mastermindmiko - Tumblr blog

mastermindmiko

Not all those who wonder are lost

requests are open, send them into my inbox thank you sm for 200 followers

183 posts

Last active 2 hours ago

Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.

Last Seen Blogs

tigrestriped

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒!

garhwalisong

Uttarakhandi Videos! Garhwali, Kumauni Song

twelverriver

come away with me

get-the-horns

Mess with the goat, get the horns!🤘

sivyera

There are no wizards.

mastermindmiko · 12 days

Text

The person at the opposite end of the table (James Potter)

Pairing: James Potter + reader word count: 2237 warnings: none but lmk if you find any warning: Your first date with James after being close friends for years

If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

a/n: I'm back baby!!!

I have nothing to wear, and I'm not exaggerating. Coming to Hogwarts, you only bring your uniform and a few spares, many many pyjamas, and a few outfits for hogsmeade weekends, nothing more. Today is crucial. It is the day where I'm going out on a date with James, my James, except that today 'my' has a completely different meaning.

When you go out on dates, you're supposed to wear something elegant and stylish, but still simple and with enough glamour to make the person that will be sitting on the opposite end of the table like you even more. One, I don't have any attire that suits these descriptions, and two, How is it possible to make the person on the opposite end of the table (james) like you even more when they've already seen you at a ball when you look your greatest and during periods, in a foetal position while your cramps are eating you alive?

The simple and only reasonable answer is that you can't.

I can spend the whole hour before I have to meet James stressing over my outfit, which albeit is very important, instead of stressing over the actual problem that I have, but that would be very counter intuitive.

Everyone of the girls is already gone to hogsmeade, so I've got the whole room to myself to panic, cry, scream, jump, pretty much whatever I want, but I don't know what I want. The reason why the date is later than usual is a part of the problem. James set the date at a later time because he knew that I would need some time to myself before going out, some time to process my feelings, try on some outfits, and of course, panic.

He knows this because he's helped me get ready for many dates before, I wish I could say the same, but James hasn't ever gone out on a date which means that he's the one that should be nervous, but instead I am.

He knocks on my dorm room door at the worst possible moment, which is every moment when you're nervous. He looks stunning, like he always is, but he's got a red tint on his cheeks and the same cheeky smile he always gives me, but this time, it's hesitant. I shot him a smile and hoped that it wasn't as awkward as I felt it was.

"Ready to go?" James says, and I nod. I close the dorm door behind me after grabbing my bag. I walk down the stairs with him. If this was any other day, I'd have already wrapped my arms around him, but this isn't any other day. This is a date.

We walk out of the common room, and I feel everyone's eyes on us, I wonder if they can see that my shoulders are tense or that I'm already sweating -

"How are you?" James asks me, and I find him looking at me intently. Has he always looked at me that way? I let out a noise that sounds more like a squeak, and instead of dying of mortification, I face the other way and shoot him a thumbs up.

Why do I have to be so damn awkward? This is James for merlin's sake.

We reach the last carriage waiting for us that's heading to Hogsmeade, and James hops on. He reaches out an arm for me to grab, but I choose the railing instead, leaving his hand alone in the air. I want to slap myself because I always take his hand, but it means something different. It's not my friend helping me. It's my date being a romantic gentleman.

He puts his hand down nervously, and he sits down which brings upon a new problem. Remus and Sirius and Peter always sit next to each other and I would sit next to James due to lack of other options, it had become habitual. My question is: the carriage is empty, there are other options, where do I sit? If I sit opposite to him, it might seem like I'm trying to put distance between us, however, if I sit next to him, I might seem pushy, and-

I don't get another second to panic when the carriage starts moving, and I stumble next to him. I purse my lips, knowing that fate has decided where I'm going to be sitting for this short ride.

Normally, I would lean into James, allowing him to wrap an arm around my shoulder, earning us many teasing comments from the rest of the boys that we've grown accustomed to over the years.

Normally, we wouldn't go out on a date at all, so I stayed to my side, shoulders tense and tension in the air. I wonder if James feels it, too. The ride is silent, and when we arrive at hogsmeade, James doesn't offer me his hand to get down, just another reminder that today is different.

"Where do you wanna go?" James asks, and I shrug my shoulders when I infant have very strong opinions about every single place here. James already knows this and takes us to the three broomsticks. My heart stumbles, smiling at the reminder that James knows me so well.

Our fingers crush together, and my heart jumps to my throat, and I stumble over air. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, I wanted to slit my own throat out of embarrassment. He grasps my waist, making sure I don't fall, creating a warmth over my waist that makes me want to glue his hands there so he can stay this way forever. Unfortunately, my stupid body blushed, and I took a step back.

We walk inside the three broomsticks and James leads me to a table with two seats, instead of five. I sit down opposite to him, and gaze out the window. Couples are walking down the street, holding hands and kissing. I really really want to do both those things with James, I've been waiting to do them forever, but here I am being stupid, on a stupid date, nearly falling when his hands come even close to mine. He sits down next to me, and he looks at me for a few seconds, I flush and look away.

That apparently was the final straw for James because he goes, "What's up with you today?"

"What do you mean?" I say after clearing my throat, he laces his fingers together on the table and says, "You realise that that is the first thing you've said the entire time that I've seen you."

It takes me by surprise because I register that he's right, we've been together for at least twenty minutes and in those twenty minutes not a single word has left my mouth. I fidget with the napkin in front of me and say, "I'm just not a big talker..."

"Y/n...I'm James. We've been friends for years, why are you acting like you don't know me? Like I don't know that you can't keep your mouth shut for two minutes?"

I blush, and he continues, "You tripped when I tried to be even near you...I- if you don't want this, you've got to tell me-"

"I do want this, I want this so much...".

"But?"

"I'm just really, really, really nervous."

He looks at me and replies, "But you've been on dates before."

"Dates with people who aren't you, James." I admit, and I must've grown another head because that's the way that James is looking at me. He says, "What's so scary about me?"

"That you know me." I say, and he tilts his head, I elaborate, "Any other date, I talk about many things, ask them about themselves, if they've got siblings and all that, but I already know you, I don't have any of those questions to fall back on. Any other date, I have to wear something to knock them off their feet, but I can't do that with you because you know me. Any other date, I'm not terrified that this will mess up my entire friend group dynamic and on any other date, I wouldn't be this nervous because I've never liked anyone the way I like you and I need you to like me the same way."

I sigh when I'm done and James's eyes are twinkling, he pushes her glasses back and he says, "You don't need all these things."

"We don't need to talk about those stupid things, and you don't need to wear something amazing to knock me off my feet because you've already done that, a while ago actually. You most certainly don't have to worry about messing up our friend group because you cannot even if you tried, Sirius will not allow it." He laughs, and I chuckle along with him. "And you definitely do not need to be nervous because I already like you more than you'd believe because i know you"

I don't need to give it another thought, for once in his life, James is right. I sigh, "You're really good at calming me down."

He smiles, "You act as though that's a new thing. Remember during your OWLs when you tried going under your bed because you thought that the exams couldn't get you from down there." He laughs at the fond memory while I flush at my stupid idea.

"What do you actually want to do today?" James asks after a beat. I think for a second, we always go to buy some prank supplies or candies, and while I still want to do that right now, I want to do something else.

I abandon my chair and sit next to him on the sofa. I sit an appropriate distance away from him, but he grabs me and pulls me flush against him.

"That's all?" James asks, and I shake my head, "well, that and this..." I trial off as I reach to intertwine our fingers, in some weird way it makes me nervous, but it also feels so right. James squeezes my hand, and I smile. I add,"And maybe some drinks."

One of the men that Madame Rosmerta hired comes and takes our order, the same thing we always get, butterbeers.

James' thumb rubs over my own hand, and while this isn't the first time he's done this, today, it has a different meaning. James asks, "Anything else your beautiful heart desires?"

It might be too early, but I tentatively lean it to capture his lips with mine. It's not our first kiss, and it's definitely much less messy, filled with fewer confessions, and more comfortable. James reciprocates in a millisecond, and his other hand reaches to cup my face.

We part for a gasp of air before James leans back in for another peck. It's only then that I realise that we're in public, I blush. What makes me blush even more is the way James is looking at me. I ask, "Have you always looked at me that way?"

"Definitely." He replies. I want to kiss him again when the man that works here slides over our drinks and says, "Two butterbeers for the lovely couple."

I don't want to correct him, and he leaves, but I wonder if James wanted to because for the first time today, he is incredibly nervous. I reach for his hand and say, "You okay?"

He nods quickly, and I chuckle nervously. Maybe he doesn't want to be my boyfriend. I ignore the sunken feeling in my chest and sip on my butterbeer.

"Do you not?" I ask, after a long sip.

"Do I not what?" James replies, confused, but looking even more nervous if possible. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye, I say, "Do you not want to be a couple?"

"I-"

"Because James, I don't know what we're doing then." I reply, I've never wanted anything casual, and certainly never with James, I want to be able to call him my boyfriend, decline another guy's invitation because I've got a boyfriend, not ponder over whether or not I mean to him as much as he means to me.

