t take long.

malleus had no trouble getting out. he was feeding his digital pet while waiting for the whole situation to blow over-

“malleus-sama, where’s (y/n)?” sebek asks. “usually they’re with you.”

malleus almost dropped his digital pet. “(Y/N)!!!” he exclaims, running back inside the building. it was rare to see malleus panic. he had accidentally left you in the building!

eventually he found you. you were wandering around, and it wasn’t far from the exit he entered through. he could only sigh in relief as he took your hand while you yawned. “you always come to my rescue~” you smile.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

getting through assignments was tough when you were tired. all the time. but your boyfriend was riddle rosehearts so he was going to get you to finish your work one way or another.

“alright (y/n). there’s one more problem...” he wanted to cry seeing how many parts there were. that was literally half the alphabet! how did professor crewel expect them to do it? “we got this!”

“yeah! we got this!” you smiled.

it only took about five hours. you fell asleep. riddle decided to say “fuck it” and did the whole problem before adding the answers to a sheet. he’d let you use it when you woke up. although he was too tired to go back to his dorm and fell asleep on your carpet.

“hmm? are we done?” you yawned as you woke up. you looked back at riddle before picking him up and putting him in a guest room. he worked hard. he deserved to rest.

ROOK HUNT

“rook! rook!” you whined as you followed him in the hallway. you two were heading to class.

“yes trickster? what can i do for you?” he smiles.

“do you think we can dance today? i want to continue my lessons!” you pouted. you had asked rook to help you multiple times. though it seemed that most of the time ended with you falling asleep.

“ah okay. we’ll meet at the pomefiore ballroom for practice later. okay?” he smiled upon seeing your excited nod.

turns out today would be like those most times where you fell asleep on rook’s chest while you two were dancing. he kept you up. but he enjoyed the quiet atmosphere and being close to you. it was peaceful compared to the hectic environment of nrc.

JADE LEECH

“can’t i at least get out of bed!” you whine. you were trying to sit up but fell back down, feeling the intense fatigue take over your body again. you could feel how much your body wanted to sleep.

“no. look you can barely stand up.” he huffs. “you got sick from yesterday’s shower. and you must deal with the consequences.” jade helps you sit up and uses multiple pillows to prop you up.

“i was so close.” you pout.

“well it’s not so bad.” jade puts the tray of food on your lap. “i mean, i get to spend the day with you. and hopefully not get sick. i probably won’t. my immune system is impeccable, as azul would say.”

“well that means you’re the best boyfriend.” you yawned.

[inkskinned]

my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them. 

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of... sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband  “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings. 

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

[summerlovingbaby]

A Serpent Never Betrays Their Own PART 1

 “ I told you, she was a no good, dirty liar.” Betty yelled, pointing a finger at Y/N.

“ If you’d just let me explain.” Y/N begged, her voice was quiet and meek. It sounded scratchy, like she had fallen ill recently. Her eyes were sunken in and she had a slight limp, she just looked so sad.

“ WHAT IS THE FIFTH LAW?” FP’s voice boomed and echoed within the room.

“ A SERPENT NEVER BETRAYS THEIR OWN.” A room of voices yell as loud as possible.

“ I’ll see myself out.” She muttered, shedding her leather jacket and setting it down on a nearby barstool. She started to leave, when FP stopped her. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping that someone would finally let her explain.

“I’ll drive you home.” He muttered, and following her out the door.

The car ride on the winding dirt road, through the forest was surprisingly calm and sweet, at least for Y/N, who looked slightly lethargic. FP who looked angry and upset and slightly disappointed, but Y/N seemed not to mind. She looked oddly at piece, her head was leaning back on the headrest and her eyes were starring out of the window. She was watching the trees float by, it made her feel happy. To be honest, it was the first time in a while that she felt calm, and she was enjoying it. It was quiet, that calm sort of quiet, like the sound of a heartbeat.

“ When I die, don’t put me in a box. I get claustrophobic.” She said breaking the quiet.

“ What, I’m not planning to kill you. I’m just gonna take you home, thats all.”

“ I mean it, don’t put me in a casket. Y’know what just cremate me, but don’t put me in a urn, that’s still a box.”

“ Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“ Sprinkle my ashes somewhere outside, I like the outdoors. Put me in the river, I like water.”

“ Y/N-.”

“ Scratch that, I can’t swim, though that wouldn’t matter that much anyways. You know what, put me next to a tree, I like trees. Put me next to one, that smells nice, one with flowers next to the river. It would be a nice view. Who am I kidding, you’ll never find a body to burry anyway.”

“ Y/N, what is going on?”

“ Nothing.” She said snapping out of her daze. The car ride fell silent once again, until Y/N spoke. “ I’m sorry. Please tell them I’m sorry.” Her voice and breathing sounded less calm and more erratic. “ I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, and I thought I had it under control. I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered, she was holding back tears.

“ Y/N what is going on?”

“ Well, this is my stop. Tell Jughead I’m sorry.” Y/N said, her voice was quivering, and she was shaking, and before FP could grab her, she opened the door of the truck and rolled out. She rolled out of the car, and into the woods. FP stopped the car and got out of the car as fast as he could, but by the time he went around the car to look for Y/N, she had already scampered far into the woods, and was out of sight.

It was the next day, and despite the fact that Jughead was supposed to be shunning Y/N he couldn’t get her out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he saw her, how small she looked, and how big the bags were under her eyes, and how she had a slight limp. He couldn’t sop thinking about the phone call that he got from his dad. All he had to do was lay eyes on Y/N, just look at her to see that she was okay, and then he could stop thinking about her. But he didn’t see her. She wasn’t at school which was rare, because she prided herself on perfect attendance. He decided to bring up his concern at the serpent meeting.

“ I’m worried about Y/N.” He stated at the front of the room.

“ Why?” Sweet Pea asked.

“ She betrayed us.” Fangs repeated.

“ My dad called me, said she never made it home.”

“ What? He drove her.” Toni said glancing up.

“ Said she jumped out of the car, and ran into the forest.”

“ That’s odd.” Toni said, growing concerned.

“ He told me, before that she was going on about somebody killing her, and us not being to find her body.” Jughead said, his hands shaking from the stress of it all.

“ Why should we care, she’s been working with the Lodge’s, she betrayed us.” Fangs said growing annoyed at the constant mention of Y/N’s name.

“ I don’t think that’s the whole story. Come on think about it. I’ve known Y/N sense I was three, she’s only started lying to me about a month ago.” Jughead began, he started pacing about the front of the classroom.

“ So?” Toni asked.

“ So, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, the bruises, the skipping classes, the dazed look, the constant zoning out . She flinches when people make sudden  movements. That’s odd. Something is wrong, and we need to find out why. This may be nothing, and if it is I will eat my words. But if it’s not, and we’re not there to protect her, and figure out what is going on, and help her. Then whatever happens to her is on us.” Jughead said, he grabbed his bag and began to leave. “ If you don’t want to help, I completely understand, but I’m not going to stand here, and wait for something bad to happen to her.” He was almost out of the door, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

 “ WHAT IS THE FIFTH LAW?” Sweet Pea yelled.

“ A SERPENT NEVER BETRAYS THEIR OWN.”  The room echoed in unison.

“ Lets go get our girl.” Sweet Pea said. 

TAGLIST INFO

[in-the-name-of-styles]

Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos. 

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

.

It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the  doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was  going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys! 

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐁𝐮𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨

Imagine: Elijah takes you to the small town in Italy where you were born for your birthday and gives you a very nice wake up.

Pairing: Elijah x Vampire!Reader

Warning: Fluff and Smut

Words: 2350

A/N: This Smut is briefly based on the song 'Eyes on Fire' by Blue Foundation and Delena's morning love scene in 4x08 but then again not really, that's why BRIEFLY is the key word. Anyhow, enjoy ! :))

Ever since I met Elijah, he would always be planning surprises or taking me on romantic dates. It's just apart of his charm, he loves spoiling me and making it known that he loves me. I love that he does it even now, after so many years together.

We got married in 998, two years before we were both turned. We hated being turned because we had plans to have children of our own and it was ruined by transitioning into vampires. Clearly, we learnt to live on but we still wish sometimes that we were human. Even if just for a day. 

For my one thousand and forty-fifth birthday, he decided to take me to someplace I'd been but never remembered. My birth place, Portofino in Italy.

It's a beautiful little fishing village just on the Italian Riviera coastline, Southeast of Genoa city. It's littered with pastel coloured houses, high end boutiques and seafood restaurants and a small cobbled square overlooking the harbor which is lined with super yachts. Obviously, it was much more natural when I was last year considering it’s been one thousand years and everything is mainly man made, quite clearly. Still beautiful though.

I woke up listening to the sound of the waves crashing gently just outside of the window, feeling the warm summer breeze of the air hitting me hard, the smell of freshly cooked bread and not forgetting the flashy rays of sun gluing to me, making me feel comforted. I turned a little to realise that this moment I was having was rare, not only was I one year older and in Italy. I am still laid in bed with my husband, which doesn't happen as much as I wanted it too. He's always getting called off by Klaus but today, he was here. 

I’ll seek you out. Flay you alive. One more word and you won’t survive.

I relished in the feeling, backing myself into him as much as possible. Loving the warmth radiating from our naked bodies being pressed together. His muscular arm - that he wasn't laying his head on - wrapped around my waist and pulled me impossibly closer. My hair had fallen to the pillow, leaving my neck exposed which Elijah took advantage of and started to kiss lightly. I smiled widely and closed my eyes again, loving the feeling of his soft lips and stubble brushing against my skin. He moved lower and placed light pecks on my shoulder. As loving as the gesture was, I couldn’t help but think of the other, unspeakable things he could be doing with that mouth. My hand that was weaved with his fingers moved behind me and started to stroke Elijah's bare hips. He hummed in content and stroked my stomach, tracing the curve of my hips as he lowered gradually.

And I’m not scared; of your stolen power. I see right through any hour.

As I was stroking his hips and he had moved to stroke the smooth skin above my clit, I felt his cock begging to be touched. The tip brushing against the bottom of my thoracic spine. Thoughts turning sinful, I reached my hand towards his unbearable hardness and stroked his large cock. His breaths getting harder, were tickling my neck making me speed up. I moved forward a little to make it easier for me to pleasure him and after a few seconds he took my hand away and moved me against him again. I was confused at first but realised why he did it. It was my birthday, he likes to make me feel good on my birthday. He doesn't let me take care of him.

I won’t soothe your pain. I won’t ease your strain.

He clutched my hand and brought in front of me, allowing him to close the small gap of space I had made when moving forward. His free hand reached in between us and grabbed his length which he began stroking up and down the warmth between my legs. I was humming in delight when the hand attached to the arm he was laying on, began to stroke my hair. Stretching my smile even more. He finally stopped stroking my clit and situated his large penis at the ingress of my vagina.

You’ll be waiting in vain. I’ve got nothing for you to gain.

He moved his hand away again and crept the pads of his fingertips up the side of my body until he found and gathered my breast in his hand. As he was toying around with my nipple he suddenly thrusted into me and hit my sweet spot almost instantly. 

I’m taking it slow. Feeding my flame. Shuffling the cards of your game.

I threw my head back into the crook of his neck, whilst he kept up his heavy but slow thrusts. He moved his hand from my breast and grabbed my hand that was clutching the sheets beneath us. He held it so he had an example of the pleasure rippling through out me. I occupied my other hand by running it through his hair. I felt him watching me closely whilst driving me closer to climax but he decided to top it off with light kisses down my ear and neck. When he got as far as he could with his lips, he occupied his free hand to trail down the rest of my body.

And just in time; in the right place. Suddenly, I will play my ace.

The grip on his hand that I had gained, was getting arguably strengthier. I could hear the strain on the bones in his hand but nevertheless he kept his composure. His other hands fingers traced down my spine, creating pleasurable shivers. I screwed my eyes shut and bit my lip hard. I waited for him to pull out so I could turn around. I managed to and pressed my lips, that had specs of my blood from biting too hard on them against his. We pulled away he darted his tongue out and tasted some of my blood and I flipped us around.

I won’t soothe your pain. I won’t ease your strain. You’ll be waiting in vain. I got nothing for you too gain.

I pushed down on one of his shoulders and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile at how lucky I was. I leaned down and kissed him lovingly more than lustfully. When I pulled away, he flipped us back over. I grabbed his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I smiled whilst continuing the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer and rubbing my wet heat against his crotch. The tip of his penis was stroking my stomach as I was continuing the loving kiss we had shared, just moments before. I smiled against his mouth and sat up, continuing to glue my mouth to his own.

Eyes on fire. Your spine is ablaze.

Arms belonging to me, settled around his neck and gently pulled him closer to me as I rested my weight on his thighs. His lips were removed from my own and had taken their place below my ear, right next to my jaw and kissed it. Eyes of my own fluttered shut and my hips began a steady pace on his thigh. Grinding on it and feeling my high get inevitably closer. He smiled against my neck and pulled away, grabbing my face.

“Open your eyes, beautiful.”

I obeyed his wishes and stared deeply into him as he did to me. I stopped the movement of my hips on his thigh, stopping my release from layering on to his leg. 

“I’m sorry my love. I got carried away, I’m desperate.”

He chuckled at me and kissed my forehead, cheeks, eyes, nose and finally left a lingering kiss on my lips.

“Don’t ever be sorry my beautiful wife, you do whatever you want. I promise either way I will willingly give you your release your so desperately wanting.”

I looked into the dark but romantic abyss of his eyes and smiling. Remembering more intently than usual, just why I am and ever was in love with this wonderfully rare creating of a man.

“You really don't the mind ?”

He once again chuckled.

“Who am I to deny my Queen on her birthday ? You shall have whatever you would like and more.”

I rolled my eyes. The amount of times he's said that.

“I love you Mr Mikaelson.”

He clutched my face with his hands and whispered.   

“I love you Mrs Mikaelson.”

I smiled and kissed him once again. 

Felling any foe with my gaze. 

We continued to show our love to each other with our mouths when I decided to more a little further. I allowed my hand to wander to his always impressive length and stroke it a little, he groaned into my mouth in pleasure. He still mustered up the strength to remove my hand anyway, no matter his feelings. He clutched my hips and pulled away from my mouth, looking into my eyes. My hands wrapped around his neck tighter and eyes stayed glued to him whilst he lowered my body down on to his insanely erect member. I sighed in pleasure and the light smile stayed on my face as I bit my lip, feeling him reach my limit already. Being the only one who had been able to reach it, turned Elijah on more and he grinned at me. 

And just in time. In the right place. Steadily emerging with grace.

His fingers near enough engraved white prints onto my love handles as he kept my pace steady. My hands clutched his shoulders as I rose and lowered myself on him once again. We rested our foreheads against one another's and moaned. I kept up the pace of my fast bounces and he removed his forehead from mine; ducking his head to show as much affections to my breasts as I was doing to his cock. I started to get sloppy as my energy was draining from the pleasure he was filling me with. He noticed the pace slowing down and hugged me to him as he mercilessly thrusted his hips into mine. The soft moans that were previously filling the room, were now rougher and teamed with the slaps of our skin from the thrusts. My hips, thighs and back were flushed with the prints of his hands from clutching tightly. The rough thrusts were blurring my vision more and more the closer I got to release. 

Felling any foe with my gaze.

His hands groped my behind and pulled me even closer to him so we were no flushed against each other. My elevated position allowed my breasts to caress his face with every thrust, making him grin like an idiot. He kissed every inch of both of them and loved every second of it, knowing full well it was driving me impossible closer to my release. I held the post of the bed and forced myself to restart my bounces on him, only this time faster. His head hit the headboard as he threw it back, though it didn't cause any pain. I grabbed one of the hands that was almost glued to my waist as he was gripping so hard and rubbed it on my clit. Luckily, Elijah understood what I meant when I did that and roughened his pace, pressing harder and rubbing faster. Following that I used my hand to grip his balls, driving him closer to orgasm. 

Steadily emerging with grace.

“Elijah, honey...i’m so close.”

Once again, my energy had rapidly disappeared and I had to result to leaving him to the work again. It didn't stop me from rocking myself back and forth though, whilst clutching one of his thighs with one hand and his balls with the other.

“I know, beautiful. Just a little longer for me though, sweetheart. I want to make it a birthday you'll never forget, amore mio.”

I smiled at his words. He never fails to make it a day I won't forget.

“I’m turning one thousand and forty-five honey and I remember this part of my birthday every year, I'm sure I won't forget this one.”

As if he was retaliating to my statement, he flipped me over on to my hands and knees. Just when I thought this couldn't get any better, he pressed himself against my behind and caressing my breasts as they were hanging down, due to my position. I bit my lip and he rubbed the tight hole of my behind, as if he was waiting for my permission. 

Felling any foe with my gaze.

We'd never really thought about anal as much, maybe we just never got around to it but now it was approaching it seemed forbidden. I was still itching to see if it was so bad after all though, so I moaned and push back into him. He grinned and grabbed my hip, lining himself up and thrusting in with no hesitation. It stung a little but nothing I couldn't handle. I let my head fall down into the comforter, crying in pleasure loudly and almost ripping the sheets from me clutching so much. He groaned even louder than before and thrusted in again and again and again. At this point, I had never felt so fulfilled-sexually-in my life. I hummed in content and started shake slightly from pleasure. I could feel him start to throb alerting me of him getting seconds away from release.

Steadily emerging with grace.

I pulled myself away and sat on top of him again, wanting him to come inside of my pussy. I kissed him deeply and bounced on top and my first bounce had him coming already and I smiled widely before allowing myself to release onto him to. My orgasm glided thickly down his cock reaching his base and the feeling of the my warm juices, got him off even more.

I threw my head back in pleasure and he collapsed beside me, pulling the sheets over us and ushering me to cuddle into his side, which I did. I placed a sloppy kiss on his chest, tightening my hold on him.

“Yes, absolutely will not forget this one.”

He chuckled along with my giggle and kissed my head.

“I should hope so, Mrs Mikaelson. I tried so hard that I experimented, I didn't even know if you'd like it....although judging by your flushed face and beautiful smile on your face, I'm willing to gamble that I did in fact honour my wishes ?”

I shook my head and kissed him lovingly.

“Of course you did, honey.”

He grinned and kissed me once again.

“Happy birthday, beautiful.”

I kissed him again in gratefulness. 

“Thank you, handsome. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

MASTERLIST

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[kurowrites]

Five Times Lan Zhan (Kind Of) Proposed to Wei Ying

Find the earlier posts here. 

---

V: The Fifth Time (Or, A Complete Failure)

“Ooookay,” Wei Ying said, nonplussed, when Lan Zhan suddenly appeared in front of him and proceeded to curl up in Wei Ying’s lap determinedly.

Wei Ying naturally opened his arms and held onto Lan Zhan so that he wouldn’t fall off the sofa, but he was also a multitasker, so he could glare at the people surrounding him at the same time.

“So, who got Lan Zhan drunk this time?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Wen Ning shifted nervously, but Wen Ning shifted nervously all the time, so that didn’t count. Wei Ying ignored him.

Mianmian, on the other hand, simply shrugged when Wei Ying trained his gaze on her.

“I think he confused the jello shots with dessert,” she said, far too nonchalantly for Wei Ying’s tastes.

“And you let him eat them?” he cried.

Mianmian rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t watching what he was doing at all times. I’m not his custodian. That’s your job, really.”

“Oooh my god, Mianmian,” Wei Ying sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I think I’m pretty close to getting murdered by Lan Huan in a dark alleyway or something. This can’t keep happening.”

“Maybe it would help if you had an actual conversation with your boytoy,” Mianmian suggested, looking like she didn’t really care either way. “I’ve got to say, things are getting pretty ridiculous by now. I saw what happened during Wen Qing’s birthday.”

“Excuse me?” Wei Ying cried. “Lan Zhan is not a boytoy!”

He ignored the part about Wen Qing’s birthday, because nothing had happened during Wen Qing’s birthday. No one had been there when Lan Zhan had promised him to get him a better bow than the one he’d already given him, so no one knew about that one. And know one knew that Wei Ying had kept that bow, even thought it had been a pain to get off.

Mianmian rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Boyfriend, husband, loverboy. Tell him to check in with you before he eats or drinks anything at parties.”

“He’s not a child, you know,” Wei Ying insisted, pouting. “He can take care of himself.”

Mianmian sent a distinctly judgemental look towards Lan Zhan, who was firmly snuggled into Wei Ying’s lap.

“I can see that.”

“Naysayers everywhere!” Wei Ying complained loudly and insistently, but if he were honest, he had already given up. Lan Zhan was clearly done for the night, and Wei Ying couldn’t keep sitting with him draped over his lap indefinitely.

He gently wriggled his legs to see what kind of reaction would come from Lan Zhan.

The response was a noise not unlike one a grouchy old cat would make. Clearly the noise of someone who didn’t want to be moved.

“Come on, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, trying to sound encouraging. “I’m going to take you home, you’ll feel much better then. Your bed is missing you.”

Lan Zhan made another noise that communicated his displeasure, but he partly removed himself from Wei Ying’s lap and blinked up at Wei Ying with tired eyes.

“Aw, those shots did a number on you, huh,” Wei Ying cooed. “C’mon, let’s get you home before you fall asleep here. That sofa is too dirty for you to sleep on.”

Wei Ying managed to get Lan Zhan to get off him and the sofa, and Lan Zhan ended up following him out of the room with only little encouragement. To make his point, Wei Ying made sure to stick his tongue out at Mianmian as a parting shot.

“Go take care of your loverboy!” Mianmian shouted after him, but it was hardly audible through the music of the party, so Wei Ying elected to ignore it.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they were out the door and on their way to Lan Zhan’s dorm.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, taking hold of Lan Zhan’s arm to steer him into the right direction. “I think you need to be a little more careful. Getting drunk at these parties is certainly not doing you any favours.”

In all honestly, Wei Ying didn’t believe that Lan Zhan was enjoying these parties very much. He didn’t enjoy noise, he didn’t enjoy the chaos and the crush of unfamiliar people, and on top of that he would wake up with a hangover and no memory every time. Lan Zhan had told him once that he went to these parties because Wei Ying was there, but that alone couldn’t make up for the fact that Lan Zhan didn’t enjoy a single bit of the evening.

In addition, Wei Ying would stay over at Lan Zhan’s every time Lan Zhan got drunk, and Lan Zhan would feel obliged to provide Wei Ying with breakfast after staying over because he was a good host.

Wei Ying did generally enjoy the breakfasts (there was absolutely nothing to complain about the combination of Lan Zhan and tasty food), but delicious food was not a good enough reason to keep this thing going. Not when it came with Lan Zhan getting drunk. Wei Ying needed to put an end to it, he knew that. Especially before Lan Huan got involved.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said to himself as he steered Lan Zhan through the door of his room and to his bed. “This is the last time I’m doing this. No more getting drunk at parties from now on, Lan Zhan. Your wild days are over.”

He poured Lan Zhan onto the bed, and Lan Zhan looked up at him with tired eyes and a distinct pout on his lips.

“Hey little bunny,” Wei Ying said with a teasing smile, and poked his cute little nose. (He had to take his chances when they presented themselves. Poking a fully conscious Lan Zhan was unfathomable.) “What do you have to be pouty about?”

“I am a burden to Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said morosely.

“Aw, noooo,” Wei Ying cooed, poking Lan Zhan again, this time in his cheek. “I’m just worrying because it’s not like you to get drunk so often. And as funny as it is to see you get all drunk and snuggly, I think I prefer sober Lan Zhan.”

Drunk Lan Zhan didn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, his pout still prominent on his face.

“Sleep,” Wei Ying cajoled him. “And then tomorrow, as much as I don’t want to, we can talk about it once you’re actually sober.”

Lan Zhan tried to sit up, probably to protest, but Wei Ying had already put the cover over him and tucked him in, so he only ended up wriggling a little.

“I wanted to give Wei Ying a present,” he pouted (again).

“It’s not my birthday, I don’t need any presents,” Wei Ying assured him. “Also, you already gave me a present. The bow, you remember? I still have it. But if you really want to give me a present, you can give it to me tomorrow, okay?”

He was pretty sure that Lan Zhan would have forgotten all about any presents by tomorrow anyway, so it was a safe promise to make.

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed, and finally settled into his blankets.

“So obedient!” Wei Ying exclaimed, laughing. “Night night, Lan Zhan.”

“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmured. “Will show you tomorrow.”

Wei Ying smiled down at Lan Zhan, and watched him fall asleep.

How many repetitions of the same scene did this make now? Wei Ying bringing Lan Zhan to bed and watching over him as he fell asleep?

At least this time, Lan Zhan hadn’t suggested he was planning to marry Wei Ying in order to get frisky with him. What would it need anyway for Lan Zhan to get frisky with anyone? It was difficult to imagine something like that. Lan Zhan was always so stoic, it was hard imagining him madly in love with anyone.  

Wei Ying sat on the edge of the bed for a while, watching over Lan Zhan until he was sure that Lan Zhan was asleep. Then he snatched Lan Zhan’s little plush rabbit off the nightstand.

Wei Ying had given it to him as a joke, because it had reminded him of Lan Zhan for some reason, but Lan Zhan, far from throwing it away, seemed to treasure the little toy.

“Ah, little rabbit,” he sighed, squeezing the plushie gently. “What are we going to do about Lan Zhan? Your master is a bit of a wild child recently.”

The plush rabbit, predictably, only looked back at him with solemn black eyes.

“I’m a little worried about him,” Wei Ying confessed. “He seems to have a lot on his mind right now. And I’m just one lowly Wei Ying, I don’t really know what to do with him.”

Again, the plush rabbit was silent.

“I mean, he barely acknowledges that we’re friends, so I guess it’s not really my place to meddle.”

He laughed to himself.

“But Lan Zhan is so fun to meddle with, so I can’t help it.”

Wei Ying put the plush toy back and made himself a nest on the overly comfy light blue sofa in Lan Zhan’s dorm room (Lan Zhan had the money for a sofa in a dorm room, damn him). Before he wrapped himself in the blanket and fell asleep, he thought about Mianmian and the others who must still be at the party, but he felt zero impulse to return there. He could always go to another party, after all. And he was determined to talk to Lan Zhan tomorrow morning, as much as he didn’t want to have this discussion at all.

[minkoobi]

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

⤳ pairing: gryffindor!jungkook x slytherin!reader ⤳ genre: rivals to lovers, fluff, slight angst ⤳ word count: 11.5k ⤳ summary: jeon jungkoook, quidditch rival and former best friend, attempts to rekindle your lost friendship- and maybe something more

The gates slowly rise up and you are met with the sun nearly blinding you. With one quick glance to your teammates, you hop on your broomstick and fly up and above the quidditch pitch. Students from different houses were cheering, waving flags and chanting with all their might.

“Slytherin! Slytherin!”

You soar above them with pride and confidence. Quidditch has always been more than a sport to you. It was your calling- your passion. You were the best player in your team after all, earning you the title of being Slytherin’s team captain. You have led your team to many wins, but also shared your losses, specifically against this one team.

As if on cue, the opposing team makes their entrance, flying around the pitch with smiles on their faces, one which caught your attention almost immediately. 

That toothy grin with his nose scrunched up and eyes turned into crescents- they could only be that of Jeon Jungkook’s, Gryffindor’s team captain and best player. Simply put, he was your rival. You both had the position of being a chaser and are both known for being extremely competitive. 

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

You can see his smile grow bigger and you almost scowl at how easily his ego was boosted. But if you were being honest, you didn’t hate the guy, just disappointed at how your relationship turned out to be.

First Year 

“Up.”

And just like that, your broomstick met your palm in an instant. Pride fills you at how easily you’ve done the task at hand. You were really looking forward to Flying Classes since it’s a step closer to learning quidditch. 

To your left, the boy kept summoning his broomstick, having it float for a millisecond before it drops to the ground again. His fringe hung over his eyes but you could still make up his furrowed eyebrows. He groans in dismay and you can’t help but giggle.

“You have to put more force into it.”

The boy looks at you, eyes wide and a little flustered by the fact that you were watching him. You give him a small smile and a nod as if telling him to give it a try. He gulps before focusing on the broomstick and with one stern ’up’, he had it in his hand. 

“Thanks!” the nameless boy smiles sheepishly. 

“It’s nothing. I’m Y/N by the way,” You reach your hand out to him and he gives it a good shake.

“Jungkook.”

“Don’t zone out now Y/N, you wouldn’t want to lose to me again would you?” Jungkook smirks as he flies over to his side of the pitch. You notice Madam Hooch walking towards the wooden chest at the center of the field. The game’s about to start. You position yourself right across from Jungkook and mirror his smug look. “Wouldn’t dream about it.”

Madam Hooch blows on her whistle and throws the quaffle up into the air. Almost effortlessly, you catch it before darting towards the opposing goal. You see red come up from both your sides and as they near you, you throw the quaffle up into the air before your fellow teammate catches it and shoots it into the ring. A bell is heard and the commentator yells “ Slytherin scores first with 10 points!”

“Beaters, get the bludgers! Leave her to me,” Jungkook yells at his teammates before flying right behind your broomstick’s tail. It takes him no longer than a second until he is beside you and a little too close for your liking. You knew he was taunting you.

“You’re being too predictable nowadays,” his arrogance annoys you and you spare him a quick glance. 

“I know how this will work out. You’ll have your little snakes catch the ball and have them hand it to you so you can make your goal.” From the corner of your eye, you see your teammate wave a hand at you. Without saying a word, you dart towards their direction and as he throws the ball towards you, Jungkook cuts in between and grabs the quaffle with one hand. He turns his head to face you. “Like I said, predictable.” He speeds towards your goal post and effortlessly shoots it through the ring.

“Yes! 10 points to Gryffindor!” The crowd goes wild as the scores are now tied. Your anger builds up and your determination to win adds up to your adrenaline. “Keeper, don’t let them score,” you say calmly as you fly up higher to the sky. From there you could see everything clearly. You observe your opposing team and are quick to catch on to their tactic. Turns out Jungkook was just as predictable as you. 

You make your way to your teammates, sending them a look before spreading out. The Gryffindor team looked confused, watching you all fly aimlessly around them. As the distraction goes on, you and your closest teammate, Seulgi, fly up to Jungkook and trap him between your broomsticks. He is unable to nudge away from you two and causes him to lose his grip on the quaffle. You take this opportunity to snatch it off his hands and shoot it to their ring. Another bell is heard and Slytherin is leading again. “And I thought I was too predictable,” you mock Jungkook’s tone before flying away.

The game progresses intensely and everyone is on the edge of their seat, clearly intrigued by the feud between you and Jungkook. Points were scored here and there and it wasn’t until the commentator  announced Slytherin’s win when you noticed your seeker holding the golden snitch. The students from your house were up on their seats, yelling in victory. We did it. I won against Jeon Jungkook. The thought alone made you so happy, you didn’t notice the latter flew closer to you. 

“Good game, Y/N,” Jungkook says without any trace of sarcasm and you send him a small smile before going back to celebrating your team’s win. 

Second Year

You practically slam the common room door behind you and rush to Jungkook’s side. “I am so so sorry for taking so long, I just misplaced my book somewhere and-“

“Yeah yeah, apologize later. We’re late for Potions Class!” The two of you make a run for it down the hallway, pushing past other students and earning weird looks from them. Professor Granger will not let this slide and will probably give you both extra work. You could already picture the cold, mean scowl on her face.

“I can’t believe you made me wait for you outside your dormitory. Do you know how many times I’ve been glared at by your fellow snakes? I could’ve sworn one of them was trying to hex me,” Jungkook pants as you both continue to sprint down the corridor. 

“Shut it Jeon, this is just payback for when you made me late for Herbology.”

“That was a lame class anyway, you would’ve stayed in the courtyard with me if I didn’t remind you of the time.” 

The two of you finally reach your classroom and as you step inside, you were fairly surprised to see that Professor Granger hasn’t arrived yet. “Wow, and I thought we were in trouble,” says Jungkook, clearly relieved. Just then, the door slams behind you. Both of you make a slow dramatic turn to see narrowed eyes looking down at you two. 

“You’re late.”

Looking back, you can’t really pin-point where things started to go downhill between you two. You were practically inseparable, never found without the other. 

During your first two years in Hogwarts, he was your companion as you were his. You both experienced getting lost in the hallways, going up the wrong flight of stairs (they always switch when you least expect them to), and getting spooked by the house ghosts who randomly pop out of walls. Jungkook was also your partner when it came to learning quidditch, since you two shared the same love for the sport.

But as third year came along, things slowly began to change. Jungkook started to gain the attention of many students and even professors. He became known for his exceptional skills in quidditch and everyone was certain that professional teams were already lined up to scout him. You on the other hand, didn’t receive any less recognition. Students, especially younger girls, looked up to you. Many have assumed that you already have a spot reserved in the Holyhead Harpies team, but you chose to stay away from that spotlight and simply focus on perfecting your skills. 

But you can tell Jungkook is doing the exact opposite. You can see it in the way he enjoys having to carry a box of sweets and a dozen letters covered in pink and red hearts back to his dormitory almost everyday after class. It’s obvious in the way his cheeks flush pink when he walks in a room and girls start to gush over him. 

Your differences with one another become more apparent, causing both of you to spend less time together, which eventually comes to a halt all together. Keeping in touch with each other was no longer a priority and neither of you tried to change that.

Maybe you both simply grew up, or rather, grew apart.

It’s a sad yet inevitable ending, you’ll admit that. But as you continue to stare at the boy surrounded by his rowdy group of friends in the Great Hall who sat not too far from you, you can’t help but feel a sense of longing.

“Y/N, did you even hear a word I said?”

“Huh? Sorry I didn't catch that,” you switch your attention back to your friends, hoping they didn’t notice you just now.

“It’s that Jungkook guy isn’t it.”

“No it’s not.”

“Oh the hell it is! You were practically gawking at him,” your friend imitates your expression, erupting a fit of laughter around you.

“Whatever Wendy, it’s not like you don’t do the same when it comes to Mark.”

“Hey at least I admit it.”

“What happened to you two anyway? You guys were like, best buds two years ago,” Seulgi remembers meeting up with you two in the library and finding it odd for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be so close. Now you’re in your fifth year and your conversations with Jungkook only ever happen when you’re both in the pitch. You weren’t even sure if you could consider them as conversations since all you ever say to each other are insults and sarcastic blows. 

“I don’t know, his head grew the size of a hippogriff and suddenly he’s too cool to be my friend,” you shrug as you take a bite off your bagel. Jungkook still holds a special place in your life but you’re never going to admit that. Despite everything that happened between you two, he’ll always be that kid who had a hard time summoning his broomstick. 

“What a tragic love story,” Wendy feigns pain, placing a hand over her chest before giggling. “But back to the main topic at hand, you and I still need to find a date.” That’s right, the Celestial Ball was just around the corner and you couldn’t care less about who to go with.

“Can’t I just fly solo? It’s not like anyone wants to take me anyway.”

“Might wanna rethink that statement Y/N,” Seulgi grins as she nods towards Jungkook’s direction. You turn back to see him staring right at you. He doesn’t even break his gaze, as if he was studying every little detail on your face. The intimacy of the situation was too much for you, so you look away. 

On any given day, you would love to hang out in the courtyard. The gentle breeze and overall ambiance of the place was just the perfect setting for you to relax and even read a book in. But with the Celestial Ball only two weeks away, it wasn’t that much of a surprise to see the place filled with students and couples asking each other to be their dates. And no, you weren’t some bitter bystander who despised the thought of young love, but there’s a fine line between appropriate display of affection and snogging behind a tree. 

You’ve just about had it and was about to give up on having some peaceful alone time when a shadow towers over you. You look up to see a boy with black and gold draping over his shoulders and a grin you could’ve easily mistaken for the sun.