"I do." James says, and I look at him unsure. James adds, "I really really want you to be my girlfriend."

"James, are you sure because -" I start, and he silences me with a kiss. I can imagine him kissing me once at least every hour in the future. He says, "The only reason why I hesitated because I want this to last, I don't want you to reject me cause I don't think I can take a rejection from you"

I can see his worries. He's never been out on a date, and a date with a close friend is much more nerve wrecking, that's all aside from the fact that James has spent his entire life being turned down by lily and no matter how tough he tries to act, I know that he was genuinely hurt by the years of rejection.

I try to soothe his worries, "I'm already out on a date with you, James. I'm not going to turn you down...plus, I'm already your girlfriend, I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles, but he says, "You could get sick of me."

"If I could've gotten sick of you, I would've during first year, but I'm still here."

34 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 24 days

Text

b r o t h e r | f u c k e r

Y/n and Regulus have been hiding their relationship for a few reasons, but Y/n is starting to get frustrated having to hide it from one of her best friends, and her boyfriend’s brother. They finally decide to tell him, and things don’t go exactly as planned.

Warnings and such: 18+ MINORS DNI!! Illusions to sex (nothing explicit), some steamy stuff, tons of fluff, a good bit of angst, defiantly brotherly angst and teasing, swearing, not proof read…I think its funny!

Word Count: 3427

(I’m not going to always add this, but this one is rather long)

———————————————————————

“I think he knows…”

My head was resting on Regulus’ bare chest, fingers tracing the freckles on his sweat dampened skin. I could feel my own skin get warmer as I spoke. He was rubbing painstakingly gently at bruise he left on my hip. I know he felt bad about it, and he would continue to feel bad about it as it healed, but it didn’t hurt.

“You could just tell him, stop lying about it…”

Regulus laughed. “I’m not lying about anything, but why do I have to tell him?!”

I untangled myself from the sheets and his limbs. A dull ache in my hips sent another wave of heat though my body. I straddled his lap, reaching down to grab his t shirt from off the floor and slipping it over my head. He exaggerated a frown as I sat up, hands falling onto my thighs, thumbs rubbing circles across the love bites. His frown quickly vanished; a proud, cocky smile taking it’s place.

“He is your brother after all.”

“You were friends with him before you met me.”

I rocked my hips gently as I leaned over, thumb tracing his jaw line before pushing his chin away. His head fell to the side, exposing his neck with no hesitation. What a push over!

“This is true” I sighed, licking from his collar bone up to his jaw. Regulus shuttered, his grip on my thighs tightened immensely. I smiled into his skin, giving a gentle kiss to his pulse point “Would you rather I tell him,” I kissed his neck again, “every,” a little lower, “little,” a little lower, “detail?” I smiled to myself before biting down on his collar bone, my tongue immediately soothing the skin.

Regulus sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth, holding it for a moment before I began kissing my way up his neck again. His chest shook slightly as he exhaled, the air getting caught in his lungs as he tried to ‘play it cool.’ I kissed his pulse point again, one hand coming up to tug at a few curls behind his neck before holding his jaw in place.

“Well?”

I didn’t give him a chance to answer before going to work, determined to leave a hickey on one of the most sensitive parts of his skin. He wasn’t a fan of the aftermath, but this man was a puddle beneath me, willing to do anything I asked of him as long as I didn’t stop my attack on his neck. His hips bucked as he groaned loudly.

“Fuck-” he managed, hands pushing and pulling at my hips, willing himself to not leave another bruise on me, but loosing terribly.

When I was satisfied, I littered gentle kisses across the rest of his face, intentionally avoiding his lips, though I couldn’t help but kiss the corners of his mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He muttered, eyes closed, but the smile on his face told me that if this was how he was going to die, he wasn’t going to complain.

“I’m sorry, love.” I whispered against his lips, careful to pull away before he could reach me. I got off of him quickly, grabbing a pair of underwear out of my dresser and shutting myself in the bathroom.

I could hear Regulus throwing himself against the bed. I laughed. *(Think Elio in CMBYN when he gets caught…)*

I emerged a few moments later and watched Regulus from the bathroom door. He was flat out on his back, long, dark curls falling gently on the pillow behind him, his chest rising and falling steadily. The fingers on one hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand lay just below the waistband of his boxers. I couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was saliva, but his skin glistened in the sun- he looked like a sex-ravished God. This is how I would forever picture Regulus Arcturus Black.

“Reggie?” I sauntered over to him, unsure if he was still awake.

“Don’t touch me,” he peeked at me with one eye and smirked.

He rolled over, reaching for a glass of water on the table. I could see the red lines down his back, the small crescent shaped spots just above his hips - the marks made from my fingers.

“Shit!” I whispered, finger tips gently tracing the marks. “Baby, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be,” he rolled back over, glass in hand and sat up. “I like these ones. You on the other hand,”

He pulled his my t shirt so I was standing closer, raised the hem of it and rubbed his thumb across the same bruise. I looked down at it too. I admit- it looked really bad. It was already many shades of purple, the darkest of them in the center.

“I promise Reg, it really doesn’t hurt!” He eyes searched my face, trying to find a trace of uncertainty- or anything that told him I was lying. He sighed, looking at the mark again. “Here,” I grabbed his wand off the floor (Why was it on the floor? And when did that happen?!) pointed it at my hip, and watched him as he watched it disappear entirely.

“That’s not the same,” he pouted, “but thank you.”

I bent down to kiss him, but just before I reached his lips, his hand found my face, stopping me in my tracks.

“I have a question,”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean by ‘every little detail’?”

His lips barely touched mine as he spoke, but I could feel the smirk on his mouth. Before I could respond, I was falling to the bed, Regulus laying between my legs, his weight a comfort on my still sore body. He held himself up on one arm, the other tracing over my sides, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I didn’t answer him, I don’t think he actually intended for me to have an answer- he just wanted to prove I didn’t have full control over him.

I reached up, carding my fingers through his hair, and enjoying the comfortable silence.

“Do you really think he knows?” Regulus finally spoke, his head resting in his hand.

I shrugged

“Sort of…I think he knows I’m lying when I tell him I can’t be somewhere with them, but he doesn’t bring it up. And he isn’t actually mad he just…”

“Does that Sirius thing?” He smiled

“Yeah, exactly!”

Regulus scooched up higher, resting his forehead against mine and took a deep breath.

“We should tell him…I’ve never hid anything from him before in my life, and I don’t want to start now. Not with you. I don’t want to feel like I have to hide you.”

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, my legs wrapping around his hips. Regulus laughed into my chest, falling on his side so we were, again, face to face. He held my gaze, fingers tucking loose stands of hair behind my ears. I returned the favor.

“How?” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Quietly,” I smiled. “I could have him come here…”

“When?”

“Whenever you want?”

“Can we do it now? Before I change my mind?”

My eyes widened- I would have thought he would try to push this off as long as possible. Regulus Black was a very rational person; everything he did was well thought out and planned in advance. Nothing was spur of the moment, and I had never known him to do anything that required the spontaneous attention of his brother- or any attention from his brother for that matter, though I know he missed having it.

“Y-yeah. I can ask him to meet me- us here.” I tried to sound confident, but suddenly I was nervous too. Regulus nodded, rolling over on his back.

I got out of bed, scribbled down a quick message to Sirius, and sent the paper bird on it’s way. Instantly, I regretted it. Not for any reason other than the state of my room.

“Reggie?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think he’s going to know we were having sex?”

He looked around- school robes and random articles of clothing littered the room. The bed sheets were in a pile, blankets on the floor, and the atmosphere reeked of lust and desperation (though I didn’t mind so much.) The boy dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter, scrambling to his feet.

“Go shower, I will clean this up!” Regulus spun around in a circle a few times, evidently suddenly overwhelmed. “Reg! Go!” He looked at me, hands on either side of my face and kissed me deeply. My hands held his wrist, and in that moment, I couldn’t care if Sirius showed up- well….

The shower turned on and I immediately set to work trying to straighten out my room. Regulus and I were usually never this carefree and messy, but last night we saw no reason to bother. After finding my wand under a blanket on the floor, I remember I could use magic! The shower turned off just as I was finishing up-

*knock* *knock*

No turning back now

I opened the door and smiled at Sirius. I stepped aside, trying to collect my thoughts as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. Before I could say anything he looked at the bathroom, light on, steam pushing its way out from under the door, then back at me, quizzically. He looked me over from my head to my feet, clearly noticing that I had not in fact been in the shower, but someone had- or still was. His face lit up and he pointed excitedly.

“Is this what you’ve been doing- is this who you’ve been doing?!” He whispered.

“Sirius!” I tried not to laugh. Before I could say anything else, the bathroom door opened.

Regulus emerged, hair dripping and shirtless. He turned to the dresser just outside the bathroom, having not noticed Sirius or I standing on the other side of the room. We, however, could still see the marks on his back. Shit.

“As-tu vu mon pull, mon amour?”

“No!” Sirius screeched, which caused Regulus to jump.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Sirius made for the door, but I waved my wand, slamming it in his face and making sure it stayed locked.

“You’re joking! Please tell me you’re joking?!”

“Sirius-”

“Oh no, Reggie! Don’t you start with me!”

“Sirius!”

“And you!” I stood tall, holding my ground, despite the fact he was quite a bit taller than me. Sirius backed away slightly. “I’ll come back to that.”

He turned back to Regulus and looked at him for a while before;

“Qui pensez-vous être?! (Who do you think you are?!) Elle est ma meilleure amie! (She’s my best friend!) Je n’y crois pas! (I don’t believe this!) ENFOIRE! (Motherfucker/bastard) Je veux dire c’est génial, mon meilleur ami et mon frère…(I mean it’s awesome, my best friend and my brother) MAIS ALLEZ! (BUT COME ON!) Mon meilleur ami et mon frère! (my best friend and my brother!) Si tu lui brises le cœur, je devrai te tuer! (If you break her heart, I’ll have to kill you!) Oh, mais et si elle rompait avec toi? (Oh, but what if she broke up with you?) Je ne peux pas la tuer, c’est ma meilleure amie…(I can’t kill her, she’s my best friend…) Mais c’est “bros” avant- (But it’s “bros” before-)

“Sirius!” Regulus finally stopped him, somewhere between laughing and ready to strangle his brother. Meanwhile, I had resorted to sitting on the bed, Sirius’ pacing had made me dizzy, and my French wasn’t good enough to keep up.

Sirius looked up, annoyed that his ramblings had been interrupted.

“Quoi?! Je n’allais pas le dire! (What?! I wasn’t going to say it!)”

“English! Please!” Sirius narrowed his eyes and looked at me, then back at Regulus who had just found a shirt to wear.

“Did you do that to him?” He asked, pointing to Regulus’ back. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, embarrassment washing over me. That was an intimate detail I would have preferred to stay hidden.

“Padfoot-”

“Because if you did, please teach Remus!” I was at an absolute loss for words. Sirius’ expression was stone cold, unyielding and sharp, but I genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not?!\

“Wait- what?” Regulus asked, scratching his head

“I’m gay, idiot! Keep up!”

“WHAT?!”

“This is about you, not me. Focus Reggie for fucks sake!”

Regulus sat down and looked at the ground like he was trying to take in an entire year’s lecture 5 minutes before final exams.

“Okay, no- separate, please.” Sirius motioned for us to sit farther apart on the bed. Regulus didn’t look up, but I rolled my eyes, not amused.

“Are you mad?” I asked him after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know yet,” he said, as he began to pace again. “Am I the last one to know?”

“First,” Regulus chimed in, still not looking up.

“I’m the first?!” He pretended to get choked up “I’m so honored you guys I-”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“And please don’t say anything! We want to tell people, just,” I held Regulus’ hand “Not yet.” He looked up at me and smiled, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

“Okay, that’s kind of cute.”

It was an overwhelming feeling, having both brothers here at the same time. I don’t think they had spoken to each other in about a year, and while they both wanted to mend their relationship, neither knew where to start. I couldn’t imagine, let alone have planned that I would be, quite literally, the center of all of this! I didn’t know if this would ultimately hurt their relationship even further, strain my relationship with one or both of them or worse- both.

“How long has this been going on, because y/n, you’re a shitty liar, but you’ve been sticking to the same bullshit for a while now!”

“Sirius,” Regulus sighed, running a hand through his still damp hair. “Y/n and I have been friends since day one-”

“Really?”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry-”

“But we didn’t start…”

“Bumping uglies?”

“For fucks sake, Sirius!”

Note to self: kill Remus for teaching Sirius muggle slang. And apparently; only the bad ones.

“Sorry! Sorry. I meant ‘passionately making…’no, I can’t say that, somehow it’s worse.”

Regulus groaned and threw a pillow at him, somehow managing to hit him in the head.

“We’ve been…together for a few months now…it started before then, but officially…”

“Wait, so this is like, official, official?!”

“Why would we tell you if it wasn’t?!”

We talked for a while longer, answered the genuine questions Sirius had, and made him promise not to say anything to anyone. We knew he would tell Remus, but Remus was great at keeping secrets. Eventually, Sirius decided he wanted to leave, and Regulus had promised Evan, Barty and Pandora that he would study with them. I knew he would be back later tonight, but it still felt weird letting him leave, like things wouldn’t be the same now that someone knew.

“If you get bored, come study with us, yeah?” I nodded shyly. “Oh come on now, you were quite bold this morning! Don’t tell me that’s going to change!” He kissed my cheek, keeping his lips close to my ear “Because I fucking loved it!” He kissed me again and set off on his way.

—

A few hours passed and dinner was drawing near. I was famished from the days activities, and decided to force someone to go eat with me, seeing as Regulus wouldn’t be back until later, not that he and I ever went together, and I wouldn’t know what to say to Sirius if I was alone with him.

Much to my relief, Lily and James were sitting in the Gryffindor common room.

“Hey, Y/N!” James smiled, peeling his attention away from Lily for a brief moment.

“Hey guys! Seen Remus anywhere?”

They both looked at each other but shook their heads

“Library?” Lily suggested. I said goodbye and made my way across the castle.

There were only a few students when I arrived, thankfully, but Regulus, Evan, Bary, Remus and Sirius were all sitting in the back corner, though at separate tables. Regulus looked up when I walked in, mouthed a small ‘hi’ and smiled. I could see Sirius glaring out of the corner of my eye. I made my way to the Gryffindors.

Remus smiled as I sat down.

“He told you, didn’t he.”

“Yep!”

I kicked Sirius under the table.

“Hey! He doesn’t count!”

“Oi!” Remus kicked him under the table.

“Okay, fuck you guys!”

A few moments passed and I could hear the boys at the table behind us begin to pack up.

“Remus, wanna grab dinner?”

“Definitely!”

“Hey!” Sirius whispered, “You can’t have my brother AND my boyfriend.”

“Yes she can!” Remus smiled. Sirius glared.

We all walked out of the library and Sirius held the door, stepping though it behind me so his brother had to hold the door for himself.

“You know, y/n, I’ve been thinking,”

“I had no part in whatever he’s about to say, I swear!” Remus threw his hands up in self defense.

“Shut up. Anyway, We’ve all got nicknames, and even though you belong to a lesser house-”

“I have full access to the kitchens-”

“As I was saying, even though you belong to the second greatest house, you’re our best friend!”

Meilleur ami.

“Thank you?”

“I’ve been thinking really hard about this one, so tell me what you think,” Sirius slowed down so we were within earshot of the boys behind us. He cleared his throat, evidently about to make a grand gesture. “Brother-fucker.” He said proudly, bowing elaborately as he continued to walk.

The boys behind us stopped (one of them anyway), Remus nearly choked on the chocolate frog he was shoving in his mouth, and I was trying to decide whether or not to laugh or punch him in the mouth. Sirius was doubled over laughing, and after a moment, I realized he meant nothing cruel by the name.

I sighed, and laughed a little, trying to steal a glance at Regulus, but didn’t dare to turn around entirely. We continued walking, and it seemed as though Evan and Barty were none the wise to what had just been said. I threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder and glared at Sirius.

“Hey, Moony?”

“No!” Sirius tried to protest, horrified.

“Sirius has a secret kink I think you should know about!”

“No!” Sirius continued to protest, trying to get in between Remus and I. It was clear Remus knew what I was doing and, thankfully, he was on board with it.

“Oh is that right? Do tell! And please don’t spare any details!”

I heard Regulus snort behind me. An overwhelming feeling of relief washed over me. I knew it would still take time for Sirius to come to terms with me and his brother, and eventually we would have to tell the others, but that was a worry for another day. Sirius had taken it surprisingly well, and he was the biggest worry.

As we entered the great all, the Slytherin boys veered off to the left, and I was finally able to steal a glance at Reggie, who looked incredibly happy as he winked at me, exaggerating a stretch which showed off a small, red and purple bruise on the side of neck. My entire body felt flooded for the 100th time today- I had completely forgotten to hide that! He smiled at me again, pulled a curl down to hide the mark and walked with his head high, proud and poised.

I could see past it though, the image of him this morning looking like a sex-ravished God still burned in my mind-

“Hello?! Earth to brother-fucker? You’re drooling!”

I dragged my attention away from Regulus and back to his brother, who followed my line of sight and pretended to gag.

“Disgusting.”

“Moony!”

“No!”

375 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 2 months

Text

Is it possible to be in love with a fic?

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [22.4k] A biggie. Best friends to lovers, summer, childhood, pining, crushes, a kiss that wasn't supposed to happen, the last cherry popsicle and three promises.

When you were both eight years old, Steve Harrington handed you the last popsicle and told you he loved you.

It was the most innocent kind of talk, from the mouths of kids, fresh faced, summer freckles, ankles dipped in the pool and sunburn on your cheeks.