“Hey! How’s my favorite chaser doing?”

Kim Seokmin, 6th year Hufflepuff and head boy. You knew each other from past quidditch games and were fairly acquainted with one another. He was his team’s keeper and with his tall, lean frame, you remember it being almost impossible getting a ball through their ring. Unfortunately, he got severely injured on his left leg from a game during a thunderstorm last year and has stopped playing since then. It’s a shame because he was one of the best players in all of Hogwarts.

“Not any better now that you’re here,” you jokingly respond. Seokmin simply chuckles at this and takes up the space next to yours on the bench.

“Aww c’mon, just because you won against Gryffindor you’re suddenly too good for me? I am hurt Y/N,” Seokmin clutches his chest in exaggerated pain, erupting a giggle from you as you grab the end of his scarf and swat it across his face. 

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I got you to laugh though,” he wraps an arm around your shoulders and your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected contact. It’s very clear to you now how this guy was placed in Hufflepuff with his tangible enthusiasm radiating off of him. Looking at him now, you couldn’t help but notice how the yellow of his robes match his skin tone and the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles were the perfect embodiment of his House.

“Listen, I actually came up to you cause I have something important to ask,” he spoke in a lower, more serious tone this time.

“What is it?”

“Well.. with the ball coming up and from what I know, you currently don't have a date, i was just wondering if maybe.. you would want to go with me?” Seokmin glances over to your bewildered face, waiting for a response. You were definitely not expecting to be asked out, let alone by a 6th year student you’ve rarely talked to. As you internally debate on an answer, a voice startles you from behind.

“Y/N! I have been looking for you everywhere!” Jungkook sneaks up to you two from behind a pillar, effectively getting Seokmin to remove his arm from you out of shock. The doe eyed boy continues to nudge himself between you two, taking a seat on the already crowded bench.

“I should probably go, but let me know as soon as possible alright? See ya around,” Seokmin sends you a quick wink before jogging back to his group of friends.

“What’s up with you and Donkey Kong?” Jungkook lays across the bench and rests his head on your lap, placing his forearm over his eyes.

“First of all, it’s Seokmin, and second, what makes you think you can use me as your personal pillow?”

“Do you like him?” he asks, completely ignoring your retaliation.

“That’s none of your business Jungkook.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“Why does it even matter to you?”

“He’s older than you.”

“He’s literally just a year above us and only a few months older than you.”

“Jeez now you’re defending him? Someone’s whipped,” Jungkook lowers his arm to send you a disgusted look, making you shove him off your lap. You’re satisfied to hear a muted thud as he lands on the ground.

“Whoever I like and dislike is not important, so drop it m’kay?” You’ve always hated confrontations since you were never really good at coming to terms with your own feelings. Yes, Seokmin may be a sweet guy, but having Jungkook press an answer out of you was very irritating. You get up to leave immediately when Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Wait, what’s your next class?”

“I’m done for the day, I’m headed back to my dorm.” 

“I’ll walk you back.” Jungkook doesn’t even wait for you to decline his offer as he practically drags you down the corridor. Only when you stop resisting is when Jungkook drops his grip on you. 

The walk to your dorm was suffocatingly silent. It wasn’t because you were awkward around him, not at all. You’ve strolled around the castle together in silence multiple times yet this moment felt very new to you. Walking next to him, you notice how much taller he’s grown and how his shoulders have broadened, jawline more prominent and wavy hair just perfectly resting over his eyebrows. It felt like being next to a whole different person. But as he glances at you with those all too familiar eyes of his, you were certain that nothing has changed. That kid you once called your best friend was still in him.

“Dude, I know you hate me but you gotta stop shooting invisible lasers to my head.” There’s a small hop to his steps and you realize just how much you actually miss him.

“I don’t hate you.” You say this mostly to yourself but Jungkook hears it. He holds back the smile that creeps up to his lips, clearing his throat to break the tension between you two.

As much as you enjoyed having him around, your mind starts to go on overdrive. It has literally been years since the two of you hung out like this, so what’s with the sudden change? Losing touch with him was one of the worst things to have ever happened to you and you’re not sure if you ever want to experience that again. All those times of wondering what went wrong and blaming yourself for not being good enough of a friend came flashing back, causing you to stop on your tracks. It takes Jungkook a second to notice that you’ve trailed behind him before he turns to you. “You alright Y/N?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your eyes stay glued to the ground as you fidget on the sleeves of your robes, a habit of yours whenever you were nervous and Jungkook was quick to notice this.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t walked me back to my dorm in 2 years. Why are you doing this?” Jungkook remains silent. The truth is he knew exactly why, but he didn't know what took him so long to do so. Disappointed in his lack of his response, you trudge past him.

“Forget it, I can walk back from here. You can go.” You don’t even spare him a glance as you make your way down the stairs to the dungeon. Jungkook remains frozen in his spot as he watches your figure disappear before him, smacking the side of his head in annoyance. He may be confident and self-assured when it comes to quidditch, but dealing with you was a whole other ball game. He glances to his wristwatch before sprinting down the hallway to his Transfiguration class, which he purposely skipped on to accompany you to your dorm.

You couldn’t sleep that night. It was 2am and you have been tossing and turning in your bed for an hour now, causing a few groans and complaints from your roommates. You knew there was no point in trying to get some sleep so you quickly grab your sweater and broomstick before quietly sneaking out of the common room. After years of learning Mr. Filch’s schedule, you knew he was probably wandering around the Ravenclaw Tower by now. 

Sneaking off to the quidditch pitch was something you frequently did whenever you felt troubled and needed a place to clear your mind. Something about being in that enclosed field just puts your mind at ease, whether it be flying around it or sitting on the bleachers. You make your way to the center of the pitch and look up at the towering rings that used to intimidate you. With the stars out in the midnight sky, it takes you back to the first time you and Jungkook snuck out here past curfew hours as curious first year students.

“Woah, they’re so much taller than i thought!” You practically gawk at the sky high goal posts. “Can you imagine flying any higher than that?”

“Please, one day I’m gonna fly soooo far up the sky, I bet you I can grab a star,” Jungkook muses, crossing his arms over his chest in fake arrogance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s impossible,” you shake your head at the absurdity of his words.

“You underestimate my skills Y/N! Mark my words, one day I’m gonna grab all the stars in the sky and give them to you.” The confidence in his voice was so endearing, you unconsciously held onto the promise.

“Learn how to fly better than me first,” you playfully shove him before running across the field, having him chase after you. 

Mr. Filch catches you two that night, landing both of you a whole week of detention. You smile at the bittersweet memory as you position yourself on your broomstick. How naive were you back then to assume he’d remain in your life forever. People eventually grow apart, you know this now as you soar above the quidditch pitch and fail to reach for a star.

It’s been a week since you last spoke to Jungkook and you rarely get to see him nowadays. The only times you did were during lunch and dinner in the great hall or in some of your shared classes. He was avoiding you, you knew that much, but you couldn't understand why it left a hole in your chest. This wasn’t anything new to you. Both of you rarely exchanged words with one another ever since you drifted apart, but to see him purposely avoid you bothered you more than you would like to admit.

“Y/N,” Seulgi snaps her fingers across your face to get your attention. You have been zoning out again.

“Hm?”

“Your potion,” You glance down to your cauldron to see its liquids overflowing and spilling on your work desk. You quickly grab the washcloth to clean up your mess, a bit irritated at how you screwed up.

“What’s gotten into you lately? It’s not like you to space out like that,” you can hear the worry in Seulgi’s voice but quickly dismiss her with a wave of your hand.

“It’s nothing, just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I know, I hear you sneak out from time to time,” Seulgi helps you out with your potion, scanning through her textbook to read the ingredients. “You know you can talk to me if anything’s bothering you, right?” Your friends know you well enough to know that you cringe at sentiments, so you can’t help but chuckle at how passive Seulgi was trying to be at comforting you, not even sparing you a glance as she adds ingredients into your cauldron.

“I know.” You’re grateful for your friends. As much as you hated relying on other people for your problems, which was called out to be such a Slytherin trait of yours, it was nice knowing someone had your back. Besides, you weren’t going to let some boy bring your mood down like this. You were better than that. You swore from that day on that you were over the whole Jungkook situation. You were sure of it.

At least you thought you were.

Which was why you were surprised to see him two days later, waiting for you outside your common room.

“Jungkook?” He looks up at the sound of your voice and smiles as he walks up to you and Seulgi. “What are you doing here?”

“Our timetables match today so I thought we could go to class together,” he quickly glances over to Seulgi, slightly dipping his head. “May I borrow your friend for the day?”

“We actually made plans-”

“Right! I, uh, actually have to meet up with Wendy for this thing, we have, going on,” Seulgi sends you a knowing look. “You guys go ahead! I’ll see you at lunch?” she spares you no second to reply, side hugging you before speed walking down the hallway. 

“I still find it weird how your dorm is literally next to the dungeons,” Jungkook leans down to whisper to your ear, causing you to jump back a bit. “Like c’mon, Salazar could’ve chosen a homier spot,”

“Why are you doing this?” This time, you were hoping for an actual answer. Cause honestly, you were mad, pissed even at how Jungkook thinks he could just approach you like this- like he hasn’t been avoiding you these past few days. But even as you glare at him, a small part of you is happy to see him. He keeps his calm composure and takes a step closer to you, careful not to break eye contact.

“I wanna do things right this time.” 

You ponder at this for a second. “What does that even-”

“But that means you can’t ask questions,” he flashes you that stupid grin of his, before snatching your books from your hands. “Now let’s go! We’re gonna miss our first class!”

You choose not to question him since you were already confused as it is, but you must admit that the small gesture of him carrying your things warmed your heart. Jungkook seemed to be a lot more chatty this time, going on and on about his group of friends and the many shenanigans they’ve been up to. You recognized Yoongi and Jimin since they were in the same house as you and even spoke to the latter one a couple of times since he was your team’s seeker. You pretend to be disinterested in his stories when really you’ve been noting down every single detail in your head, piecing together what makes Jungkook the boy he is today. He’s grown more confident over the years and you can see it in the way he walks with his head held high, in every diction of his words, and how he isn’t afraid to voice out his opinions. It was nothing like the shy little kid who used to tail behind you all the time and had a stutter when he spoke- it was a whole new better version of him. 

Jungkooks sits next to you in all your shared classes, pestering you in every way he can but still being careful not to cross the line. Every side comment he whispers earns him a smack or pinch on the arm, but you can’t help but laugh every single time. He kept you company through the dull lectures, casting little charms under your desk for entertainment. You watch as he whispers an incantation to the bird origami he folded just a few minutes ago, seeing it slowly flutter its wings. He picks it up and softly blows it towards your face. Your eyes follow the flying piece of paper in amusement as it floats above your head. How have you not heard of this charm before? The paper bird lands on Jungkook’s outstretched hand and he has this smug look on his face you can’t exactly read.

“What?”

“You're smiling.” He gestures to your lips. “It suits you. You should do that more often.”

It takes you a second to realize that there’s a little ache on your cheeks from grinning, and another second to completely wipe out the expression from your face. “You say that as if I have a permanent bitch face on me.”

He laughs. “Not at all. Let me rephrase that then. You should smile more often around me.”

You roll your eyes to hide the fact that you know that wouldn’t be too hard to do.

This goes on for another week and it’s been nothing but fun. The two of you have gotten more comfortable with each other and unconsciously settled in a routine. Jungkook continues to meet you outside your dorm everyday, dropping you off to your classrooms whenever he can. He eventually got you to agree on having lunch with him at least two times a week, just enough times so that you both can still hang out with your own sets of friends.

Although this doesn’t stop Jungkook from introducing them to you. When he asked you to meet up with him in the Clock Tower Courtyard, he didn’t mention six other boys would be tagging along. Just as you were about to make a run for it, he catches you before you can and obnoxiously yells out your name. Yeah, definitely can’t hide now.

If it weren’t for the obvious excitement in his eyes, you wouldn’t be walking towards the fountain they were gathered in. He introduces them to you and most of them were pretty welcoming (you can’t say the same for Yoongi and Namjoon though). It flattered you how Jungkook wanted to include you in this part of his life. It was something else witnessing it first hand. Seven boys from different Houses? You’d expect a clash of different personalities that will result in endless arguments and disagreements, but instead, they mix together beautifully. 

You’re grateful Jungkoook has them. He grew up with the best kinds of people.

Then a thought crosses your mind. You could say he was living an almost perfect life right now. If your fall out with Jungkook led him to these people, to be the confident guy he is today, then maybe it was for the best.  Maybe you don’t regret it a single bit. 

Maybe you were holding him back this whole time.

Maybe he’s better off without you.

The thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue and effectively changes your whole mood for the rest of the day. Luckily, you didn’t have any plans with Jungkook after classes so you use this time wisely; to mope around. What better way to deal with your whirlwind of mentions than by wallowing in self-pity? 

Wendy seems to think otherwise.

“Y/N, you better start making some bloody sense.”

“Enough of this please.”

“Not until you explain to me why you’re acting this way!” A distant shush is heard and Wendy is suddenly reminded that you’re both in the library. She speaks in a quieter tone this time but you can still hear the annoyance through her gritted teeth. 

“I just don’t get it. I specifically don't get you.”

“Well I didn’t ask you to meet me here to be understood. I just needed a friend to talk to, but clearly you don’t get that.” You continue to scribble down notes onto your parchment paper and try to block out any more of Wendy’s interrogation. You can tell she’s hurt from what you said but this definitely wasn’t the response you were expecting when you decided on opening up to her. You came to the conclusion that ending whatever it is you have with Jungkook will be beneficial to both of you and you expected Wendy to be on board with this. But apparently she is strongly against it.

“Y/N listen to me,” she snatches the quill from your hand and you knew better than to argue with her. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly what’s going on in that stubborn head of yours but you better learn how to come to terms with your feelings immediately or you’re gonna end up hurting someone,” she tosses the quill back to you before standing up to leave, but you don’t miss the last words she murmurs.

“Maybe even yourself.”

You hate it when she reads you like a book and especially hate it when you know she’s right. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re growing more attached to Jungkook by the second. Things are slowly going back to the way they were, but for what? A setup for more disappointment? You’ve convinced yourself that Jungkook doesn’t really need you in his life, so why is he trying to get you back in it? You’re afraid you know the answer to that already.

“Want some?” Jungkook’s mouth is stuffed with sweets as he hands you a box of chocolates. You eye it suspiciously. It was neatly decorated with pink sparkly wrappings and a red ribbon around it.

“Not when it looks like it’s tampered with some sort of love potion.” You lean away from it and Jungkook chuckles.

“Nah, I had Namjoon check it for me. We’re on the clear,” he continues to pop more of them between his lips. There’s a paper stuck to the box’s lid and you could easily make up the cursive writings on it.

‘Dear Jungkook

My heart only beats for you. Go to the Ball with me?

                                xoxo                                Arabella’

The thought of him receiving love letters and gifts bothered you a lot more than you hoped, which is rather stupid cause you can clearly see why. Jungkook is a very dateable guy after all. Did I just say that?

“Arabella huh? The cute redhead from Gryffindor?”

“I mean I guess she’s cute,” Jungkook continues to talk with a mouthful of chocolates. “A lil’ too quirky for my taste though. And she always stares at me in the common room! It’s very unsettling,” he shudders at the memory but is quick to notice the slight scowl on your face.

“Why? You jealous?” there’s a hint of tease to the way he says it and you scoff.

“Absolutely not.” 

He laughs as you both continue to walk to the Great Hall. You weren’t supposed to have lunch together until next week but you found it easy to persuade Jungkook into making this exception. It pains you a bit to see how happy this made him when you were already composing the few sentences that will ultimately break this friendship in your head. This only lasts a second until you convince yourself that this will be much harder for you than it ever will be for him.

“So the Celestial Ball is in two days.”

“Yep, it sure is.”

“You have a date yet?”

“Nope.” You sigh in disinterest. You never thought much into having a date. As long as there’s good food, good music, and the company of your friends, you’re sold. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have someone in mind.

“Really? So you said no to Seokmin?” He seemed genuinely surprised and somewhat..  relieved?

“Not really. I just haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him.”

“So.. you’d say yes?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake just worry about your own date!” You roll your eyes. “But I’m guessing you’d be going with Arabella?”

Jungkook frowns. “Do you think I should?” The question dangled carefully from his lips with hesitance. You can’t point it out exactly but it's like he was expecting a specific answer from you. 

“Why should my opinion matter? It’s not like I’m your best friend or anything.” This comes out harsher than you intended and halts Jungkook in his tracks.

“Where the hell did that from?” He says this like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. But wasn’t it simply the truth? You try not to let his clear frustration get to you.

“Look, you can stop this whole ‘making amends with your old friend’ thing you’ve been doing. I don’t need a friend out of pity. That was two years ago and I no longer hold a grudge against you. Shit happens. We’ve changed since then. You’ve changed.”

He scoffs. “And that’s all on me, huh?” he takes a step closer until he’s only inches away from your face. “Everything that has ever gone wrong with us is all because of me. Is that what you’re trying to say?” Jungkook has never raised his voice at you until now. For once you were actually scared of him.

“I never said..”

“You changed too Y/N! Yet I never held that against you,” he was practically seething at this point. “I never once blamed your personal choices for getting in between our friendship, cause they were all for you! Even after you started spending less time with me out of nowhere, I just thought of it as you being your independent self. You think I wanted this to happen to us?”

You’re at loss for words. Up until now, neither of you have ever spoken about this. It was sort of a silent agreement to pretend that there wasn’t this looming tension between you two. You should’ve known one of you was bound to slip at some point. No one dares to speak up, both waiting for the other to say something, anything to end this.

“Is that really what you think this is?” His hand gestures between you two. “Is this really just some sort of compensation to you? That I’m doing this out of pity?" Your lack of denial forces him to believe so.

Every muscle in him was aching for you to reassure him that this past week meant just as much to you as it did to him. That he wasn’t clouded by the fake judgment that things were going extremely well. There’s a pleading look in his eyes when a voice interrupts you two.