You weren’t truly sure you both knew what those words meant back then, the depth and meaning that they held. But you said them back, lemon and sugar on your tongue and he’d beamed at you, brighter than the Indiana sun and that was that.

And that night, when you were camped out on his bedroom floor, the first day of summer vacation and his bed sheets draped across your heads, he shared his secret stash of twizzlers with you, lips tinted red and pinkie fingers linked.

His eyes were solemn when he whispered to you, the dulled yells of his parents downstairs acting as his backing track. His mom was slurring a little, his dad laughing mirthlessly and something smashed. You had both flinched, moved closer together between the pillows and stuffed animals.

You remember his mouth brushing up against the shell of your ear, hushed promises falling from his lips, the kind that only an eight year old could make.

Steve Harrington promised you three things that night:

One, he’d always be your best friend.

Two, he’d always protect you from everything bad and scary.

And three, he’d never break your heart.

He only kept two of those.

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

“I think Jessica is coming over,” Steve said as he handed you a can of soda, the cold condensation on it making your fingers slip over his.

You screwed your face up and rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses - Steve’s sunglasses - ‘cause it was a rare Saturday that you’d managed to get off work together, seventeen and desperate for time to do nothing with your best friend.

It wasn’t meant, but you let the sound of annoyance slip from your lips, stretching yourself out on one of the Harrington’s sunloungers. Steve looked at you from where he’d sat himself down by the pool edge, exasperated and somewhat fond. You picked at the edge of your bikini bottoms, peachy orange and still damp from the water.

You scrunched your nose, looking over at him from over the top of his old Ray Bans as he took a sip of his cola, eyes on you, waiting for you to talk. He knew you wanted to say something, could tell from your face, the way you twisted your lips and fidgeted with your swimsuit.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

If you didn’t know the boy well enough, you’d have thought his tone was condescending, maybe even a little mocking. But when you were both fifteen, he’d stood by your side at the counter of the ice cream parlour, watching your cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink when the older guy behind the freezer had winked at you, handed you your cone and called you ‘sweetheart’.

Steve had called you the same ever since, never getting tired of the way you lit up at it, all soft and full of affection, lips twisted to hide your smile, nose turning pink.

“I thought it was just gonna be us hanging out today?” You asked, trying to keep your voice level, casual.

It was silly the way your chest was hurting, an anxious creep across your bones, making your skin too warm in a way that the sun wasn’t. It wasn’t necessarily because you didn’t like Jessica, you didn’t really know, honestly.

But you’d been in Steve’s life long enough to know that not many of his girlfriends had liked you. It made hang outs and movie nights awkward, a fresh set of eyes on you, watching the way you and Steve interacted, holding back from the way you’d normally touch him, keeping your head off his shoulder, throwing your legs over the arm of the chair instead of his lap.

You’d go to the kitchen, the bathroom, bringing back more snacks and a drink only to hear the boy being interrogated about how long had Steve known you, didn’t she have a boyfriend and god, why was she always here?

You’d stand with your back against the hallway wall, a packet of twizzlers crushed to your chest as you listened for Steve’s response. It was always the same, sure and strong and leaving no room for argument. It made you feel warm and a little safer, like you belonged in the Harrington house just as much as him, brought up in the large home with its pool and absent parents together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas in the dining room, mom and dads by your sides.

“She’s my best friend,” he’d always say, “where she goes, I go.”

Some girls put up with it for longer than others, dirty looks given to you out of the car window when Steve would insist on dropping you home too, a messy press of a kiss pushed to your cheek before he made sure you got in your front door okay.

There were girls that were done after bumping into you in the school hall, a sweater on your frame, the hem almost covering your shorts and god, they’d think, that looks awfully familiar. They’d sit in whatever class they had next, eyes on the chalkboard but their minds trying to decide if they’d seen that sweater on Steve’s bedroom floor before, thrown lazily over the back of his desk chair.

You’d find them arguing about it at his car after school, voices clipped and raised, drawing a little too much attention and you’d hear your name said like a curse. Steve would let them walk away, hands rubbing at his eyes and when he’d pull himself onto the trunk, he’d find your gaze across the parking lot and he’d smile, a little soft and a little sad.

But he’d look at you from the driver seat when he was taking you both home, eyes flickering with something else as they dare to roam across your shoulders, your chest. You’d catch him staring, brows raised and your knowing smile would make him blush but he’d tell you, everytime:

“Looks better on you anyway.”

Steve shrugged, looking a little guilty but swung a leg into the pool, letting the water swish around his shin.

“I know, but,” another shrug, his gaze on the blue tiles, “she’s my girlfriend.”

You sighed, pushing yourself off of the lounger and walking over to the edge of the pool, chlorine and cedar from the garden filling the warm air. You poked a toe to the boy’s side before sitting down next to him, both feet in the water and the garden slabs sun-warmed against the back of your thighs.

You nudged a shoulder into Steve’s, fighting a smile when he did it back, shuffling closer so your arms brushed together.

“We haven’t hung out just the two of us in ages,” you told him, trying to sound annoyed but your words came out a little mournful, huffy even. “It’s been weeks.”

You knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault. Between school and both of you working weekend jobs, it was hard to find time to see each other. And since the startling realisation of finding out there were kids with superpowers out in Hawkins, other worlds that held monsters and magic, you figured trips to the cinema were at the bottom of both of your lists.

“M’sorry,” Steve said anyway, and you hated the way he sounded, like he really meant it, like it made him sad too. “If the kids didn’t need rides to the arcade all the damn time, maybe we’d-”

You rolled your eyes, fond. “You know it’s not the kids I mind, Harrington.”

And that was true. You and Steve had taken your unofficial babysitter roles pretty seriously, and with six twelve year olds to wrangle together, it would’ve been a hard enough job without the threat of impending doom lurking behind every corner.

You’d grown up thinking monsters only lived under your bed, hiding behind your closet door, and they could be banished with a flashlight, a kiss from your mother, the promise of chocolate chip pancakes in the morning from your father.

But you’d grown up too fast, seeing things that weren’t supposed to be real and you hated the way you knew how to butterfly stitch someone's skin back together, how you’d seen too much of your best friend's blood.

He pressed his nose to your shoulder, warm skin on warm skin and he let his teeth graze you, a playful threat of a bite before he sighed, knowingly, understanding.

“Jess said she likes you,” Steve offered, hands on the grass as he leaned back, head tilted to the sun. He was watching you from under his lashes, the length of them casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Said you had chem together and you were crazy smart.”

You scoffed, laughed mirthless, because the only reason Jessica Preston knew you had class with her was ‘cause she used you to cheat off of you before you moved seats.

“I bet she did,” was the only answer you gave, because the garden gate was suddenly squeaking and Steve was standing up, splashing water over your thighs as he greeted the girl in question.

“Jess, hey!” Steve called out, reaching for her and pressing a kiss to her lips. His came away glossy and a little pink as Jessica reached into her bag, pulling out a tube and quickly reapplying. He gestured to you, smiling, “you two know each other, right?”

You grimaced, holding your hand up in some sort of wave before you pushed Steve’s glasses onto your head.

“Sure,” you said, not sounding sure at all. You stood up, brushing drops of water and small flecks of gravel from your skin. “Chemistry, Mrs Telford’s class.”

Jessica squinted at you, pretty features twisted in confusion and Steve wanted to jump head first into the pool from the awkward silence that had filled the yard.

“Right!” The girl finally gasped out, all false smiles and white teeth. “Totally! Of course.”

And then, you were dismissed.

“Steve, there’s a party tonight,” you heard the girl tell him, stomach twisting as you walked past them, grabbing your shorts from the lounger and dragging them up your legs. “Matt’s parents are gone and,” she tapped a finger on his chest, trailing it down his sternum. “So are mine.”

You wondered if you had too much sun, wondered if the heat was what was making your insides bubble, your chest feeling too tight. You found your way into the kitchen, the open patio door doing nothing to curb the same heat that had leaked in from outside.

You ran the tap, waiting for it to turn freezing before filling a glass and chugging it, back pressed against the counter so you didn’t have to look out the window.

You could still hear them though.

“You can pick me up, right? I’ll be ready at eight and then you can stay over at mine,” Jess was practically purring and it made you slam the now empty glass down into the sink a little harder than you meant to. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

“Uh, actually, we’re having a movie night later,” you froze, turning to look over your shoulder to see Steve gesture to you through the window. Jess followed his hand, lips downturned and eyes holding venom.

“You’re kidding right?” The girl asked, disbelief spilling from her lips. “I’m offering you a night in my bed and you’re turning me down for Back To The Future with her?”

It was actually The Goonies, you’d wanted to tell her, but Steve was licking his lips nervously, eyes flickering between you and Jess and you really wish you could say something to save him.

You stepped out the patio doors, arms crossed self consciously over your chest. “Steve, it’s okay, we-”

Steve shrugged and he didn’t look surprised when Jessica stepped out of his embrace, glossy lips twisted in shock and annoyance.

“We’ve had it planned for a while Jess,” he explained, “movies, pizza and-”

“Well come after,” Jess demanded, like it was simple. “Or better yet, just do your stupid movie night some other time.”