“Y/N!” Seokmin runs up to you, completely oblivious. “Have you gotten my owl? I've been trying to reach you this whole week but never heard back from you! I was starting to worry.” It amazed you how dense someone could be. Jungkook doesn’t even spare him a glance as he continues to stare you down.

“Guess you never really knew me after all,” and with a twist of his heel, he walks away, discarding the box of chocolates to the nearest bin. What a waste of food.

You knew you should’ve chased after him. Jungkook may be a brat at times but he would never act on things irrationally. If you were to explain everything to him, this just might have ended on a better note.

But neither of that happens as you let him slip away from your life for the second time.

“I’m sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?” You can see the slight guilt in Seokmin’s eyes so you force yourself to smile at him.

“It’s nothing. Oh gosh I haven’t visited the owlery recently, your letters are probably still there! I’m really sorry,” and you genuinely were. But you just found it hard to care at the moment with Jungkook’s words still echoing at the back of your head.

Seokmin chuckles. “Hey, don’t worry about it. No harm done.” He looks at you pointedly. “But you still owe me an answer Y/N.” 

You don’t doubt for a second that you would enjoy yourself if you were to go with him to the ball. Seokmin was known for being the light of the party with his funny antics and humor, anyone would be lucky to have him as a date.

You stare at yourself through the mirror, eyeing the emerald green cloth flow just above your ankles. You thought you looked pretty decent. To finish the look, you decide to tie your hair up into a ponytail to keep any loose strands from falling to your face. 

Seulgi walks in the room dressed in a red mermaid dress that compliments her figure. She has her hair styled down and makeup done naturally. The ball isn’t for another two hours and she already looks ready to go. Her eyes immediately land on you, specifically on what you’re wearing.

“Um, you do know there’s a formal dress code, right?” She laughs nervously, hoping what she’s seeing is a practical joke. “Y/N please tell me you just got back from practice or something.” She scans the quidditch gear that covers you from top to bottom. This definitely wasn’t the dress you bought together in Diagon Alley before the year started.

“I’m not going Seulgi, I already told you this.”

“Nooo! You can’t ditch me and Wendy like this!”

“Don’t you guys have dates?” You quirk an eyebrow at her. “If anyone’s getting ditched, it'll be me if I attend the ball.”

“It’s not my fault you rejected Seokmin,” She sits on the edge of your bed. “And I promise I’ll ditch Teddy for you if you ever get bored, so can you pretty pretty pleeeease go with us?” She sprawls herself across your bedding and flashes you the saddest puppy dog eyes she could muster. You laugh and throw a pillow to her face.

 “Nice try, but still no.”

“God you’re impossible.” Seulgi pushes herself up and walks to your closet. You glance back to the mirror as you tighten the straps of your quidditch gloves. A quick drill around the pitch will probably be enough to get your mind off everything.

After rummaging through your pile of clothes, Seulgi finds the piece of garment she was looking for. She pulls out a black sheath dress and holds it up close to your face. 

“When I come back, you better be out of that uniform and in this beautiful dress I oh-so-carefully picked out for you, okay?” She shoves the clothing to your hands, flashing you a grin before darting towards the door. “Five minutes, Y/N! Then I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

You open your mouth to protest when Seulgi slams the dorm behind her. God she could be so pushy sometimes. The dress feels soft against your fingers as you lay it out across your bed to get a good look at it. Its sleeves are off shouldered with a modest slit on the skirt that ends just by the knee. Aside from the little lace patterns around the waistline, the dress is completely plain. It’s the perfect evening gown for you. Seulgi has a good eye for clothes, you must admit that. 

It probably wouldn’t hurt to just try it on...

Two hours later,  you’re standing near the entrance to the great hall with an overexcited Seulgi clinging onto your arm. Students dressed in suits and gowns slowly start to pack the venue, meeting up with their friends and partners and you unknowingly become more anxious at the thought of bumping into Jungkook.

“Over here!” Seulgi waves a hand to the sea of people and a guy maneuvers around them to get to you. 

“Hello,” The boy you recognized as Teddy Lupin smiles, leaning in to hug Seulgi. “I’m glad you can make it!” he adds to you.

“My friend here can be very persuasive.”

Seulgi grins. “Damn right I am. So, shall we?”

The walls of the Great Hall had all been covered in velvety midnight blue textiles with silver sparkles that resemble those of stars, decorating them from top to bottom. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. Over your heads, thousands of candles were floating mid air and the enchanted ceiling no longer resembled the sky outside. Instead, it was filled with constellations and planets you learned about in Astronomy class. The three of you stare up at them in astonishment when Wendy sneaks up from behind you.

“Pretty cool huh?” she nods her head towards the ceiling. “I persuaded Professor McGonagall into letting the decorating committee change the view for the night. This place just didn’t scream ‘celestial’ to me before that.”

You’re still gazing at the ceiling when you reply. “Woah Wendy, you guys did a really good job with this place.”

“I know, I know, no need to flatter me,” she jokes. “Come on you guys, I still haven’t introduced to you my date!”

Of course Wendy was able to land herself a date and it wasn’t a surprise to you that it was with Mark, the guy she has been crushing on for months now.  Their attires even matched in sapphire blue color and you were pleased to see how much they got along. 

You didn't want to admit it, but you ended up having a blast that night. Your friends kept you company the whole time, being sure to include you in their conversations with their dates, who you found to be very friendly. You silently thank Seulgi in your head cause if it weren’t for her, you would be missing out on all this fun.

Across the room, you see Seokmin occupying a table with his friends. He took things well when you rejected his date proposal and made sure there weren’t any hard feelings between you two after that. His eyes meet yours and he sends you a smile, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. Turns out he ended up going dateless as well. He mouths the words ‘this could’ve been you’, making you laugh.

You’re glad things are okay between you two, but you wished you could say the same for Jungkook.

Come to think of it, you haven't seen that boy at all tonight. 

Where is he anyway?

“Let’s dance!!” You watch your friends pull their partners with them to the end of the hall where a band was performing on stage. Dinner has ended and everyone is now up on their feet and headed to the dance floor. Seulgi gestures for you to join them but you instead wave a hand for them to go ahead.

“I’ll join you guys later! Just gonna go get some fresh air,” you practically yell over the thumping music before walking towards the entrance hall.

You stop just past the ceiling high doors when the music fades into faint beats. As you step away from the crowd of people, you let out a breath you’ve unknowingly been holding in. A cold breeze brushes against your skin, causing you to shiver. If you knew it was going to be chilly you would’ve brought a cloak with you or something.

“Need a jacket?” You’re surprised to see Jungkook’s friend standing next to you, offering you his blazer in his outstretched hand.

You shake your head. “I’m alright, thank you.” 

“Y/N right?” He slings his blazer over his shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m really bad with names.”

“That’s me. And you’re Taehyung?”

He nods and shoots you a boxy grin. You both say nothing else after that and stand together in silence for a few minutes, turning to look back at the party every once in a while.

“He was looking for you, you know.”

“Jungkook’s here?” 

“Well, was. He left right after dinner.” Taehyung turns to face you when u remain silent.

“He talks about you a lot you know, even way back when I first got acquainted with him.”

“Nothing too bad I hope,” you muster a small laugh to hide how nervous you are.

He shakes his head. “No no, he always gushes about how close you guys were and how you’re the reason he even plays quidditch in the first place.”

You finally face him, eyes wide in shock. “He said that?” Taehyung simply nods.

“Yeah, you clearly meant a great deal to him if any of the stuff he told me was something to go by,” Taehyung turns to face the open doors of the Great Hall and his eyes immediately land on someone.

“You know, out of all the guys I'm probably the one who relates with him the most.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

He shrugs. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to pine for someone so clueless.”

You cock a questioning brow at him. When he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, you follow his gaze which lands on a girl with her back facing you two. 

“What are you trying to say?”

“Jungkook’s a good guy, and unlike me, he’s not afraid to act on his feelings,” Taehyung smiles at you, bringing a hand up to ruffle your hair. “You guys should talk things out.”

The brotherly gesture warms your heart and you knew he was right. You owe it to Jungkook to explain everything that’s been on your mind- to finally come to terms with your own feelings.

“I don’t even know where he is,” you look down in dismay.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” and with one quick nudge of his elbow, he walks back to the party, glancing back at you after a few steps. “He’s a pretty predictable guy.”

Catching onto his subtle hint, you quickly thank him before sprinting down the corridor. 

Being in the stands had a different kind of excitement to it. From where Jungkook was seated, he could see the landscape of the field that somehow seemed larger than usual compared to when he’s up flying around it. He starts to play scenes from old matches in his head, including the very first game he had against you.

You. The thought he had been trying to suppress the whole day.

It certainly didn’t help seeing you in the ball, all dressed up and happy despite the argument you two had only a few days back. He also hated to admit how pleased he was to see you without a date, as if he stood any chance with you to begin with.

“Why does she have to be so stubborn,” he breathes out to himself, chuckling at the situation he’s found himself in.

But he knew he had his faults. He felt that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you that day. If he were being honest, he didn’t even know how things led to that. It’s as if something snapped in him, like everything he had pent up inside came rushing out. He was better than that. Not once has he ever let his emotions get the best of him like that.

It’s crazy how much you can affect him like this.

“I thought you’d be here.”

For a moment, Jungkook believes he’s hallucinating when he sees you standing a few rows down from where he sat. Only when you cautiously take a seat next to him is when he realizes that this is all very much real. Suddenly hyper aware of your presence, Jungkook sits upright and clears his throat.

“Boring party?”

“Oh not at all. I took advantage of the unlimited meals then dipped.”

Jungkook laughs and you’re convinced it's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I actually pocketed some of the flavored beans on our table,” he fishes them out from his dress robe and shows them to you. “Want one?”

You can’t help but giggle at the sight of him pulling out colorful beans from his dapper attire, as if it were the most normal thing to do. “Sure, but you know how bad my luck is when it comes to picking out the good flavors.”

“Hmm sucks to be you huh?” Jungkook smirks.

You both pick out a jelly bean from the bunch, clicking them together before popping them into your mouths. You’re pleased to taste cherries coat your tongue and clasp your hands together.

“I didn’t get a vomit flavoured one!”

You look over to Jungkook and see him grimace, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “That was definitely booger…”

You burst into a fit of laughter, throwing your body back and unknowingly lean on Jungkook’s shoulder. He frowns down at you but it contradicts the pink shade that began to taint his cheeks.

The two of you spend the rest of the night laughing and poking fun at each other, which later on settled into small conversations. The winter air makes itself known once more as it blows past you, making you shiver and the goosebumps on your arms rise. Jungkook notices this and quickly takes his coat off, draping them over your shoulders without acknowledging it. He knew you’d refuse the gesture if he did.

Suddenly you felt ashamed. Even after lashing out on him, Jungkook chose to be civil with you and act as if nothing happened. He could’ve easily gotten up and left as soon as he saw you yet here he is, still making you happy without fail. 

You’ve decided that you’re done avoiding confrontation. 

A moment of silence fills the air as your eyes meet. 

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

You both chorus at the same time. Jungkook chuckles, gesturing for you to continue. “Ladies first.”

Despite the cool weather, your palms clam up out of nerves as you focus on the unsteady beat of your heart. Wiping off the sweat against your skirt, you build up the courage to voice out the next words you’re about to say.

“Up until recently, I never realized how much I blamed you for our ‘falling-out’. I’ve convinced myself that the sole reason you and I were no longer friends was because you didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore- or that I wasn’t cool enough to be your friend. Cause, well, I am pretty boring if you ask me,”

There’s a subtle tremble to your voice as you go on and you skillfully mask this with unnecessary arm gestures as you speak. At this very moment, Jungkook has never been more endeared. Maybe he’s always been this smitten, but seeing you ramble on all nervous around him, he can’t seem to fight the smile that sneaks onto his lips.

“but that's where I went wrong. I let my insecurities get the best of me and affect our friendship, relationship, or whatever it is we have going on-”

“You think there’s something going on between us?” Jungkook cuts you off mid babble. There’s a hint of playfulness in his tone and it takes you a second to catch onto his insinuations. You smack his arm.

“I’m being serious!” Your brows knit together in mock annoyance and Jungkook laughs, reaching a hand out to rest it on top of yours. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, please continue.”

You glance at your joined hands on your lap, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your palm. Now that you think about it, Jungkook has always been more physical in his love language and that may be why you guys got along so well. You were never really great with words, much less receiving them, and so was Jungkook. It was always either tight hugs or a shoulder to cry on whenever he would comfort you. But with the way Jungkook’s ears turn red, you can’t help but think that maybe there was more to those innocent touches.

“I had a lot of self-doubts, especially after spending so much time with you these past couple of days. I guess you could say I was intimidated? You just seemed better off with this new life you had without me. I don’t know- I just didn’t see a reason for you to want me back in it.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak but he keeps his eyes trained on you. He has his lips pressed in a thin line, clearly processing everything you just poured out to him. Sometimes you wonder if he knew he had this affect on you, cause most times you don’t even realize it yourself. You never really understood why a part of you would get all flustered over the menial things he did, but you have a pretty good guess lingering at the back of your head.

“You think too much.” This is the only response he gives you before you snatch your hands away from his grasp. 

“E-excuse me??” You didn’t really know what to expect for a response, but this certainly wasn’t one of it. Jungkook clicks his tongue as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if the answer was blaring right in front of you.

“Y/N, I never wanted you out of my life in the first place,” he says as a matter of fact. “and I hate how I let it happen. I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but the attention people gave me was so new and to be honest, I enjoyed it,” Jungkook pauses, leaning back with palms resting on either side of him. “You knew how shy I was back then and I wasn’t really confident in myself. Funnily enough, I was also intimidated by you,” he chuckles mostly to himself. “I wanted to be more than this timid kid who stuck by your hip 24/7. I wanted my quidditch skills to be recognized, to show people what I’m made of, and even though I got that in the end, I let you down in the process.” 

He was intimidated by you? The Jeon Jungkook felt this way around you? It’s almost laughable how similar your thought process was this entire time. “Well shit, I guess we’re both stupid.”

Jungkook laughs and you watch as his eyes crinkle up. You always found that facial asset of his attractive. 

“It also didn’t help how I had this big crush on you. Yes, I was this prepubescent boy trying so hard to impress y-”

“You what?” If you were a cartoon, your eyes would be popping out of its sockets right now. He liked me?

Jungkook finally looks at you with an arched brow. “Wait, you never knew?”

You practically scoff. “I’m not a damn mind reader!” You debate on whether you should ask what’s on your mind before giving in. “But.. had? As in, it’s in the past?”

You regret your question almost immediately when this playful smirk graces Jungkook's lips. It looked as if he was waiting for this exact moment the whole night. He sits up and turns his body to face you so you’re forced to look back at him. Jungkook leans dangerously close that you could smell his cologne from where he sat. “What do you think?” he asks in a lower register.

At this point, you can’t help the annoyance that flashes across your face. Why does he keep beating around the bush? Did he like making you this flustered? It takes a lot out of you to shove him back by the chest with an irritated huff. Literally anyone could get lost in those beautiful eyes of his. “That’s why I asked, genius.”

Jungkook grins as he was sure you weren’t as mad as you made yourself to be. This was the front you always had with everyone but he could see right through you. He admires this tough exterior of yours, but must admit that he enjoys breaking them down even more.

“I have something for you,” Jungkook completely changes the course of the conversation but your curiosity gets the better of you when you see him reaching for something in his pant pockets. Before he pulls the mystery item out, he looks at you. “but you should have your eyes closed.”

Too tired to fight back, you do as he says. “You better not be pulling out your wand to hex me or something.” 

He giggles before it goes silent again. A few seconds pass and you think that he might have just up and left you alone in the bleachers. Before you could open your eyes to confirm this, you feel a cold, metallic sphere being placed on your right palm. You look down to see it’s a golden snitch.

“It’s not much but i’ve been wanting to give this to you for a while now. I found it in my room while I was cleaning some stuff out.”

“You stole this from the storage room?” 

“Of course not!” Jungkook says defensively. “...Professor McGonagall caught me going through Madam Hooch’s things and let me keep it when I confessed.”

“That’s it?” You try to coax the whole story out, knowing full well Professor is not that forgiving.

“...She also gave me 2 weeks worth of detention.” This gets you to laugh, though you couldn’t help but wonder what’s so important about this golden snitch that he had to go through all that just to retrieve it. As if he’s read your mind, or from the way you were intently studying the ball, he continues. “Do you remember our first match against each other? During our 2nd year?” 

You groan inwardly at this. “Yeah, your team won.” 

“Because?” Jungkook eggs you on.

You openly glare at him this time, venom lacing into your response. “Because I committed Snitchnip*.”

Jungkook grins triumphantly at your admission. “Still don’t get how you made such mistake.” It amuses him how competitive you could get over such little things, but it was one of your many charms he was drawn into. He reaches out to teasingly pinch your cheek. From this close proximity, he notices the light makeup applied on your face- eyelids covered in a light brown hue and lips a darker shade of red. Not that you needed any to begin with in his opinion, but you looked exceptionally beautiful tonight. Has he mentioned that to you? He thought now wasn’t the right time to bring it up though. “There there, it’s all in the past. And besides, you’ve improved a lot since then.”

“Yeah cause I forced you to practice with me every night after that incident,” you smile at the memory. It didn’t matter at the time that you and Jungkook were from opposing teams that were known to rarely get along. All you knew was that you enjoyed training with him more than anyone, including your own teammates. You convince yourself that it was because he was the most challenging player to go against, but truthfully you just genuinely enjoyed his company. “So, is this the ball that made me lose?”

Jungkook hums in agreement before grabbing the golden snitch from your hand. “You know how these things have flesh memory, right?” 

You nod. “That’s how they knew I caught it,  by accident,” you emphasize the last two words.

“And which hand did you say caught it?”

You wondered where this was going. “Well I didn’t, but my left one.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheeks as he loosens his grip on the golden snitch until his palm is laid out flat. The snitch’s wings appear and slowly fly up, hovering just by his eye level. He turns to face you and gestures towards the ball. “I don’t know if it’ll work but, try grabbing it with your left hand.”

Despite the many questions you have, you do as you are told. Jungkook seemed nervous about this that you couldn’t help but anticipate what’s to happen next. Once it’s within your grasp, you look at Jungkook expectantly. This makes him giggle, his hand shyly rubbing the back of his nape. “It’s no star, but I hope it gets the message across.”

You’re about to ask what he meant by that when it suddenly hits you.

“One day I’m gonna grab all the stars in the sky and give them to you.”

You bring the golden snitch up with your left hand and study it once more. With a single swipe of your thumb against its center, enchanted writings start to appear. 

“You shine brighter than anyone else,” you murmur the words to yourself.

“Too cheesy?” Jungkook quips nervously in an attempt to lessen the tension he’s built for himself. “I was actually worried the words won’t show up. You know, Seokjin taught me this enchantment just last week! They only appear when the snitch is in contact with it’s first touch. I didn’t think I could pull it off this well but oh thank Merlin it worked. I still feel like I could’ve gone with a better quote, but the guys said this was already good.”

His words have faded into white noise as you continue to stare at the writings engraved on the snitch. You can feel your heart swell up in happiness, excitement, literally every emotion in the book. He put so much thought into this gift and he dares say that it ‘isn’t much’? He could’ve given you a stone with a heart carved on it and you’d still think it was the sweetest thing ever.

You liked him. God, you liked him so much. How are you only realizing this now? Now that’s a lie, you knew you’ve had these feelings for him for a while now and you’ve been denying yourself of this for the longest time. It almost frustrates you how long it took for you to admit this to yourself. At this point, you knew you were openly staring at him with eyes filled with adoration, but he doesn’t seem to notice this as he is still rambling on.

“This also kinda answers the whole past or present question you had for me right? Ugh, I swear I could’ve dealt with this better if I wasn’t such a wuss back then. But hey, I’m here now pouring this all out to you and ready to get my heart stomped on and broken into a million pieces so please be gentle when you completely reject me-”

You shut him up the only way you seem fit at the moment. You press your lips against his and he visibly freezes. It seemed as if he forgot how to breathe, remaining completely still. Your confidence falters at this but just when you are about to pull away, Jungkook’s cups your cheek and kisses you back this time. His touch is feather light against your skin but it creates this huge wave of warmth inside of you- you were literally melting under his touch. His lips were warm and soft but would also slightly quiver as they glided against your own. You felt relieved to know that he was just as nervous as you are as it never crossed your mind that this was all new to him as well.

Jungkook on the other hand was on cloud nine. It was all too good to be true that even as he was kissing you, he found it hard to believe that any of this was really happening. He slowly pulls away from the kiss to look at you, the hand on your cheek moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Yep, this is real.

“Does this mean you like me back?” You both laugh at his question, foreheads resting against each other as you continue to look into each other's eyes.

“What do you think?” you imitate him, causing him to chuckle as he pulls you in for a hug. This better not be some wild jinx casted on him because he swears he’s never been this happy. Luck was definitely on his side today.

A roar of cheers echo the walls of the Great Hall. Students are crowded around the Gryffindor table, chanting the house name while waving their scarves and flags. As you push past them, you see the winning team celebrating with Jungkook, his teammates congratulating him with pats on the back and hair ruffles here and there. Amongst the commotion, he spots you as you smile at him and quickly excuses himself from the team. As he runs up to you, the students stand back to make way for him. Having everyone’s eyes on you two made you a bit uneasy, but this was eased off almost immediately when Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground as he spins you around. 

“Hey! Put me down, people are staring,” you say through giggles. Jungkook listens and carefully places you back on your feet but still keeps his arms around you. 

“Sorry, I was just happy to see my girl cheer for me.” The petname makes you blush and Jungkook flashes that boyish grin of his. He has gotten a lot more cheesier ever since you started exclusively dating, you weren’t sure if you could handle much more.

“You do know this means you’re up against Slytherin for finals next week, right?” you tilt your head to the side and feign cluelessness.

Jungkook is quick to match your taunt. “U-huh, and I don’t plan on losing this time.”

In losing battles, you have to admit to defeat and surrender, just like how you’ve completely given in to Jungkook and let him win you over. But that doesn’t me you’re always going to go easy on him.

“Neither do I,” you retort back with a smirk.

*Snitchnip -  a Quidditch foul that occurs when any player other than the Seeker catches or touches the Golden Snitch.

A/N: first story of the hogwarts series is finally up and its starring bestest boi koo! this took me longer than expected and the ending feels kind of rushed but i hope you guys like it! if this story ends up doing well, i might even post a mini jungkook pov :>

[simplyclockwork]

I love what you did with Sherlock stuck in the window frame. Sherlock trying to be arch and aloof still but a bit defeated and John caring and meeting Sherlock’s needs. I’d love to have a fic that is John shaving Sherlock (out of some sort of medical necessity) but it leads to intimacy or the promise of intimacy in the future. I know John shaving Sherlock has been done before, but I’m sure your take on it would add hugely to the greater good!

Hey anon! Thanks so much for your patience. I've finally filled this prompt. You can read it below the page break or on Ao3 here!

Please feel free to send future prompts anytime as long as you don't mind waiting a while for the fill.

Thank you :)

---

“Stop fidgeting,” John snapped as Sherlock wriggled for the umpteenth time under his ministrations.

Sherlock stopped with a huff. “I need to check on my experiment,” he protested, though he remained perfectly still. “You’re taking too long, John. You shave like a man who has never handled a blade before.”

“I may have handled a gun far more than a blade, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accidentally lop off your ear if you don’t sit bloody well still!” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed him more firmly into the kitchen chair. “Lord above, are there snakes in your pants?”

“Hurry up, John!” Sherlock snarled, squirming once more.

John, trying valiantly to keep Sherlock from slitting his own throat on the razor pressed against the vulnerable expanse of his skin, jerked the blade back. “Christ, Sherlock, stop moving! The sooner you shut up and sit still, the sooner this will be over with.” He shot a baleful glare at the cluttered surface of their kitchen table. “What kind of experiment are you doing with one working hand — non-dominant, might I add — anyway?”

“One surely beyond your simple mind,” Sherlock replied peevishly, making John roll his eyes.

“You and your miserable mood can both sod off,” John grumbled, biting back harsher words and making a concerted effort to soften his reprimand.

Sherlock had been absolutely horrid ever since he’d broken nearly every bone in his dominant hand in a brawl with a murder suspect. The man had slammed his foot down on Sherlock’s hand when Sherlock slipped on the rain-wet street during their tussle. Recovery had been a slow and painful process as the splinted hand turned alarming shades of black and blue while the bones and tendons healed. John couldn’t honestly blame Sherlock for his mood, but that didn’t make him easier to deal with. He struggled with even the most basic tasks, leaving John to support him in mundane functions. It had begun to wear on them both — Sherlock far more than John as he took repeated blows to his independence — bringing out Sherlock’s nastier side.

Which brought them to that morning, to John’s day off from the surgery. He'd been woken just shy of six am by a petulant Sherlock, who had insisted that his stubble had grown far too coarse to abide any longer. He’d stood — loomed, more like — over John as John blinked the sleep from his eyes and watched Sherlock scratch agitatedly at his stubbly jaw, chin and cheeks. Now, here they were, with John making a valiant effort to shave Sherlock’s face while Sherlock squirmed with the force of five hundred angry snakes.

“Do I really have to do this with a straight razor?” John asked for the fifth time, already knowing Sherlock’s answer before it was bit out through bared teeth.

“Disposable razors are a farce,” Sherlock said, muscles flexing under his damp skin as his jaw clenched. “I require a closer shave, which is only possible with a straight razor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John sighed, just as he had the four times before. “I know. Well, if you want me to do this, then you need to bloody well sit fucking still so I don’t cut your throat. Not even you would enjoy that murder.”

Sherlock muttered something that John missed.

“What?”

“I said, it would be manslaughter, not murder,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s only murder when it is premeditated.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, struggling not to lose the tenuous hold he still retained on his temper. “Who says it wouldn’t be premeditated?” John prayed for patience and opened his eyes again. “Stop clenching your teeth,” he ordered, smoothing his fingertips over Sherlock’s tense jaw. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and tensed more, making John sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just shave my face, John,” Sherlock muttered, some of the aggression mysteriously gone from his voice as he closed his eyes.

John shrugged and smoothed more shaving cream where his first application had dried. Sliding his fingers into Sherlock’s curls, John gently tilted his head back over the table and bent to set the razor against Sherlock’s skin. As he did, the sharp edge brushing Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock swallowed, making his throat bob beneath the blade. John paused warily, eyes fixed on the subtle motion. It seemed deeply vulnerable to him, inspiring an unexpected surge of protectiveness that caught him off guard.

He was still reeling with it when Sherlock cracked open one eye and squinted at him. “Something wrong?”

Did John imagine it, or did Sherlock’s voice sound strained? He studied the familiar face, searching for clues. But Sherlock had closed both eyes again, his expression perfectly blank.

“I haven’t got all day, John,” he reminded him sharply, though his voice lacked its earlier bite.

“Right,” John said, clearing his throat. He shook his head, banishing the strange feelings. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your incredibly important tinkering.”

“Experiment, John,” Sherlock corrected him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite his admonishment.

“Mhm.” John refocused, his feelings of confusion somewhat settled by the familiar cant of their banter. He hesitated over Sherlock’s throat and decided to start somewhere else. Setting the blade at the top of Sherlock’s cheek, John carefully drew the razor’s edge through the shaving cream. It was much fancier than his own brand, which came in a can and looked more like whipping cream than shaving material. Predictably, Sherlock’s came from a bar, complete with a rounded brush to spread the lather. It smelled like pine and explained some of what John had come to think of as Sherlock’s natural scent.

Reigning in his wandering thoughts, his brow furrowed, John wiped the blade clean and set it back to Sherlock’s skin. He cleared a strip next to the first, pausing only when his left hand gave a slight twitch. John cursed his intermittent tremour silently, retracing the same area to erase the few spots he’d missed. A stubborn fleck of dried lather remained in his path, and John reached out to smooth it away with his thumb. Sherlock’s cheek twitched at the touch. John paused, thumb resting on Sherlock’s skin, when he saw that Sherlock’s eyes were open. Half-open, to be exact, with dark silver peeking out beneath his long, lowered lashes.

Something about that gaze froze John in place, the moment stretching out until he broke free with a quiet, awkward cough. Ducking his head to clean the blade again, John bought himself time, fussing with the flannel until he looked up again and saw that Sherlock’s eyes were closed once more. A relieved sigh escaped him before he could bite it back, and John was glad to see Sherlock didn’t react or comment on the sound.

He returned to his task with far more care, gritting his teeth at even the idea of his hand twitching. The rest of the foam disappeared gradually beneath John’s determined hand, revealing more and more of Sherlock’s damp, freshly-shaven face. Sherlock sat mostly still throughout, finally settled, his expression oddly peaceful. If not for the occasional shifting of his legs — crossing and uncrossing at the thigh whenever John paused to wipe the blade clean — he might have been a statue.

“Aright,” John finally said once Sherlock’s face was clear. “Just your throat left. Make sure not to move.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Sherlock grumbled, frowning at John’s incredulous laugh. He didn’t bother to reply, and John hoped that meant he would do as bid.

Taking a deep, calming breath, John braced a hand on the chair back, trying to find the right angle. It was awkward, and he reconsidered. After a moment of hesitation, he shook off his anxiety and cupped Sherlock’s jaw at the hinge. Sherlock’s eyes flew open at the contact, clearly startled, his lips parting around a small gasp. To John’s immense relief, he held still otherwise.

John chose to ignore the odd reaction, gently tilting Sherlock’s head back and to the side as he maneuvered the blade up the side of Sherlock’s throat. John did so with great care, tongue caught between his teeth, scared of slipping. All the while, he could feel Sherlock’s gaze on him, a burning point of scrutiny that John struggled not to squirm beneath. Instead, he wiped the blade and tilted Sherlock’s head again, repeating the movement.

Sherlock was silent as the grave throughout. The only sounds in the kitchen were his loud breathing and the slick, rasping scrape of the blade as it scored stubble from skin. The moment held a strange intimacy, like the two of them existed in a bubble, removed from the world with only each other for contact.

John was starting to think he might be going mad before he slid his hand to the nape of Sherlock’s neck and cupped the base of his skull to tilt his head back. As he did so, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his throat jumped with an audible swallow. Startled, John’s grip tightened momentarily in the damp curls caught beneath his fingers, and Sherlock jolted with a quiet groan. The reaction was so visceral that John froze, staring down at Sherlock’s upturned face. His eyes were tightly shut, face screwed up in a grimace that looked strangely close to horrified.

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly, confused. Sherlock didn’t answer, just remained stiff and still. Under his hand, John thought he could feel a slight, constant tremour rippling through Sherlock. Brow furrowed, he studied Sherlock’s tightly wound body, gaze pausing on Sherlock’s legs, crossed together in a vice grip at the thigh. Was Sherlock…? No, that couldn’t be it. Surely John was misreading the situation. “Are you alright?” he prompted, and Sherlock sucked in a loud, shaky breath.

“I’m excellent, John,” he said in a strained voice, still with his eyes closed. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Just about,” John replied, trying and failing to shake off his growing suspicion. Clearly, Sherlock didn’t want to draw attention to whatever was happening to him. John could respect that. He’d had massages before. Some touches felt unexpectedly nice, and things happened with one’s body that one couldn’t always control. It was perfectly natural — though John had never thought of Sherlock as someone who felt ‘natural’ urges.

“Relax,” he said, waiting for Sherlock to stop clenching his jaw and facial muscles. It took a moment before everything slowly eased. However, Sherlock’s lower body remained steel-tense, and John could still feel those minute tremours beneath his hand. But Sherlock didn’t speak, keeping his eyes shut, so John didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he returned to the task at hand. Gently tugging at Sherlock’s curls to tilt his head back, John exposed the underside of Sherlock’s throat and jaw as he angled the blade at the edge of the lather. With the heel of his hand pressed against Sherlock’s skin to steady his grip, John felt the subtle twitch of muscle underneath as Sherlock swallowed again, his breath catching. Rather than let that strange, slight stutter catch him off guard again, John swiped the blade up, taking the last of the lather with it in one smooth, rasping stroke.

Then, following some instinct John couldn’t name, he set aside the blade and laid his hand over the freshly-shaved skin. Sherlock gasped at the contact, blood rushing into his face and darkening his pale cheeks. The touch was light, John’s fingers barely brushing the blade-reddened skin, but Sherlock’s response was like a man run through with an electric current, his body jolting from head to toe.

John held perfectly still, waiting to see what Sherlock might do, expecting him to pull away and rush off back to his experiment. But he did neither, sitting perfectly still — save for the tiny shivers twitching through his body — under John’s touch.

Emboldened by that silent faith, John swept his fingertips down the strip of skin he’d just shaved, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of his caress. Sherlock’s shiver increased, the colour infusing his face darkening to a deeper, tantalizing flush. John watched, enchanted, as Sherlock’s eyebrows drew together, then upward and back down as a myriad of complex expressions flitted across his face. He turned his hand, cupping the side of Sherlock’s neck, tracing the rough line of Sherlock’s bobbing throat with the pad of his thumb, just to see what would happen.

Sherlock’s lips parted around a sigh that sounded both startled and strained, the tension in his face first intensifying, then easing slowly, as John repeated the motion. He stroked Sherlock’s throat in slow, smooth passes, his work-roughened skin catching briefly on the damp terrain. Under his fingertips, pressed below Sherlock’s jaw, John felt the soft vibration of Sherlock’s whimper, voiced from deep within his throat.

“Never realized you were so sensitive,” John murmured, awed and hardly noticing the blurred lines of their friendship passing them both by. Sherlock seemed even less cognizant of the change, head tilted back as he pressed into John’s touch, offering and baring his throat in a shocking display of trust.

It was that which nearly undid John entirely. But what erased the last of his hesitation was Sherlock’s eyelids fluttering open to reveal his darkened gaze. His pupils were blown wide, almost erasing the silvery shade of his irises.

“John,” he croaked in a voice as jagged as broken glass. His head was tilted back far enough that it nearly rested on the table behind him, the science equipment scattered over the surface seemingly forgotten for the moment.

The sound of his name, spoken with such desperation, cleared the last of John’s confusion. He let go of the last remnants of his denial, of his enforced blindness of how Sherlock was reacting to him. Because he was reacting to John, that much was clear, and there was no mistaking the meaning of that reaction.

Without speaking or wasting time on words, John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands and bent down to brush their lips together. It was a bare ghost of contact, a tentative drifting of mouths, but Sherlock’s response was definite. He groaned and surged upward, his uninjured hand tangling in John’s hair and pulling him closer. Their noses bumped clumsily, Sherlock’s teeth scraping John’s bottom lip before their mouths slotted together in a fierce kiss. It was sloppy, turning even more so when Sherlock’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out.

John responded in kind, tasting Sherlock’s eager gasp as their tongues met. Sherlock panted against his mouth, the sound desperate and rushing in John’s ears. They kissed until their need for air grew too great, some uncounted seconds that broke as John turned his face to suck in a loud inhale, his lungs burning. Sherlock gasped in sympathy against his cheek before turning John’s face back to his to reclaim his mouth in another kiss. There was the sharp drag of teeth again, the sleek, hot press of tongue and lips, and Sherlock’s hand sliding out of John’s hair, down his nape to his broad shoulders. His splinted hand hovered, ineffective, just in front of John’s chest.

“Sherlock,” John murmured, forcing himself to think through the fog of arousal quickly obscuring his thoughts. “Sherlock, wait.”