Steve looked confused, staring down at the girl as if he was wondering which part she wasn’t understanding. You grimaced, eyes wanting to fall shut ‘cause you knew what the boy was going to say and god, you wished you could hide from it.

But then he was explaining to her that you were staying over, crashing at his like you always did, like you had done for years.

Steve said it so plainly that you almost wanted to laugh. In fact, your lip twitched, the threat of a smile pulling at it and you turned, toeing at the grass as you waited for the impending blow out. The boy had an endearing habit of stating the truth with such a sincerely soft tone, almost oblivious to the carnage his honesty could sometimes cause.

“I’m sorry,” Jessica stated, voice climbing a little higher in volume and pitch as she took in this new information. “I could’ve sworn you just told me you had another girl staying with you tonight.”

Steve scrunched his nose, mouth parting as he wondered what he was supposed to say to that. He floundered, hands gesturing wildly as he tried to gain some control on the matter.

“Jess, what? It’s not a big deal, it’s not like that.”

And he was right, it wasn’t. Not yet.

Nothing had ever happened with you and Steve, not when you were pressed together at night, side by side in his bed, moving closer as you slept, pillow creases on your cheeks, hands close to places you shouldn’t have been touching.

Nothing happened in the mornings either, when you were both soft with sleep, hair mussed and misbehaving, warm hands and toes pushing into the other's skin as you tried to find the comfort of that lazy feeling in each other.

You’d never noticed him stare at you when you got out of the shower, skin still damp, hair pushed back from your face and a too big shirt clinging to your thighs. He never realised you held your breath when he pulled his top off at night, body warm and solid beside you, fingers desperate to trace a map of constellations across his back, freckle to freckle.

Your realisation that your best friend wasn’t just attractive, but was pretty, was a slow burn. It came as you aged, an appreciation growing as you did, Steve too. You noticed the boys in your class as they grew taller, filling out, and you didn’t realise the same was happening to Steve until the summer you both turned fifteen.

You’d spent school vacation at his parents lake house, watched him laze shirtless on the small motorboat, new muscles flexing, drops of water casting tiny rainbows across the tanned skin it clung to. He’d grown his hair out, chocolate brown strands out of control and messy, boyish as it was pretty. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, new feelings, and when Steve continued to throw you over his shoulder, playing in the shallows of the lake, his wide hands spanning the curves of your thighs, your hips, you ignored the burn his touch left behind.

Jess huffed out a laugh and it sounded dangerous, a little like a threat. She found your gaze, held it until hers dropped to scan you up and down, doing her best to make you feel small.

“Whatever, Harrington,” she shoved past Steve, shoulder edging into his chest as she headed for the gate. “Ask your little friend to suck your dick instead.”

You burned at her words, eyes wide as you stared at a crack in the patio, refusing to watch as she stormed through the gate, the hinges protesting loudly as it was slammed shut, leaving you both in silence.

The trickle of the pool filter was the only sound for a minute, maybe two, then you heard Steve sigh, heavy and world weary. You looked at him, feeling a little guilty.

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” You asked.

Steve gave a half shrug, already moving to sit down on the lounger that you’d spent your morning on. You joined him, sitting on the end so you didn’t touch, like you weren’t supposed to after Jessica’s accusation.

“Nah,” he told you, “it’s fine, it’s… whatever.”

You snorted and the sound made the corners of his mouth lift a little, eyes flitting over to you, always interested in what you were going to say.

“That’s a new height of romance, Harrington,” you mused, foot dipping into a small puddle of pool water. You drew lines and shapes on the dry concrete with your toe, watching the sun dry them out almost instantly. “It’s whatever?”

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, reaching over to pluck his sunglasses back from the top of your head and pushing them over the bridge of his nose. He looked good with them on, you mused, too pretty, too nice. “Wasn’t like we had that much in common.“

“Then why date her in the first place?” You asked, face twisting with annoyance.

Steve had developed a habit in freshman year of dating girls who gave him nothing more than wandering hands in the back of his car, passive aggressive comments when he missed their calls and whiplash when they found out about you.

A smirk tugged at his lips, a handsome match with his Ray Bans and messy hair and he turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“You’re a pig,” you muttered, trying to sound disgusted but Steve was pushing his fingers into your sides, hands dragging over your ribs and you were laughing despite yourself, “get off me!”

You were ignored, unsurprisingly, and you wondered if Jessica had made it back to her car yet, if she’d driven away or if she had heard your shriek of delight when Steve suddenly stood and scooped you up.

One arm was wrapped around your waist, a wide, rough hand pressed against the skin just under your breast, his thumb grazing the of your bikini. The other curved itself on your thigh, your body held tight to his as he ran with you, hurtling you both to the edge of the pool and you pressed your face into his neck when he jumped, bracing yourself for the cool water.

Steve didn’t let you go until you both surfaced, his feet planted on the bottom of the pool as he pushed you both to the surface. Your hands were around his neck and you gasped, water dripping from your lashes and lips, hair a wet mess and he was laughing. That soft laugh that made any summer day feel warmer than it already was, a laugh that reminded you of fresh lemonade and bedroom sheet forts.

He let go of your legs before you waist, letting the lower half of your body slide out of his grasp and slide against his, so you were chest to chest, your abdomens pressed together and you almost lost your footing, chin slipping under the water, eyes gazing up at him despite the way the sun made it hurt.

Maybe it was the way you pressed a hand to his stomach to ground yourself, feeling the muscles tense under your touch, maybe it was the way you were looking at him, maybe he just forgot he wasn’t supposed to look at you like that. But something happened and Steve cleared his throat, letting go of your waist and allowing himself to fall backwards and under the water.

He reappeared a few feet away, hair darker and slicked back, eyes a little wild as he looked at you, like you were suddenly dangerous.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you.

You weren’t overly fond of Nancy Wheeler, not at first.

You couldn’t deny that the dislike you felt for the girl stemmed from jealousy and your own inability to get a handle on your feelings but, you had to admit, she was better than most of the girls Steve had dated before.

Pretty, smart, sharp and with a keen eye. She liked journalism, the quiet and even you. You shared the knowledge of The Upside Down, bonded over the fear you both felt for her brother and his friends and when you passed each other in the hallway, you nodded, civil and overly aware of all the things you’d both seen together.

You weren’t joined at the hip and you didn’t love how she slid her hand into Steve’s, or how he kissed her at her locker, telling you he’d catch up with you at lunch. You’d spent months telling yourself you weren’t jealous of Nancy, just that you missed your best friend and you resented the way the girl took up all his free time.

You missed the way he snuck in your bedroom window, a pointless task and waste of his energy, ‘cause your parents would hear him clambering up their drainpipe, eyes rolling, fond and affectionate, ‘cause it was Steve.

He’d always told you that he did it for the fun of it, to see you smile when his head appeared over the sill and so you’d help him clamber over the window frame. He’d spend the late hours with you, whispering about nothing and laughing about everything, shoulder to shoulder in your bed until you both fell asleep, sprawled on top of the sheets, his shoes in the middle of your floor and his arm slung over your waist.

You liked it when the sun woke you early, the curtain still opened from when you’d forgotten to close them after Steve’s sudden appearances, the light pink and peach as it leaked into your room. It painted stripes of light and shadow over your walls, over the boy’s broad shoulders and cheek, the other smushed into your mattress, hair a mess and lips parted sleepily.

You got to admire him like that, when his eyes were still closed and he was so unaware. Steve couldn’t catch you staring, wondering if his lips were actually as soft as they looked, if he knew how pretty you thought he was, if he thought you were pretty too.

He still picked you up for school in the morning, his BMW sat at the end of your drive but his clothes were sleep creased, hair mussed from spending the night with Nancy instead, sneaking through her bedroom window and not yours. He still smacked a kiss to your cheek when you parted for class but it wasn’t the same, he wasn’t quite just yours anymore and you hated the way it hurt.

So yeah, you could appreciate that Nancy was a nice person and seemed to be good for Steve - at least, until she wasn’t - but you didn’t have to like her for it.

When she broke your best friend’s heart, you’d found him sitting on the hood of his car after school, lips downturned and expression sour, nothing but worry beating in your chest ‘cause you hadn’t seen him since the morning before and no one answered your calls to his house that night.

But then rumours started swirling around the halls, floating over tables in the cafeteria like wildfire and you couldn’t fucking find him. You saw Nancy in the library during your free period, her head bent close to Jonathan Byers as they whispered about something you couldn’t hear, their hands on the table, fingers too close to touching and Nancy had the right to look guilty when her gaze met your own.

So you’d marched straight over to Steve and he crumbled a little when he saw it was you, slipping off the hood and letting you usher him to the front seat. He didn’t really hesitate when you held out your hand to him, silently asking him to let you take care of him.

He placed the car keys in your palm, eyes tired, face sad and you were desperate to fix it. You hadn’t seen Steve like that before and you didn’t know what to do, his pain was yours, your heart beating hard against your chest until you felt like your bones were bruised.