They broke apart at once, Sherlock jerking his head back. His eyes were wide, pupils huge, his face twisting into an expression of watchful uncertainty. John — who realized he had, at some point, settled onto Sherlock’s spread thighs — blinked at that expression. Something very close to fear flickered in Sherlock’s blackened gaze, prompting a soft tsk from John.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, reaching out to smooth a tangled curl back from Sherlock’s forehead. “Everything is fine.”

Some of the tension in Sherlock’s rigid body — though not all — eased. “Is it?” he asked, his typically cultured voice turned rough. Less smooth velvet, more gravel. John thought he could get used to that change.

“Absolutely,” John murmured, offering a crooked smile. “Absolutely fine. But maybe we should, ah, slow down?”

Sherlock blinked up at him, hands settled on John’s waist, his forehead creased with a puzzled frown. “Why?”

John tilted his head and chuckled. “Well… I mean, we’ve only just had our first kiss. Are you sure you want to rush into things?”

A quiet scoff escaped Sherlock’s full lips. “We’ve lived together for several years, John. You’ve seen me naked a multitude of times—”

“Helping you shower and go to the loo when you’re injured isn’t really the same as an intimate relationship,” John interrupted, amused.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics. Unimportant.” He sobered, his eyes darkening as his pupils widened again. “The facts are simple: I’ve wanted you for a very long time, John Watson. Now that you’ve realized it, I see no need to place restrictions on our feelings.” His eyes narrowed, eyebrows dropping into another frown. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

“Not what I said,” John said with an indulgent smile. Trust Sherlock to approach something like feelings with utter rationality, even as the apparent sign of his arousal pressed against the backs of John’s thighs. “I just never knew until now that you felt this way. It’s… well, it’s a bit of a surprise.”

Another scoff from Sherlock. “It’s not my fault that you’re a rather oblivious person, John. Now,” he said, voice clipped and to the point, “are you going to kiss me again? Or must we continue to talk all this out when I’d much rather show you how I feel?”

John stared at him, taken aback by the bluntness, before he tilted his head back and let out a loud, shocked laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

A gleam entered Sherlock’s pale eyes, lighting his face with mischievous promise. “I most certainly do plan for there to be handfuls of something, John. Rest assured.” He squeezed John’s backside with his un-splinted hand in a demonstration, prompting a startled but pleased wiggle from John.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” John said with a grin, then bent his head to meet Sherlock’s upturned mouth.

[tomtenadia]

Remember us - part 4

Hello lovelies,

It’s Thursday evening and I have some angst coming your way :)

Please enjoy part 4 of Remember Us

CW: mention of depression and miscarriage

--------

Rowan had the week from hell. Rehab had been relentless and Dorian had taken him to the gym everyday, but at least now he could say that he was able to walk the length of the walking bars and back. In the last couple of days Dorian had pushed for him to start using crutches, insinuating to the fact that the doctor was thinking about discharging him.

On top of the pain from rehab he was still punishing himself for what had happened with Aelin. Every morning he woke up and the first thing he did was to look at his phone for a reply from her, but nothing ever came.

The doctors think they might discharge me in a few days. Dorian is making me a pro at using crutches.

Maybe a good news might cheer her up.

He tried to watch tv but lost interest very quickly so he went back to his phone. He had been reading the whole thread of messaged between him and Aelin and discovered some interesting tidbits. They bickered a lot but from the text messages it looked as if they would always make up in the end. He also found some texts that made him blush wildly. But what was always present was love. That he knew was real.

He was absorbed in the texts that he did not notice the woman who had entered his room.

She was blonde, the same golden shade that Aelin had.

“Hi Rowan,” she greeted him walking fully into the room “I brought you your favourite biscuits. Hospital food is atrocious.”

The stranger placed the box on the nightstand “orange oatmeal cookies.”

He looked at her puzzled.

“I am Evalin. I am Aelin’s mum and your mother in-law.”

Rowan straightened his back, wanting to make a good impression, realising a moment later that the woman knew him already.

She took a seat on the chair near his bed “how are you doing?”

He had good vibes from the woman and he was impressed just how much her daughter resembled her “Adjusting…discovering new things that are not actually new.”

Evalin patted his knee “are any memories coming back?”

“I had a couple. All related to moments with Aelin.” He paused, sighed and gathered the courage to ask about Aelin. He hadn’t her from Aelin in a week “How is she doing? I haven’t heard from her in a week.”

Evalin hesitated “she is not well. She had been off from work the whole week.”

Rowan worried. Without realising it he felt a pang of fear rise in him “is it the pregnancy?”

Evalin nodded “partly. She has been very stressed this last month which has been hard on her and the baby.”

He threw his head backwards and leaned into the pillow “and it doesn’t help that I pile on with my stupidity.”

“She told me what happened.” The woman said quietly and he had a feeling that all of a sudden she had lost all of her respect for him “It must be scary to be in your position right now.” she admitted “I can see that you were just trying to protect my daughter, because the heart is a treacherous thing and I don’t think Aelin would survive loosing you completely and again.” The woman’s eyes were on him now “As a mother who loves her daughter and her grandchildren deeply and accepted you like a son… all I am asking is to give it a try.” She took his hand in hers “I know I am asking a lot of you, but you two used to hate each other and look where you got in the end.”

“What if I am not anymore the man she loves? I am scared that something might have broken in me and I don’t want to hurt her or the kids.”

Evalin squeezed his hand “listen to your heart, what does it tell you?”

“Try.” He whispered and he knew it was true “if I tell you something will you promise you will not think of me as crazy?”

Evalin shook her head.

“When I saw her the first time, I could not recognise her, but my body somehow did. I felt a tug… as if something pulled me to her. I don’t know how to explain it. There was a sense of familiarity.” He explained, thinking he sounded like a complete lunatic, but Evalin smiled deeply at him.

“I think it was your soul recognising its other half.” And she chuckled “my husband used to tell me I was an hopeless romantic.”

“I dreamed our wedding day, the day both kids were born and some other moments with her have come back.”

“And how do they make you feel?”

“There is always love. I am sure Aelin and I had our bad days but the memories coming back so far are all happy.” He told the woman.

“Then treasure those feelings.”

They stood in silence for a moment then Rowan spoke again “can I ask you something?”

Evalin nodded.

“Aelin mentioned that before having Thomas and Freyja we had problems and lost as well. How bad was it?”

He wasn’t sure if he should talk about it but he wanted, needed to know. He needed to know more about his relationship with Aelin and Evalin seemed very keen to indulge him.

“You started trying after you got married. You were both obsessed about having a big family so you started straight away. But it took Aelin a year to get pregnant.” She told him and he could see the heartbreak in the woman “you lost the first baby in the first trimester. But the second one happened during her fifth month. She woke up one night bleeding heavily and you lost your baby girl. It destroyed you both.”

Evalin paused, giving him time to absorb the facts “Aelin was heartbroken and you were just the same. And your marriage suffered quite badly, but slowly you both found your way back together. Thomas arrived a year later.”

Rowan listened and he felt a stab of pain in his heart. How did they survive such pain?

“You both went through something more horrific, and I am positive you will survive this too. You have to.” The woman stood and placed her bag back on her shoulder “next time you see Aelin, talk to her. Tell her about your fears. Let her in Rowan, she is your wife.”

She was about to leave when she stopped and pulled something from her bag. It was a piece of paper “Thomas did this for you.”

Rowan took the paper and saw it was a messy drawing of his family. The four of them were all there “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Evalin smiled and left the room, leaving Rowan on his own.

He thought about his options and realised that he had none. They were his family and in that moment they were all he knew. He had no idea if he had any friends close enough who would take him in. And who would do that anyway? He was a burden. But Aelin had offered him a home. A family. And eventually love. Maybe Evalin was right, maybe with time and patience he could learn to love her again. He just hoped he was not too late.

*

Aelin woke up from her afternoon nap and found her mother playing with Thomas. Freyja was napping as well on the sofa, her soft toy close to her chest, her blanket wrapped around her and a pacifier in her mouth. She looked serene.

Thomas was building something with lego. His father was obsessed with the colourful bricks and he had bought huge quantities and they would sit and build for hours.

“What are you building, Tom?”

“Our house.”

She ruffled his blonde hair and went to sit opposite her mother.

“How are you doing?”

Aelin sighed “the nausea stopped, but I still feel exhausted.”

“You should go back to bed.”

Aelin shook her head “If I keep sleeping I will not be able to do so tonight.”

Evalin took a sip of her tea “I went to see Rowan this morning.”

Aelin froze. She had retyped and deleted the reply to him countless times now. She had wanted to tell him she was scared too. Tell him that she knew it was hard for him and that she was ready to stay at his side and help him. They would find their way back. They always did even during the darkest moments of their marriage when she pushed him away because she thought the pain was only hers, Rowan had fought to be back at her side. Together they rose from the abysm and their bond grew even stronger.

“How is he doing?”

“Your husband needs you at his side. He is lost, and confused.”

“He told me to move on. He told he might not want to be my husband anymore.” She snapped, her heart aching.

“Have you considered that he might have said that to protect you? He is afraid you will not love the man that will come out of this ordeal. He thinks that by leaving him he will protect this family.”

Aelin sobbed, her face in her hands “I miss him so much.” Her sobs grew in intensity.

Thomas noticed his mother cry and walked to her and gave Aelin a hug “don’t cry, mum.”

“I am fine, Tom. Go back playing with lego.” She kissed his blonde hair and sent him back on the carpet.

“I know you are the doctor,” started Evalin caressing her sleeping granddaughter’s silver hair “but I did some reading and it seems like sensorial stimulation might help trigger the memories.”

Aelin nodded “He has his phone back with all the photos and the texts.” She took a deep breath “he texted me saying that the doctor might discharge him in a few days and I don’t know what to do.”

Evalin gave her a dashing smile “you are taking your husband back to this home where he belongs.”

Aelin felt fear at the idea “have you thought how the kids will feel at seeing their dad that way? I can’t put them through that.”

Her mother placed a hand on her knee in comfort “have you thought about the fact that being surrounded by a familiar environment might be best way to help him?”

She had not. All she had been thinking since that text had been her children. She wanted him back. There was no doubt about it. But she had to protect them. She was an adult and could endure the pain. They could not. They had no idea what was happening.

“You could explain to Thomas what happened and ask him to help you to get his dad back.”

Her boy, her wonderful boy, she could not do that to him. Her hands shook in fear.

“Aelin, he needs his family. All of us.”

She stood abruptly “he should go and stay with friends. Lorcan perhaps.”

Evalin stood as well and joined her “He and Elide have a baby who is only a few months old, they will not take him in. And they cannot help. He needs us. He needs all of this.” Her arms extended to indicate the house around them.

“He might not want this.” Aelin snarled “he made it quite clear.”

Evalin loved her daughter but she had inherited her father’s stubbornness. But if Aelin was stubborn, she was on another level “Aelin, you are going back to work tomorrow. You march in your husband’s room and tell him that he is coming home. Where he belongs. And don’t fight me on this.”

Aelin knew her mother had her best interest at heart. She was the one who had dragged her out of the abysm she had thrown herself into after they lost their daughter. After she had pushed Rowan away, Evalin had been at her side. Helping through the pain of the loss, fighting her depression with her. Slowly she had made her realise that Rowan was hurting too. That the pain was his as well and that he could be the one pulling her out completely. In the end they had helped each other.

To whatever end.

It was their pact, their promise.

An oath that went deeper than a I love you.

It was a thread that bound their souls together.

To whatever end.

[wri0thesley]

*bursts through the door* Hello Nat, I am here to request some chubby/fat reader smut with Diavolo. Perhaps a more possessive and less reclusive Diavolo who spots reader and has to have them?? Headcanons or a scenario are fine, of course. Thanks!

[opening hours] - diavolo x chubby!reader (4k)

The rules for one special customer at your bakery get you into a situation that you’re not all that mad about, actually.

[NSFW, minors do not interact. Diavolo x Reader. AFAB reader, explicitly fat/chubby. No pronouns used, but Diavolo refers to reader with feminine pet names. Possessive/jealous sex. Power imbalance (he IS the Don of Passione). Brief references to reader’s lack of self-confidence/body-shaming in their past.]

The trouble had started with the bakery's unnofficial opening hours.

You had been told when you started working here that you opened ten minutes earlier than you were supposed to, but only for one specific customer. When you had expressed frustration at not knowing who this customer was and how to identify them, the owner and her son had looked at one another and then back at you.

"You'll know if you meet him," she'd said, eventually - and that was all.

Oh, you're paid for those extra ten minutes, of course - you're paid very well, honestly, for a job that you like working and that pays in all of the leftover sweet treats you'd like at the end of the day. The owner - Francesca - is polite and careful and clucks about you like a mother hen, which is nice considering how far away you feel from home. But after six months of working at the bakery and not coming across this mysterious customer once, you resign yourself to the fate that you're never going to see him.

Things, though, can change in an instant. Tiny little occurrences that feel like nothing at the time can shape your life more than you ever realise. For you, that occurrence had been the morning that the pink-haired man in a crisply pressed suit had walked into the bakery at seven fifty two in the moring and stood by the counter.

At first, he had not spoken. He had simply looked at you, bright green stare coloured with something that made your skin feel hot and prickly. He had rested his fingertips on the counter, tapping black lacquered nails against the glass.

You are used to being looked at. You have been looked at your whole life; generally not favourably. Hell, you have even been looked at behind the counter before, as people snickered behind their hands to their companions that 'no wonder this place sells out of the good stuff so fast, with someone like that working here--'. Your cheeks heat up under the man's intense stare, wondering if he's about to say something to you--

And then, he does say something.

"You're new."

His voice is low and smooth, like fine wine being poured in the dark, and against your will your heart begins to beat a little quicker. You nod. His painted lips curve in a smile that's all danger and elegance.

(It's normal, you tell yourself, to be very aware when someone near you is handsome. It's normal to have your breath taken away, to find yourself shaking a little, to feel warm and strange - and it's even more normal, you think, when you consider that something about this man makes him special.)

"You won't know my usual, then." He says, and you shake your head wordlessly, offering him an apologetic look that seems to amuse him just as much as your newness.

He directs you (cappuccino, cornetto) to his regular, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. It's strange, to be so watched - most customers can't wait to get out of the bakery with their gains tucked neatly under their arms. Very few of them look at you beyond a cursory bark of their order and a nod as they leave. This man, though . . . his eyes do not leave you for a moment.

You bag up the cornetto in one of the pale paper bags and are about to punch the numbers into your cash register, when the man leans over the counter and grabs ahold of your wrist, his grip strong and firm.

Your breath catches at the power with which he restrains you. His suit sleeve rolls up to reveal an intricate tattoo of black inked designs that starts at his wrist and (from what you can see) continues further and further up.

"That won't be necessary, carina." He says, his voice smooth. Your own voice wobbles a little as you reply;

"B-but--"

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by whatever it is you're doing. You don't think it's that amusing that you're attempting to get him to pay for what he's bought, but alright then.

"You're cute," he tells you, without flinching. Those lips remain turned up at the corners in a smirk that makes you feel as though you don't know what the hell you're doing. The compliment wraps around you, heated and nervous - men, in your experience, do not often say such things to people who look like you - and certainly not so quickly after meeting you. "Ask Francesca why I don't pay, if you must. Have a good day - I'll see you tomorrow."

You don't realise you've been holding your breath until the door has closed behind him.

You also don't realise how much the promise of seeing him again sounds like a threat.

--------

You find out, incidentally, why he doesn't pay - and the information makes your cheeks flame at how brazen you must have seemed, trying to insist he was going to pay. You tell Francesca exactly what happened and her face creases in concern. At first, you think she's going to tell you off - you wouldn't blame her for firing you, after finding out that you disrespected the Don of Passione like that.

It turns out what she's worried about is the staffing. You are not scheduled to do a morning shift tomorrow. She expresses fear, too, that he spoke to you and smiled at you and stared at you so intently.

"Normally he doesn't look at any of us," she frets. "That's not the kind of man you want the attention of, you know?"

You laugh off her concerns.

"It's probably nothing like that anyway," you tell her. "He was just amused I didn't realise who he was, I guess."

Her worried face does not ease.

--------

(He's not pleased to not see you behind the counter the next morning, Francesca relates to you. He asks after you. He asks your name. He asks when you're next working. And though you know that it's dangerous territory, you cannot help but be flattered).

Diavolo - that's his name, one he gives you over a shared cornetto the fifth time he comes in for his regular order, and it's a name you're told not to repeat to anyone with a gaze so intense that you feel like a butterfly pinned to glass. 

Diavolo looks at you hungrily, like he wants to devour you whole. As if you are an item on the menu that he can purchase at his leisure, and he is merely waiting for the right moment.

You're light-headed and flattered and warm around him, a pulsating edge of danger beating below the surface that you ignore for the sake of enjoying someone being interested in you. Sometimes, the fear grips you as it has so many times before that he's flirting with you as a joke, or you're reading too much into things - and then, he leans across the counter to wipe cream from the corner of your mouth with a thumb or leans in so close to you that you can see the slightest sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and your breath catches and all of your thoughts go entirely out of the window.

He drops compliments easily to you. He mentions the colour of your eyes, the fullness of your mouth, the way your hair falls - once, he mentions how you fill out the button-up shirt you're wearing with the top three buttons undone with approval clear in his voice and gaze and you go all over hot and nervous and unsure, something that seems to amuse and please him no end.

(It’s hot, in Naples. You were not intending to gather his interest. Still, the next morning you have four buttons undone.)

You think that it's harmess flirting. After all - Diavolo is the Don of Passione. You're nothing compared to him; he is a shrine. A statue in a beautiful garden, with worshipers at his feet. You are a fat bumblebee buzzing past the statue - sated, and comfortable, but inconsequential. You assume you're an amusement to him - just a little distraction in a morning, that's all.

You don't realise how wrong you are until you're on a closing shift one evening with Francesca's son. His name is Stefano, and he's perfectly nice to you, if a touch over-eager - desperate to please. He's a little younger than you, with an earnest face and a rushed way of speaking that means you sometimes have to ask him to calm down. Francesca hints, occasionally, that he has a crush on you - and you laugh it off, as you so often do when anyone expresses any kind of interest in you.

Only, tonight he is more nervous than usual. He messes up people's orders. He spills coffee and espresso and cappuccino left right and centre - his hands shake and he fumbles over the names of regular customers who he's known half of his life.

While you're closing up, you ask him, carefully and delicately, if something is wrong. You don't know what you're expecting, as you and he walk to the front door of the bakery together - but Stefano pauses, and touches your arm.

"I've just been balling up my courage, I guess," he says, twisting his lip to one side.

"For what?" You ask, trying to sound interested though one of your hands is digging deep in your coat pocket to try and find your keys. You swear that you left them there this morning. Your hand moves to your bag. Stefano takes a deep breath.

All at once, his words come out in a jumbled rush.

"To-ask-you-on-a-date."

You blink at him.

"Um," you say, succintly. "To ask . . . me?"

He nods emphatically, moving closer to you. He's about the same height as you, so your noses come too close for comfort - the hand in your bag stays there, limply, as you try and process what he's saying.

"You don't have to answer right now," he says, his voice still pitching erratically. "But yeah, I think you're pretty and nice and I'd just-- I'd really like to take you on a date or something, i-if you think you'd like that? You don't have to! You don't have to answer right now, I just--"

He's babbling, and you're trying to keep the thread of the conversation, your mind working in overdrive - and then he moves his head forward and kisses you. It's a nervous little peck that lasts only a moment, before he steps back with his cheeks flushed red and pulls his coat closer to him.

"Okay, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow--" He says, and then he's stepping out of the door and letting it click shut behind him without even waiting to see how you respond to the kiss.

You're not sure of how to respond, honestly. You stand there, the breath knocked out of you, for a few moments. His lips had been dry and quick on your own, and you hadn't felt . . . to be honest, you hadn't felt anything.

No point dwelling on it. Your fingers scramble around the bottom of your bag for your keys, as you try and ignore that your heart isn't thumping the way that it does when Diavolo is near you. Stefano is a nice boy. He's your boss' son. He isn't, as far as you're aware, engaged in any shady business like you know Diavolo must be--

For God's sake. Your keys are not there. You resign yourself to making your way back to your apartment and trying to beg someone else in the building to let you in so that you can get the key you leave under the plant pot by your front door just in case of things like this as you step outside of the door, locking up the bakery behind you (thank God that key has remained where you thought it was)--

Only to step straight into the warm, solid chest of a man.

Fear seeps through all of your bones as you nervously look up to see what kind of person you have angered. You are already dredging up a thousand apologies when your eyes meet Diavolo's keen, green ones.

He doesn't look how he usually does when he sees you. Ordinarily, he's amused and elegant and pleased in a quiet, self-assured sort of way. Tonight, though . . . tonight, Diavolo's eyes burn hot and bright and angry. There's a ferocity in his face and the set of his mouth that makes you feel like he's captured your ability to breathe in a bottle only he has access to.

He speaks.

"Who does that boy think he is?" He asks you, voice low and cool like black velvet - and then, he leans down and kisses you hungrily, and this time you feel a hundred things.

------

You go with him, heady and intoxicated by the way his mouth had felt upon yours and the way his hand had gone around your waist, squeezing the generous curve of your hip as if he wanted to grip you by them and pin you against a wall right there and then, in the centre of the city. You think, judging by the way he had looked at you when the kiss had broken, he would have - if he had not had an image of mystery to maintain.

Instead, he says (his normally velvet voice hoarse);

"Come home with me."

It is not a question. It's a demand - and luckily for him, you are in no mood to decline. You sit beside him in the back of a car (a screen between you two and the driver), and Diavolo's hands are all over you even there.

"I can barely wait," he murmurs, hungrily, into the curve of your shoulder and neck as he lathes kisses over your throat, marking you with his dark lipstick. "Oh, bella, if you even knew how much I've wanted you--"

It's hard not to be dazzled by the knowledge that he wants you. A man like Diavolo - in his sharp suits and ties, surrounded by servile underlings, rings on his fingers that cost more than you make in a year - wants someone like you. It's hard not to be carried away by how hungrily he mouths at you and how beautiful you feel under that piercing green gaze, when you have not often felt beautiful in your life. Your body in the past has been a source of shame and sadness - under Diavolo's grazing palms and questing fingertips, though, you feel transformed.

You tumble out of the car and are pulled along with impatient hands by Diavolo, not letting you take any moments to enjoy how beautiful his home is. Sure, the pillars are marble and flowers drape from the windows in hues of crimson and purple, but there is a different purpose for the two of you now - you are barely aware of anything around you as you're tugged into the first bedroom Diavolo finds.

You're breathless again as you're tossed on the bed underneath him. Things are moving so quickly - but you have no complaints, as Diavolo immediately has you pinned beneath him, his muscular weight self-assured as he leans over your prone form to beg from you another hungry kiss. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, demanding entrance instead of asking; and you yield to him. His hands grasp your hips, holding you with fervent frustrations bubbling under the surface.

He breaks the kiss to say, every syllable of his words dripping with jealousy.

"You're mine. You know that, don't you?"

You hadn't known it before tonight - but with the way his hands are already going to your uniform, pulling open the buttons with little care (you hear one of them skitter onto the floor), it's no longer a question.

"I didn't," you breathe, and he snorts. His fingertips are cool as he slides them up the curved softness of your stomach, pausing just beneath your breast.

"You will," he vows. "After tonight, carina, you'll realise there's nobody else in the entire world for you but me."

Your body shivers under the promise of his words. You shiver harder as he slides your work shirt off of your shoulders, tugging it away, dropping it on the floor along with the button that you assume you will never see again. As his hands slide into the small of your back, cool where you are boiling warm - and you hear the snap of your bra being undone and suddenly you are bare before him in the room.

He looks down on you in satisfaction.

"There," he coos, his hands covering your breasts (they are not quite large enough to cover the round flesh, but they fill out his grip in a way that seems to please him). "You look much better without the ugly uniform. Something so lovely deserves beautiful things only to adorn them--"

A gasp is bitten back as his thumbs rub your nipples, coaxing the nubs to hardened points. You press your thighs together beneath him, your cheeks heating up at how your body responds to him in gooseflesh and slick.

"You should never have to wear clothes," Diavolo muses, as he gathers himself onto his knees and your work pants are the next to go. "It's a waste, to not have your body where I can see it."

Diavolo lavishes hungry, possessive attention on all of the parts of you that you have never gotten along with. He does it with his hands, massaging and petting and gripping - and then, he leans down and he uses his mouth and you're squirming beneath him, the heat gathering with the wetness between your thighs almost unbearable.

The curves of your hips are mapped out - the soft flesh of your thighs. The pillows of your upper arms, the roundness of your stomach, all of the places you have thought of as fleshy and unattractive seem like a siren's call to Diavolo. He kisses you, leaving marks of his lipstick everywhere - and occasionally, he pulls back and whispers things against your skin that have you hot and needy.

"Mine," he murmurs, as he sucks a blue-purple lovebite into your collarbone.

"Il mio tesoro," he whispers, as he kisses you on the mouth hard and his hands go to strip off his own suit jacket.

"You belong to me," he says, and suddenly he is shirtless and you are staring at the sculpted muscle of his chest and the intricate tattoos on his arms. You have no complaints - you look up at him above you, a big cat playing with his prey, and all you can do is swallow and nod.

"Good," he breathes, "you're going to be so good for me, hmm?" His hands alight on your thighs and you spread them without him asking, displaying the damp patch on your silken underwear and making his eyes darken and his nostrils flare. "For me, amore?"

You avert your gaze and do not answer - but that's enough of an assent for Diavolo. He laughs as his fingers curl into the garment, tugging them down your thighs (you shiver at the sensation of slick fabric clinging, just for a moment, against your sodden folds).

"I'm a lucky man," he says to you. "I've always been lucky, you know . . . but you may very well be my luckiest find."

Your thighs are urged further apart, until Diavolo can settle between them, his weight heavy and self-assured. What is between your thighs, too, is subject to Diavolo's piercing gaze - but he is not critical. He is merely . . . hungry. Intoxicated. You know that, arguably, Diavolo has all of the power here - and yet you cannot help but feel as though it is you who is really in control.

One of his fingers slides over your sex, gathering your slick on his fingers, winning the chase of your hips as he slides from clit to perineum and back again. You pant aloud, a soft whimpering noise falling from your lips against your will.

"Look at you," he murmurs, enthralled. "Look how you respond, all for me--"

Your fingers clench in the sheets beneath you as Diavolo presses one finger inside you, slowly, letting you adjust to the feel of him inside. You know that he is longing to fuck you with them vigorously - you can see it from the set of his shoulders and his mouth. He is practically buzzing with unrestrained tension. But he keeps his calm, pumping the lone finger in and out of you (you are wet enough that the sound echoes around the room, mixing with your laboured breathing). Occasionally, he buries his finger inside you almost to the hilt and you gasp at the cool sensation of one of his rings pressing against your entrance. He looks amused, his lips curved into a smirk - but he remains solid. He does nothing, in fact, until your hips buck up and you whimper;

"I can take another one, please--"

"Good," Diavolo purrs, his voice persuasive. "Of course you can, cara. Yes. You'll take all of me, won't you?" A second finger joins the first, scissoring you open with slow movements. "You're going to be so good for me. You're going to forget about any other person in the world when you're speared on my cock--"

Your body heats up in embarrassment and pleasure all over. The way his fingers rub inside your channel makes you squirm, your hips wriggling underneath him, your lungs barely able to contain your breath. A tight, hot ball of tension is making itself known low in your stomach, familiar and yet unfamiliar all at once.

His thumb brushes over your clit and your body jolts. Diavolo chuckles under his breath and pulls out his fingers, accompanied by a wet gush of your arousal that seems incredibly loud to your ears. You watch as Diavolo brings his fingers to his mouth and his tongue darts out to taste you.

Your lower body gives a throb as he drinks in your slick like fine wine, as he utters forth a low groan of pleasure. He looks at you with dark-lidded eyes.

"Amore," he murmurs, all soft, quiet words with a steel edge. He shifts, and something hot and silky and damp brushes across your thigh that you realise is his cock. That same body part is positioned with his thumb and forefinger, at the tight entrance to your sex. "Just relax . . . I'll have finished making you mine soon enough--"

His hips move. You're pushed open, his cock deep and thick - your hands come to cling to his shoulders instead of the bedsheets, your voice coming out in a broken little wail.

It is not that it hurts. Diavolo has prepared you, and you are slick and needy enough that there's only the briefest stretch of discomfort - but it is more that Diavolo's cock inside you feels so right. You feel so full and possessed and owned, and you never thought you would need and adore it as much as you do.

You feel like nothing more than a piece of Diavolo's property, a treasured jewel that he wants to lock away and keep for himself forever - and you love it. Your legs lock about his hips without him even urging you to, determined to have him sink inside you as deep as he can go - and Diavolo groans chest-deep at the feel of it.

His hips move, sliding his cock deep and then shallow, enjoying the feel of you tightly engulfing him.

"You're perfect," he growls, lowly. "Tight, hot, wet -- and most importantly, cara . . . you’re mine.” He sighs, pressing himself impossibly deeper inside you so that your toes curl. A pleased rumble in the back of his throat. “You feel so good." He pauses, before he says, demanding; "Tell me how I feel."

"B-big," you hiccup out in between breathless moans and soft, needy pants. "L-like you're filling me up--"

"Tell me, little coniglio . . . do you like being filled up by me? Belonging to me? Having me . . ." His fingers skitter over your breasts, leaving hot trails of fire behind him. The heat low inside you is just burning hotter and hotter, your head swimming with all of the new sensations. "Lay my claim on you?"

You nod. You're babbling, your hips stuttering against his. Everything feels far away from you, now - earlier on that night feels like a fever dream. You can't remember how it felt to be anywhere but beneath Diavolo with his cock drilling deep inside you, making you feel needed and claimed and unmistakably his--

"Yes," you cry out, as his other hand moved lower, brushing your stomach, your mound - parting the lips of your sex so his fingers can rub firm circles on your clit.

There's that heat again, threefold - tumbling over and over itself until you feel fireworks set off behind your eyes and Diavolo's cock pumps harder inside you, your channel squeezing and constricting around him inside you. You're so busy coming, in fact, that you almost don't hear him murmur;

"Good. Because it's something you're going to have to get used to now you're mine."

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader

So, back in the day I wrote this story on Quotev. And it was one of my first stories that got into the popular section and I am really proud of it. The only problem is.... It was written in 2013, uber cringe-ville. If you wanna try to find it, be my guest but be warned: the main character is an OC, she has “I’m NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS” syndrome and there are some weird ass love lines added in. So, I am reviving and rebranding that story so it may live a better life, like witness protection. Anyway, hope you enjoy

* I wrote it in first person just because I thought it would be easier to read

(Y/N)’s family is killed in a fire that seems to plague Beacon Hills, moving in with the Stilinski’s was bound to cause hijinks, but what happens when she gets involved with the the illusive Derek Hale?

TW: Kidnapping, some violence

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first glance Beacon Hills seems like the perfect community. It wasn’t until later that I would realize that everything I ever knew was a lie. 

~

I slowly slipped out of the front door and locked it behind me. Sneaking out wasn’t my usual schtick, but it was the last day of summer and for the first time I was going to live a little before starting to work at the Highschool as a volunteer coach for the lacrosse team. It was my first time ever sneaking out and just the idea of it made my heart pound, but the anxiety turned to adrenaline as I made my way out without either of my parents noticing. They were both incredibly heavy sleepers, there could be a parade outside their door and they wouldn’t wake up. 

The party would mostly consist of most of the men’s and women’s lacrosse teams, and what would a lacrosse party be like without the team captain?

Walking down the sidewalk, I thought more about college. UCLA was a choice, or a community college too. Most kids would have gone straight after graduation, but I decided a year off would be good for me to de-stress. But honestly, I was just more afraid of the change. That and leaving my best friend, Stiles, behind was a little hard to fathom. We had known each other our whole lives. Another thing was…would he be okay? After losing his mom… who knows. But then there was also Michael. Michael was my boyfriend, and I loved being with him for the last four years. He really hadn’t mentioned plans for college, just working in the family business. What the family business was, I never knew. 

About a block down the road is when I heard the howl. My instincts first go to fear, wolf in the darkness. But then logic comes in, there had not been wolves in California for decades. It was probably the neighbors husky. 

The autumn chill had no mercy, whipping my hair into my eyes, I stopped on the corner of Fifth and Main, pulling my jacket closer and waited for the wind to pass. When it did, the figure in front of me made me gasp. But the shock subsided soon after. 

“Mikey,” I sighed in relief, “Why’d ya sneak up on me like that? Almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.” He smiled. Ominous certainly, but this was probably just another one of his pranks. 

“I guess so, I thought you said you weren’t going to the party.” 

“We’re not.” That’s when a chill ran up my spine. Something wasn’t right, he wasn’t acting like himself. His goofy smile was gone and replaced by a dark looming presence that I wasn’t comfortable with. It was like he was a completely different person. I took a slow step back. 

“Come on, this isn’t funny.” He said nothing, only matching my step going forward. 

“Michael.” With every step I took back, he took one forward, matching my increasing pace. With no other choice in mind, I chose to run. But as my back was turned, he grabbed me by my middle with one arm and pressed a cloth to my mouth with the other. Without thinking, I breathed in, the chemicals in the cloth slowly numbing my senses and my body. I tried to fight the darkness entering my vision, but it was no use. I was done to my knees, Michael right behind me. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Were the last words I heard before the darkness took over. 

~

“Sweetie, time to get up.” My mother’s voice rang in my ears. 

“C’mon mom five more minutes…” I grumbled. 

“(Y/N), you need to wake up.” Her voice is more urgent. I finally opened my eyes, seeing my mother, her body engulfed in flames. 

“Wake up!” 

My body jerked as I woke up, leading to soreness in my arms and legs as a few things became clear: 

1. I was tied to a chair, and 

2. I didn’t know where I was. 

The events from last night slowly started coming back and nothing made any sense. Michael had never been controlling or abusive. Was I so blinded by the relationship that I hadn’t seen the signs? No, there were no signs. As far as I knew, Michael had no history of mental illness so something like dissociative identity disorder didn’t make sense and it wouldn’t explain the behavior either. 

There was a bandana tied around my head, keeping me from any sort of speech. From the layout of the place, it looked like an apartment Michael had, but everything was different. There was a tack board hanging in the living room with so many pictures of myself and my parents, shots that looked like they were taken without us knowing. There were scrawlings but they were too scribble-like to make out. 

The door opening brought my head to look towards the source. Michael walked in, shoving his phone into his back pocket. 

“Well good afternoon, sleepy head.” He closed the door behind him and made his way over to the chair I was bound to. 

“Alright, I’m gonna take the gag out but you can’t scream.” He smiled. 

I nodded along. With one hand, he pulled the gag from my mouth. 

“HELP! HELP ME!” I cried, hoping one of his neighbors would hear and call the police. 

“Shut up!” He slapped me across the face, the stinging pain only added to my screaming for help. 

“I said shut up!” He pulled a knife from his pocket, pressing the tip of the blade against my cheek. This new threat silences me, leaving me breathing heavily through my nose, tears making their way down my cheeks. 

“See, was that so hard?” He stood up and made his way across the room to the box TV on his floor, “I’m sorry for the mess, but with all my planning I hadn’t had a chance. I’ve been planning a big surprise and it’s finally done.” I didn’t speak, only continued to watch his movements. 

“I figure, even if you didn’t listen, you can still have your surprise.” He pressed the round power button on the screen and it fizzled to life. 

“-the same arsonist on the loose? Coming back to breaking news, the second house fire in six years occurred in the early morning today. Firefighters were called out to the residence of (Y/D/N) and (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) where their home had gone up in flames.” There was footage of my home up in flames, streams of water coming from the firemen below. “ Both (Y/D/N) and (Y/M/N) were found dead, seemingly from being crushed by a falling support beam in their basement. Their daughter, (Y/N), has not been found and is considered missing. If you have any information on her please call Beacon Hills police.” My photo came up on the screen. 