There were talks of the girl cheating on him, wandering around late with Jonathan and you knew they shared the same worries and trauma that you all did when it came to knowing things the rest of the town didn’t, but you didn’t know what was happening between the pair.

So you drove him home, listened when Steve told you that he loved her, that he didn’t know how to fix it. But then it was and then it wasn’t, a game of on and off, yes and no, that you couldn’t really keep up with.

It all came to a head on Halloween, after months of leaving your window open for no one.

Steve climbed in, startling you, hands finding your bedroom floor before his feet did and when he stood, eyes meeting yours, you wanted to be mad at him.

It had been a week since you hung out, passing in the halls and waving when you could, exams stressing you out and his time taken up by Nancy and all the parties he seemed intent on going to. He’d given up trying to get you to go with him, sick of it all after the second time, a spare part, third wheel, an audience to his kisses with Nancy.

But he stood by your bed with the most forlorn expression on his face, features soft and watery and you simply pulled back the sheets, shuffling over to the side that had been made yours when you were both seven, so Steve could claim his.

The boy toed off his shoes, his jacket falling to the carpet as he shrugged it off and you felt like a kid again when he crawled across your mattress, shuffling underneath the covers and pushing himself against you.

Steve got as close to you as he could without asking for a hug, his pride already seemingly too hurt to put himself out there, even with you. But he didn’t hesitate when you turned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you, your nose pressed into his hair. He smelled like smoke and weed from the party, a little like Steve underneath it.

He returned your touch instantly, seeking it out with a desperation that almost shocked you, eager to accept it when it was offered. He tugged you in by the waist, arms wrapped around you and his face pressed into the crook of your neck.

He wished he told you then, that you smelled like summer and afternoons by the pool, like cherry popsicles and promises and home. But he didn’t feel brave enough, not then, not yet.

“We broke up,” Steve finally mumbled, voice a little broken and muffled by your neck and hair. “She broke up w’me. Called us bullshit.”

You frowned, confused, pulling back a little in the hopes that Steve would look at you and explain but his grip on your waist only tightened and you patted at his hair, smoothed the almost curls at the nape of his neck and whispered his name.

“Steve, hey, babe, what?” You received a groan in answer but you persisted, shuffling out of his grasp and gripping his chin with your finger, pushing at him a little pleadingly until the boy looked up and met your gaze.

“What happened?”

Steve didn’t answer until you pulled the sheets over your heads, your own little bed fort that let the dim light of your bedside lamp filter through, soft and warm and hazy. You let go of his chin, your hand smoothing his hair back from his face and he pushed his cheek into your touch as he spoke.

“Nancy, it’s over,” he told you, a frown pulling at his brow, “she said the whole relationship was bullshit, that I was bullshit.”

You held your breath, letting him talk as you smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone, feeling him relax into you despite the way he was letting his words tumble from his lips, mixing in with his emotions until he was stuttering over himself.

“She, she said we were just acting like we were in love?” Steve caught your stare, his eyes confused as he looked at you, as if he could find an answer in your gaze but you just gaped at him. “Said that I only thought I was in love with her ‘cause I was too busy tryin’ to pretend I wasn’t in love with someone else, or some shit like that, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“What?” You whispered, voice full of surprise because what the fuck?

“Right?” He answered, indignant and wide eyed. “I don’t know what she was talkin’ about, she would answer me, just told me she wasn’t in love with me and god, fucking Byers took her home.”

“Jonathan?”

You screwed up your face, hardly even reacting when Steve groaned again, pushing himself back into you, his face comfortably pressed into your chest, just above the swell of your breast, his mouth warm through your shirt.

It should’ve startled you, the proximity, the intimacy, especially after missing him for so long. But it was still Steve, your best friend, the boy that promised to be there until the very end.

“Why’d Jonathan take her home?” You asked, your cheek pressed to the top of his head as you spoke, the sheets fluttering around you both as Steve shifted, arms wrapping around you more, pulling you until you were flush with his body.

He couldn’t have been touching more of you if he tried.

“She was drunk,” he mumbled into your chest, lips moving over your shirt, making the material shift across your skin and it lit you up, body electric and the air buzzing. “I told him to. She didn’t want me.”

You sighed, eyes closing at the pained sound in the boy’s voice and you let him hold you, your own hand taking into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked.

“Steve,” you murmured, soft and sympathetic.

He whispered your own name back to you, his tone the same and it made you smile. You could feel his own against your chest, lips lifting, breath coming out in a small huff.

“You could still talk to her tomorrow, y’know?” You said conversationally. You hated yourself for trying to fix it for him, for attempting to out the girl back between you both but fuck if you weren’t a good friend. “Maybe she just said all that shit ‘cause she had too much to drink.”

You twirled a length of the boy’s hair around your finger, making it curl. “Was it Jack Templeman’s punch? That dude makes rocket fuel in a bowl, she might have been absolutely wasted.”

Steve shook his head before he pulled back, falling into your pile of pillows and gazing at you.

“Nah, I don’t wanna chase her,” he said and despite the sadness in his voice, he sounded sure. “I don’t wanna be with someone who thinks I’m bullshit. I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but damn, bullshit?”

You shook your head, gaze hard and you wanted to shake him, to make him understand how wrong Nancy was.

“Steve, you're not bullshit.” He held your stare, lips parted. “You’re the furthest thing from that, I’m sorry I don’t know why Nancy said that, I wish I could-”

He stopped you before you could continue, a small smile lifting at his lips and he found your hands between the tangle of sheets, tugging you over to him and onto his chest. You lay your head there, protesting when Steve’s finger poked at your cheek, fond and soft.

“I know what you’re gonna say, sweetheart, and it’s fine.” He sighed, sleepy and weighted. “You don’t need to fix everything for me, not this time, anyway.“

You fell silent, thinking about the times Steve was referring to, wondering if this was finally the year he stopped needing you. The thought made your chest hurt, your eyes blur and you sniffed.

“My dad’ll be home from that conference soon,” he mumbled softly and you could tell without even looking at Steve that he had his eyes closed. “You can come fight my battles for me then, how’s that sound short stuff?”

It was silly, his words. The way they made you feel. Like you were needed again, important. Like he didn’t wanna face the things that scared him without you. It hurt that after all those years, he still felt like that about his own father but it calmed a part of you to know that he didn’t seem as cut up about Nancy Wheeler as he once was.

“Are you okay?” You asked, tentative, and you made a face ‘cause god, that seemed like a stupid fucking question. “Will you be okay?” You asked instead.

Steve hummed noncommittally and you craned your neck to look up at him, smiling when you were proven right at his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as you shifted over him, tucking yourself into his side.

“I mean yeah, sure,” he murmured, voice dropping lower and rougher as sleep pulled at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

He turned his face to yours at that, nose nudging at your forehead as he blindly sought out your features, pressing a soft, warm kiss to your temple.

“M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair and you stilled, swallowing the lump that had caught in your throat. “I’m so sorry I’ve not been around.“

You squeezed your eyes closed at his words, letting them burn until you were sure you weren’t going to cry.

You wanted to say it was okay, to soothe him, to make Steve feel better but the lie got caught on your tongue and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him something that wasn’t true.

You shrugged instead, lips twisted to keep them from turning downwards, his words heavy on you because god, you’d missed him so much.

“I missed you,” Steve whispered and fuck, it lit you up inside. “Like, really missed you.”

He was soft and gentle with it, words brushing against your temple, breath warm, hands twisting in the sides of your shirt, barely grazing at your skin, head butting at yours playfully.

He was Steve, he was late nights, long days, summer rainstorms, driving lessons, flunking your test, Saturday afternoon drives, feet on the dash, music too loud, smile blinding.

He was a little bit yours again.

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling a little lighter than you had before, eyes falling shut like Steve’s. “I missed you too, Harrington.”

Steve’s breath was becoming slower, chest falling heavy and lazy and you both curled into each other on instinct, sleep pulling both of you together, the same way it did when you were both ten and piled on the sofa, movie still playing.

“You still my best friend?” His voice was a soft mumble, and you heard the worry there, hidden behind a crack of humour.

“Yeah, I’m still your best friend.”

—————

You didn’t see Nancy until a week later, and when you did, you didn’t expect her to corner you at your locker, big eyes wide and asking if you could talk.

You met her after school, walking to the opposite end of the parking lot from where Steve would be waiting on you, perched on the hood of his car as usual.

Nancy saw you coming, her face a little nervous as she bid goodbye to Jonathan who’d been standing beside her and you watched as they squeezed each other's hand before he took off.

You raised your brows as you approached, tugging your headphones to sit around your neck and you wondered what Nancy Wheeler could possibly have to say to you.

The world wasn’t ending, the kids were all safe and she wasn’t your best friend's girl anymore.

She squinted at you, trying to work out your mood, your emotions but you remained a little stoned faced, wondering if Steve would be pissed if had to see you here. You knew they’d spoken since Halloween, a chat that Steve had said felt too formal and stilted, but the air was cleared enough that they could cross paths when dropping Dustin, Will and Lucas at Mike’s house, an awkward wave exchanged from the front door to the car.