My heart sunk into my stomach and my throat ached to scream and sob. Michael turned off the TV then and looked down at me. 

“I’m surprised they found the bodies with how hot it was.” He said nonchalantly.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered. My parents were the nicest people in the world and treated Michael like he was a part of the family, why would he do this?  

”Don’t worry, (Y/N/N). It’s all a part of the plan.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“I’m gonna head to bed, been out all night. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He made his way to her bedroom and closed the door behind him. 

Finally, I completely broke down. Silent cries poured out. My parents were just gone in a puff of smoke. And all at the hands of someone we trusted. Someone that I trusted more than anything. 

After the grief quickly came anger. I don’t know how or when, but I am getting the hell out of here.

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Read part 2 here!

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Message me comment to to added to the General Tag or the tag list for this series!

[cafeacademia]

Guardian | Chapter One

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: As you navigate your fifth year at Hogwarts, you reflect on the things that have led you this far and you begin to wonder if your complicated friendship with Draco holds more meaning than you originally anticipated.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some friendly teasing, mentions of Umbridge’s punishments, description of harm to a student, comfort, fluff.

Word count: Approx 4000 (oopsies)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, here’s the first full part of the series! Please check out the Prologue if you’re new to the series, it gives some general setting up for the story and explains how this soulmate AU works. Enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

Previous Part | Next part

(Gif is my own)

Sitting in the library, Neville was not far from the desk you were sat at as he scoured the shelves for a copy of a book about rare magical properties in plants while you were trying to work on your final Potions essay for the term. “This feels impossible.” You yawned, slouching over your four parchment rolls of completed essay. All you really had to do now was make a conclusion, but your brain was wandering after a few hours of working on your homework and it just wasn’t happening. “That’s incredible.” Neville whispered to himself and you couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, looking over your shoulder to see that he was fully engrossed in the book he had pulled off the shelf.

Putting your quill down, you looked down at your hand, eyes trailing over the little bandage wrap you wore over the mark left from the detention you had served the previous evening with Umbridge. It was still sore and it felt very tender, but you tried your best to keep it hidden under the bandage and the sleeve of your school jumper. Slowly, your mind wandered towards what Draco might be up to. You hadn’t spoken to him in months since you had started in your fifth year and you’d had less of desire to do so now that he was in the Inquisitorial Squad. And your thoughts paced back to your fourth year when you had started to share a bit of a friendship with him.

***

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy, you are.” Ron scoffed. “I am not.” You frowned at him. “Oi, shove off would you? I know you don’t like the little git, but he seems to like our girl, isn’t that right George?” Fred asked, looking over your head to his twin who was standing on the other side of you. “That’s right Fred, maybe he’s got a crush on you.” He chuckled, nudging you in the side. “Ah, young love.” Fred sighed, garnering a multitude of reactions between Ron sounding utterly disgusted to Ginny’s amused laughter. “Draco is just being friendly.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh Draco is it now? Not Malfoy anymore eh?” Fred teased.

“He’s such a git, Malfoy’s not worth your time anyway, he’s probably just using you or something.” Ron argued and for once, Hermione gave Ron an agreeing nod. “Besides, since when is Malfoy nice to anyone?” Hermione asked, Fred and George giving each other a look, they were a little more accepting than the others, but with the question raised even the twins wondered if there wasn’t another motivation there.

Sighing, you leaned back against the wall of the quad and glanced over at Neville, who had just been quietly listening to the conversation without saying a word, but the look on his face told you that he felt the same as the rest of your friends. The problem was, while you really, truly valued their opinion and you understood that they were trying to look out for you, albeit with a little tough love on Ron’s end, you knew there was something there between you and Draco but you just couldn’t seem to find the words to describe it.

Was it friendship? Was it some kind of connection deeper than that? Whatever it was, Draco seemed to become a different person around you. He was more genuine, more open, more himself and oddly, you were starting to feel like he really valued your attention and your opinion.

“You shouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction.” Ron went on, Harry now wandering over to join the group and you heaved out a sigh because you knew as soon as he joined in, the two of them would be going on about how much of ‘bloody git’ Draco was. “Give who the satisfaction?” Harry asked. “Malfoy.” Ron replied in a disgruntled tone. “Fine,” You gritted out. “Then I won’t give either of you the satisfaction, Ronald.” You suddenly burst out, everyone looking at you as if you had grown a second head from your sudden outburst. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He asked, a little bewildered.

But as the days passed, your friends started to realise what you had meant by that statement. Your little chats with Draco seemed to have halted entirely, and you didn’t speak a word about your budding friendship with the Slytherin. It was as if you had completely forgotten it had ever happened and your friends were starting to wonder if you were sneaking off to talk to him without any prying eyes, but of course there was no way they could prove it.

You valued their concern, you appreciated it in fact, but stupid or not you couldn’t deny that you felt a pull towards Draco. So you removed all indication that there was any interaction with Draco at all and it became quickly apparent to you, that maybe it was safer to just have a friendship with Draco in secret, especially as you weren’t too fond of the attention that being around the Slytherin Prince brought you.

You couldn’t deny, the secret meetings with Draco felt a little wrong, purely because you knew you’d get an absolute earful from Ron if he ever found out. But you still loved spending time with Draco, because out of everyone you had ever spent time with, Draco seemed to really value your company, be it quiet or more talkative. He seemed to understand when there were days that you just didn’t want to say a lot or you were more shy than usual and he understood that it was okay to enjoy silent company, but he also enjoyed it when you had energetic days and you wanted to chat about whatever came to mind.

***

“Are you listening?” Neville asked, leaning over your chair. “Hm?” You suddenly looked up at him, a little bit startled from being pulled away from your thoughts. “If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Neville warned and you pulled a face of worry before you hurried to pack away your things.

“Thank Merlin.” Neville mumbled as you both practically ran up the stairs to your classroom, seeing that there was a line of students waiting outside of the room, telling you that either you were just on time or Umbridge was late, though you thought the latter to be unlikely when she liked to go on about punctuality so often.

As you joined the line, Draco Malfoy made his way up the stairs, stopping when he reached you and pushed his way into the queue, though he was careful not to push you. And while Neville was busy catching up with Susan Bones who was standing on the other side of him, Draco leaned in and whispered to you.

“Meet me after class?” He asked. “Promise no funny business, just you and me.” He murmured and you tentatively glanced up at him. “This isn’t about you know what, is it?” You asked quietly. Draco knew what you were referring to. He knew you would be worried that he might try and pry some information out of you about the DA. Checking from side to side with a quick look, he held up his hand in front of you and pointed his ring finger at you. “I promise, it’s just like our old chats.” He whispered, glancing down to see you smiling, realising he was attempting a pinky promise. “Alright, but you’re using the wrong finger.” You had to refrain from giggling and instead, you shyly hid your smile as best as you could. Hesitantly you raised your hand, almost too shy to even touch him, but you pulled his little finger free and linked it with your own. “Sorry, I always forget which finger it is, muggle promises are strange.” Draco mumbled.

It wasn’t long before Umbridge finally poked her head out of the classroom and invited everyone in.

Draco sighed as he slouched down in his chair with his arms crossed in the drier than normal Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge was particularly boring to listen to as she droned on about a test you’d all be taking soon.

Instead, his focus was trained on the notebook that peeked out of the top of his bag that sat under his desk. He wished he could pick the book up and leaf through the pages, idly reading your handwriting, take in your thoughts and feelings and remind himself of days before now. Sometimes Draco wished that he could outright approach you and tell you that it was him, that he was your soulmate, but really that would be quite a bad move.

Draco wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to actually tell you, perhaps there was something that would prevent him from doing so or some sort of consequence and he was especially wary of this since his fourth year at Hogwarts when Pansy Parkinson had involved herself.

***

“What is that tatty old thing anyway? And why do you always brandish it about like a... a trophy or something?” She had asked with a judgemental edge to her tone, stealing it right out of Draco’s lap. The boy had nearly thrown himself across the common room at her as she hurried off with it. “I bet it’s a diary.” She giggled to herself. “Yeah, or he keeps secrets in there.” Crabbe added as he joined her. “That’s what a diary is, you dolt.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Draco stormed towards the pair of them, his heart racing with fear as he watched Pansy teasingly open the cover of the book. However, much to Pansy’s surprise and even more so to Draco’s, there wasn’t a single word, not a single drop of ink, no markings, nothing. The book was completely empty. “You really carry around an empty book?” Pansy questioned, sceptical with her upper lip curled in disappointment. “What did you expect, my heartfelt feelings?” Draco scoffed, his tone cold and sarcastic as he snatched the book back from her, trying not to appear too hurt that his book had been handled roughly. “I’m to keep it safe. Father sent it to me.” Draco lied through his teeth, but thankfully, his lies were hard to detect, even for someone who knew Draco’s tactics to uphold his image and Pansy just pulled an expression that told him that she thought it was weird.

***

But now, as he sat in class, Draco could still see the small dent in the leather cover that Pansy had caused when she’d roughly stolen it from his grasp. He was still angry about it even a year later, perhaps it was irrational to be so annoyed about damage to a book, but this was special and he remembered how very upset he had felt that someone other than him had held the book. It was precious, vulnerable and he treasured it.

But it wasn’t just the book that he treasured. No, what he considered to be more important, more precious and something truly wonderful in every aspect was you. Which was why he had started to slowly distance himself from you. But as Draco looked up to see you sitting a few rows ahead of him in the middle of the classroom, the thing that reminded him of why he wanted to see you peeked out from under your jumper sleeve. Your hand was bandaged and Draco was quite angry with himself, because the night before when you had unknowingly written to him in your book and told him that a teacher had hurt you during detention, Draco had immediately known what it meant and he was livid.

“Attention, mister Malfoy.” Umbridge practically shrieked across the classroom, slamming her hand down onto the front desk, disturbing the Friday afternoon gloom and making everyone in the room jump at her sudden raised voice before she gave him a forced smile. Draco lazily sat up in his seat, eyes flitting to you every time Umbridge turned away to write or point at something on the blackboard as his mind wandered throughout the rest of the lesson.

When the class finally came to an end and Professor Umbridge excused you all to enjoy the rest of your Friday evening, Draco left the classroom and leaned against the wall outside until the very last person left the room.

Draco gave you a subtle smile before he very quickly peeked around the doorframe to see that Umbridge was climbing the stairs to her office before he turned to look at you and give you a proper smile. “I’m so sorry it’s been months, it’s bloody difficult with her around, it’s like she’s everywhere.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I understand, everyone is on high alert at the moment.” You replied in a quiet tone, almost too afraid to speak up as Draco began to walk you down the stairs, having avoided the eyes of all of your classmates and hopefully any spying caretakers too.

You were anxious to be spending time with Draco after all of this time. Especially as now he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad and part of you was afraid that your friends had been right last year. What if he did try to use you? But Draco had not yet betrayed your trust and you firmly believed in giving him the benefit of the doubt, you just hoped you weren’t doing it at your own expense.

“Come, we can talk in here.” Draco stepped into a hidden little alcove that was behind a statue at the side of the staircase. It was unlikely anyone would stop long enough to be able to hear you both talking and no one could see you hidden around the corner either.

“Was she hard on you yesterday?” Draco whispered his eyes softening as he watched you give him a little nod. “Yeah, a little.” You replied. “How did you know?” You queried, shyly looking up at him. “Pansy told me she caught you and Neville yesterday.” He explained and you just gave him a little nod. It wasn’t an outright lie, Pansy had told him she’d caught some students, but she never said who, it was only until you confided in your soulmate that it had happened that he knew you must have been in the group that Parkinson had caught. He watched as you slowly lifted your hand and pulled up your jumper sleeve to show him the bandage.

“Can I see?” Draco asked softly, gently taking your hand into both of his, holding you so softly like he was afraid he could hurt you with just his tender touch. You nodded, Draco leaning down to catch the way your eyes seemed to be filled with shame and you glanced at him, only for a second with a watery gaze.

Slowly and as carefully as he could, Draco unwrapped your bandage, reading the words that had been carved into your hand. “Oh love, I’m sorry, I should have been there to stop it from happening.” Draco sounded like he was scolding himself as he apologised, the emotions reaching his eyes as they swam deep in worry.

“It’s alright, I knew I’d end up in detention with her eventually.” You sighed, watching as Draco gently held your hand in his. He couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make his stomach turn horribly. It sickened him to no end and part of the reason he had joined the Inquisitorial Squad in the first place was with the hopes that he might be able to protect you better from that position. Not that he would let on to that, though.

“Does it hurt still?” He asked. “It still stings a bit and it’s sore.” You told him, your eyes saddened as you looked down at the writing you had tried so hard to conceal all day, not just because you were ashamed of what Umbridge had done, but because you simply could not bear to look at it. Would it always be there? You wondered if it would serve as a constant reminder and you hoped that with time that it would fade, but you couldn’t help the worry that sat deep in your stomach that the mark would remain long after healing and you hoped at the very least, that it would not make your stomach turn every time you looked at it.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes looking up to meet yours as you let a shy, watery smile take over. You hoped not to cry, but Umbridge and her punishment was still very fresh in your mind and you felt a horrible chill roll through you whenever you thought of it. Merlin only knew how you had managed to make it through your lesson with her without it affecting you terribly.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, but I’m here now.” Draco whispered it so quietly as he pulled you against his side. He hated that he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Draco hated that he couldn’t stop Umbridge from hurting you and part of him hated himself for how weak he was for you. Did you find it strange that he was so apologetic? That he was almost loving towards you? But the worry seemed to slip from his mind when he felt you lean against him. It was moments like this that made Draco question himself. He questioned if he should continue to create distance between you, or if keeping you close was easier to keep you safe. And he questioned things like if he should find a way to help you realise that he was your soulmate like he had worked out two years ago. But he was afraid. Draco was starting to feel like that was beginning to be all too common for him to feel these days as things became more intense. The pressure from his father to do increasingly worse things that simply did not align with Draco’s morals was enough to twist his mind and now with working under Umbridge, he hoped it did not skew his true alignment and morality. It was this that he was fighting so hard to keep, because it was the one thing he could control when everyone else was insistent on pushing him into the directions they wanted him to go in.

What you didn’t know though, was that your friendship, his connection with you was more than just that to Draco. When he was around you, he didn’t feel like he had to cling on to who he was and put a mask on. He could just be himself and it relieved some of the tension and the fear.

But the question begged itself again. Am I too close to her?

“You know, Draco.” You broke the silence, the Slytherin humming in response, prompting you to continue. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for years.” You told him. And while it was somewhat true, you had known him since you both had started Hogwarts, you never really knew him until recently. Without even knowing what lay deeper in your connection to Draco, you could feel something there, you felt drawn to him.

That’s because you have, he thought. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same too.” Draco replied with a soft smile, only he really did know what you meant, more than you did and he wished he could tell you.

“We should go.” Draco spoke, almost in a regretful tone as he carefully and gently bandaged your hand back up. He hated that he had so little time with you, but he was thankful at least, that you were not against spending time with him. Stepping forwards, Draco checked the stairwell. “There’s no one around.” He reassured you. “See you soon.” Draco smiled sweetly at you. “I hope so.” You nodded, mirroring his smile before you stepped out of the alcove and made your way down the stairs quickly, Draco waiting several minutes before leaving, just in case.

The end of term was on it’s final stretch with one last exam to sit the following Monday for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But as the weekend came, you decided to spend at least some of it with the person you’d not been able to see nearly all year.

“Can I ask you something?” You broke the silence, Draco glancing over at you from his spot on the grass. You were both sat down by the lake, hidden by a bit of overgrown foliage and rocks. It was a part near the shore of the lake that not many people went to and it was perfect for spending a private moment with someone. “What is it?” He asked as he reached up to push his hair to the side.

“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.” You sighed, fiddling with the book that sat closed in your lap. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous.” Draco said, looking over at you with a sweet smile and you felt yourself warm at his words. “Well in that case,” You paused, looking out over the horizon of the lake. “Do you believe in soulmates?” You posed the question as if you were terrified he’d tell you it was utter rubbish, but when you heard him give you a little hum as he thought about it, Draco leaned over a little, resting his hand on your arm to get your attention.

Meeting his gaze, his blue eyes softened when he saw how nervous you looked and he wondered if someone had told you that it was all an old wives tale.

You seemed to become more shy under his touch and Draco smiled to himself, feeling that it was sweet that you seemed to get so flustered whenever he touched you, even though it had very rarely happened.

“I do, I believe in soulmates.” He reassured you. Draco wanted, with every fibre of his being to show you his book, to tell you everything. But he didn’t. “Did someone tell you it was...” He trailed off. “Stupid? Yeah.” You huffed out. “Do you think there’s someone out there for us?” You asked, relaxing a little as Draco leaned down to gently grip your hand.

“I know there is.” Draco smiled softly.

Sometimes I wonder if I already know you, you wrote. Perhaps we do know each other, but we won’t know until we reach the end of this book, he wrote only moments later. The trundle of the train rolling over the tracks began to lull you into a sleepy state as you sat in a mostly empty carriage on the Hogwarts Express. It was the end of term and while too much had really happened for you to fully compartmentalize and process it all yet, you took solace in knowing that you could figuratively lean on your soulmate for comfort.

You told him everything you felt, almost like a journal and in turn he did the same. He detailed his thoughts, his feelings and he came to you when his day had been too much, but neither of you were too specific. You wished you knew who he was so that you could give him physical comfort, so you could both lean on each other and you wished for this even more so now that you started to wonder if you already knew him.

I promise I’ll write to you as often as I can. You scribbled it down into the book. But there came no answer. And days after you had arrived in London and returned home for the holidays, there was still no response.

If only Draco could tell you what had happened. If only he could write to you and explain it all from beginning to end. But he had no idea if he could, because his only way of communicating with you was no longer in his possession.

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