“You wanna sit?” Nancy asked, gesturing to a bench that sat by the edge of the school line, shadowed by trees that provided a little coverage from the wind that was picking up now that winter was approaching. You kicked at the leaves on the ground and shoved your hands into your jacket pocket, holding it tighter to your body.

“Sure,” you muttered, following her across the grass, leftover rain sticking to your boots.

The sky was still blue, a crisp Fall day that turned your nose pink, numbed your fingers and had you wishing for a Hawkins summer, the smell of sunscreen and cut grass replaced with rain and the promise of snow.

You sat on opposite ends of the bench, bodies turned to face each other and with the safety of your school bags between you both. You picked a dead leaf off the sole of your shoe, waiting for the other girl to talk.

“Look, I don’t know what Steve’s explained to you,” Nancy said, voice cracking a little with what seemed like nerves. “You know, when we spoke the other week.”

You shrugged, “I mean, not much,” you answered, “but it’s really not my business to know.”

Nancy nodded at that, appreciative, “I guess but I just want us to be friends, you know? I wanted you to understand why I broke it off with Steve. He’s a great guy but-”

“I know he is,” you interrupted, brows pulled together in confusion ‘cause there was never any debate about that. You softened a little when Nancy smiled at you, lips pulled up and eyes a little knowing. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s fine,” she told you, voice lighter than it had been before. “Like I said, Steve’s great… I guess I just didn’t love him the way I should’ve. And maybe that would’ve been a little easier if I didn’t see the way he looked at someone else.”

You frowned, staring at the girl as she looked back at you, silently willing you to catch on.

“What?” You asked, “I thought this was about you and Jonathan? You can’t act as if you haven’t been glued to Byers hip since this happened.”

Nancy had the right to look guilty, picking at her nail before looking back up at you. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I didn’t mean for what happened with Johnathan to happen… it just did, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

She brushed a curl from her face, bringing her bag down to her feet so there was less separating her from you. The wind rushed at you both, stinging your cheeks and whipping at your clothes before it settled back down and let Nancy speak.

“I’m not blaming this on Steve, I’m not, and I shouldn’t have said he was bullshit,” she rushed out, “maybe we were just meant for other people you know? And think that, maybe, Steve doesn’t know that he’s already found his person.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, “but whatever. I’m just glad I don’t have to hear the two of you arguing every other day.”

Nancy nodded, smiling at the way you were avoiding her gaze, your mind suddenly racing with what she’d said.

“For what it’s worth,” the girl murmured, foot nudging friendly against yours, “it would probably make it a lot easier on the poor guy if this girl could admit that she was in love with him too.”

“Alright, yeah,” you stood up suddenly, cheeks flushed and your head a little scattered. “I think you’ve got it twisted Wheeler, but, uh, good talk.”

The girl hid a laugh, pressing her lips together as she watched you gather your bag, eyes shining. Nancy nodded, looking up at you as you stood a little awkwardly. You raised a hand in a goodbye, a small smile lifting at your lips in what seemed like an amicable agreement.

You stopped before you got too far, the sun in your eyes as you squinted back at the girl who was still sitting on the bench.

“Hey, Nancy?” She looked at you, eyes surprised.

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?” You asked and she was taken aback at how genuine you sounded. She paused, eyes flicking over to where Jonathan’s car was parked, engine idling as he waited for her.

She nodded, resolute. “Yeah, I am,” she answered quietly and confidently.

You nodded too, surprised at how it warmed you to hear that. You never wished ill on the girl, you just didn’t like how she broke your best friend, leaving you to put him back together again, piece by piece.

“I’m glad Steve’s got you, you know,” she called back before you could start to walk away again and her words made your heart stumble. You swallowed, looking at her with parted lips. “He’s lucky to have you.”

And well, wasn’t that a statement to behold?

When you finally clambered into Steve’s car, bringing the chill and some stray leaves from the outside, Steve was frowning softly, concerned by your lateness.

He looked at your flushed cheeks, pink nose and glassy eyes from the sharp wind and cranked up the heat, pointing his vents to your side too.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, voice worried, “I was gonna call in the kids, start a search party.”

You laughed, a little strained after the conversation you had, rubbing your hands together for warmth and you shrugged, noncommittal.

“I was uh, just catching up with a friend.”

Can I go where you go?

When Steve got a job after graduation at Scoops Ahoy, it was supposed to mean free ice cream and catching a late showing at the cinema after his shifts.

It brought you Robin Buckley, Steve in a sailors hat, a new flavour of ice cream every month and fucking Russians.

You thought dimensions and demogorgons were about as much as you could handle but Dustin came back from camp with a new gadget he’d built, some kind of high tech radio that looked like it was held together with duct tape and paper clips but the thing actually worked.

It worked well enough to pick up secret codes from underground labs, translated by Robin and well, fuck. Suddenly you were trapped in an elevator that wasn’t actually supposed to be an elevator and Erica Sinclair was going to miss her Uncle Jack’s party.

You knew Steve wasn’t happy with you, you could tell by the way his jaw was set, the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, and his lips twisted and his gaze dropped when you tried to catch his gaze.

It made the air in the elevator crackle and buzz, tension on top of tension as you moved around each other, looking for a way out, hardly touching, hardly speaking. Robin twisted her lips, sympathetic, when she caught your gaze, your face flushed with annoyance.

He’d told you not to come.

Not out of meanness, or because you had fallen out, simply because he didn’t want you in harm's way. You’d ended up yelling at each other, a hundred feet below the mall and trapped in a metal box because why did it matter when Robin and the kids were stuck there too?

Steve, of course, cared that he had another friend, a thirteen year old and a ten year old to keep safe and he had every intention of doing so. But he couldn’t help but feel sick, his stomach rolling, at the thought of you being put in a dangerous situation.

You’d told him that he was being stupid, that you weren’t leaving him. You thought you’d seen all the dangers Hawkins had to offer, you could handle yourself, you could help him.

His worst fears came true when you all got split up, Dustin and Erica hopefully somewhere above you all, on their way for help, for something, anything.

But then a man came, tall and dressed in uniform, badges adorning his chest, and he took one look at the way Steve stood in front of you when he entered and swung for the side of his head.

The boy fell backwards, dazed, groaning at the shock and pain of it all before pulling himself off of the floor, body slow and sluggish. He lifted his head in time to see the same man gripping you by the back of your neck, hair fisted painfully in his grasp as he pulled you out of the room. Robin was yelling, swearing as she tried to get a grip on you, her hand wrapped around your ankle from where she was on the floor but you were pulled from her easily, a swift kick sent to her stomach for the audacity of her trying.

Steve felt his heart leave his chest, plummeting to his stomach, his blood running cold and everything around him slowed down. His vision was fuzzy but he could see the panic on your face, lips parted in a gasp as you tried to get to grips with what was happening.

Russians. A lab. Under Starcourt Mall.

He couldn’t move fast enough and he wanted to yell out, he wanted to run. But it was like being trapped in a bad dream, body damp, sheets tangled around his limbs as he tried his best to scream, to move, but nothing fucking happened.

The door slammed shut before the ringing in his ears could stop and he could taste blood in his tongue, metallic and horribly warm. He made his fists bleed from pounding on the door, knuckles cracked and bruised, voice wrecked from yelling your name.

He only stopped when the man came back, pulled him from Robin's side and threw more hits to his face, his body. His skin was littered with angry bruises, almost black, skipping the shades of lavender and pink, turning inky within minutes.

Between each punch, Steve spat out blood and asked where you were, groaning as he spoke. He was ignored, time and time again, until he lost it completely, tried to lash out, fists swinging, legs thrashing and he wasn’t sure if he was crying, or it was just blood dripping down his face but he wanted to sob, desperate for you.

He was thrown to a chair, tied back to back with Robin as some guy in a white coat threatened him with surgical equipment that looked like it didn’t belong in a hospital and when his eyes fell shut with the weight of his injuries, he wondered if he’d ever see his best friend again.

You were finally gathered up in what could’ve been hours later, maybe one, maybe five. A guard tugged at your wrists, taped together and red raw from where you’d tried to pull them apart and suddenly you were pushed through the same door they’d taken you from, thrown at Steve’s feet and the yelling continued.

Who did you work for, who did you work for, who did you work for?

It didn’t end until people were dead and Starcourt Mall was on fire.

Alarms had gone off, Dustin rushing in with an electric cattle prod of all things, weidling it like battleaxe and telling you all you had to run. You weren’t sure who was supporting who as you all tumbled back to the surface, dripping blood and tears onto the mall floor as Steve gripped your hand with a fierceness you’d never experienced from him before.

But then there were guns, El broken but still fighting, the rest of your friends, concern and confusion written on their faces ‘cause when you had all been fighting Russian Soviets, they’d been fighting Billy, the evil inside of him turning him into something different from the boy you’d seen in the school halls.

You’d held Max when he fell, body bloodied and ripped open, eyes glassy like he’d known what was coming. You left the mall that night with a new fear of loud noises, of fireworks that cracked and snapped in the sky. You knew what burning flesh smelled like, you knew that there was more to be said about monsters, more danger in the world than just the creatures that lurked in the cracks of the earth.

You knew that evil could come in the shape of a man, a familiar face, behind a uniform, a doctor's white lab coat.

You were tired, beaten, a little bloodied and bruised and your throat was raw after you’d screamed for Steve, fists beating on the door as you went ignored. You heard him from behind the steel walls, his voice as wrecked and panicked as your own and you sobbed when you heard his yells turn to groans, sickening wet thumps of bone hitting bone, breaking up the sound of him calling out your name.

You sat beside him in the ambulance, hands still clutching each other tightly, fear of being torn apart again ripping through you both. The medic wanted to take him to hospital, to make sure his cheekbone wasn’t shattered, that you both weren’t suffering from shock or concussion but Steve refused, just wanting to go fucking home.

The sky was angry, red and crying, plumes of black and crimson smoke billowing from the broken building and you didn’t know what to do. People were dead and the whole world seemed to be burning.

But Steve took you by the hand, pulled you to his side as you made sure everyone was okay, as well as they could be considering the circumstances and the boy stood a little numb as he watched you drop to your knees and fold Max into a hug, tears streaking through the blood and dirt on your cheeks when you pressed a kiss to El’s forehead.

Everyone was a little broken, barely standing, barely breathing and it didn’t seem difficult to continue the lie to your parents, calling them from a pay phone to say that you were okay, you had seen the news but it was fine, you had been at Steve’s the whole time, you’d be home in the morning.

You let Jonathan bundle you both into the back of his car, one of his old jackets thrown around your shoulders as Nancy sat in the front, Steve beside you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He dropped you both at Steve’s front door, little to be said between the hour of you as shock and tiredness tugged at your bodies, your heads. Hands were pressed to shoulders, squeezing softly, telling each other everything you all needed to say but couldn’t - not then, not just yet.

Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re okay, I’m happy you’re safe.

The Harrington house was empty, as expected and the rooms felt darker and colder than they had before, empty and too big, your harsh breaths rattling too loudly and you could feel a panic building inside you, clawing at your chest.

It grew when you looked at Steve’s face, dried blood and dark bruises making him look like he was about to fall apart and when you squeezed your eyes closed, you could hear the way he yelled your name, raw and broken.

A sob bubbled from your throat, spilling from your lips and you’d barely taken a breath before Steve was in front of you, arms pulling you into him, a hand around your neck, foreheads pressed together. It was supposed to ground you - and it did, in a way - but the cries still came, stuttered and broken, the heavy kind of sobs that made your body heave with the exertion of it all.

Steve held you through it, both of you swaying unsteady on your feet in the middle of his hall, shoes streaking dirt across Mrs. Harrington’s white tiles. Neither of you could ask the other if they were okay, ‘cause the answer was obvious but when your tears finally stopped, your face wet and your head sore, the boy took you by the hand and led you up the stairs.

He walked past his bedroom door, the little slice of heaven you most wanted at that moment in time, the only place in the large house that truly felt like home to you both. It was a surprise when he nudged open the door to the main bathroom, rarely used due to all the ensuites that were accessed through bedrooms but the large corner tub there suddenly looked like a gift from above.

You felt like a spare part when Steve let go of you long enough to turn the taps, filling the bath with hot water and a mixture of his mother’s expensive soaps and bath milks, sweet smelling bubbles and steam filling the room.

You found a first aid kit underneath the sink, pushed to the back of the cupboard, unused and when you motioned to the boy to sit on the closed toilet seat, he did without arguing. He spread his legs for you without you needing to ask, standing between his knees with a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls, more tears slipping down your cheeks as you mumbled out apologies, dabbing the stinging liquid into his skin.

Steve simply held onto your legs, eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the back of your knees, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin there as he whispered back, telling you it was okay, it’s fine, I'm fine sweetheart.

The cuts on his face didn’t seem as angry, as severe, when you wiped away the blood that crusted around them but the dark bruises seemed mean and vicious against the pale cast of his skin, shock seeping out all the colour from his cheeks.

He let you press a kiss to his forehead, clutching at the sides of his head, fingers buried in his damp, messy hair and the push of your lips was fierce, conveying everything you wanted to say but couldn’t, because fuck, you didn’t know how to tell your best friend that you think you were falling in love with him. Because how else could the thought of losing someone hurt so fucking much?

Steve left you alone to bathe, skin stinging as you stripped down to your underwear, your body and bones lazy as you pulled at your jeans and shirt. You gave up when you got down to your underwear, cotton pants and lacy bralette mismatching in a clash of cherry print and forest green and they both stuck to your skin as you slid into the hot water.

You drew your knees to your chest, eyes closed and head pressed there as you let the heat nip at you, cuts and scrapes protesting but it was good to feel something when your head felt numb, your chest hollow. You weren’t sure how long you sat there for but you could've sworn someone was calling your name, a knock on the door echoing on the tiles and your mouth felt too fuzzy to answer.

Steve could only hear the slow, steady drip of the tap and panic rose in his chest when you didn’t answer him and he had thoughts of you unconscious and slipping beneath the bubbles.

So he knocked once more, heart racing before he turned the handle and pushed at the door a little, calling out your name.

He heard the water splash at the sides of the tub, movement at least. But then he heard you sniff, the noise turning to soft sobs and it gripped at his heart, crushed it a little and before he knew it, he was in the bathroom, bare feet on the tiles and staring down at you, tucked into the smallest ball you could amongst the bubbles.

Neither of you spoke as Steve pulled off the shirt and cotton sweats he’d changed into, his own eyes glassey as he left his boxers on, stepping into the water with you, sitting down in the space behind you.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world when he spread his legs and pulled you into them, your back to his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around your knees too, holding you to him. He let you cry like that, head bent over yours, the two of you curled into the water together, steam licking at your skin. You think you felt a tear drop from his eye, warm as it slid through your hair and onto your cheek and the feel of it made you search for his hand, scrambling desperately under the hot water and foam so you could link your fingers through his.

Your grip on each other was as tight as it was when he’d pulled you to your feet after Dustin saved you from pliers and scalpels, the same way it had been when a six year old Steve had helped you up from the playground, knees scraped and front tooth missing after falling from the monkey bars. It was the same touch you granted him when you were twelve and he had to go to the emergency room, his arm broken after falling off of his bike. You’d begged to ride in the ambulance with him and his mom, his ink stained fingers reaching for you, not Mrs. Harrington.

When you had no tears left to give and the water was turning lukewarm, Steve turned the tap again, let the hot water fill the room back up with steam and soothe your tired bodies. He grabbed a sponge, tapped at your knee until you turned to him, face to face and unbelievably vulnerable.

But you let him smooth the sponge over the bare skin that he could see, up your arms, wiping away the soot from the fire, the stubborn dried blood that didn’t want to leave. He squeezed warm water over your chest, looking at your eyes and definitely not your bra, the pretty, green lace turning darker against your skin.

He pressed a kiss to your hair when you let your head fall into him, too tired to sit up and when you couldn’t hear the far away whine of sirens in the distance anymore, he helped you stand, the water that was light pink with blood swirling down the drain. He wrapped you both in towels, murmuring the whole time that you were okay, he had you, it was gonna be fine.

You pulled your favourite shirt from underneath his pillow, tugging it on and falling into his bed, the smell of Steve and home surrounding you in the same way that the sheets did, soft and comforting. The boy clambered in beside you, body stiff and pain settling in his bones but you glued yourself to his side, hands intertwined and pressed between your chests and you couldn’t close your eyes until Steve leaned into you, breath warm and smelling of mint as he pressed his lips to your ear as he told you: “Remember when I promised you that I’d protect you from everything bad?”

You nodded, remembering that cherry flavoured popsicle and the way Steve’s pool looked so much bigger and deeper back then. “We were eight, Steve.”

He hummed in agreement, forehead rubbing fond against your own and you revelled in the fact that you both smelled like the same cotton and lemongrass body wash.

“We were,” he agreed, voice a soft whisper, cracking a little from the yelling that had ripped his throat apart. “But the promise still stands, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes to look at them and he looked a little fuzzy as you teared up. But Steve shook his head gently, hand tightening around your smaller one.

“No more tears, please babe,” he sniffed too, as if the entire night suddenly hit him, “I got you now, yeah? I’m never gonna let anythin’ happen to you, promise.”

You slept then, a little broken and fitful, but every time you shifted in your sleep, the boy followed, bodies traversing across the mattress and between the sheets. When you woke in the morning, you had your head on Steve’s chest, a leg thrown over his own, your thigh hitched high over his and his arms were a vice grip around you, his face pressed to the top of your head.

The sheets were on the floor, a pillow by the door as if it had been kicked and the sun was shining through the gap in the curtain, bright and warm and mocking. The world felt a little different after that night, and so did your friendship with Steve Harrington.

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.

Working at Family Video with both Robin and Steve meant that you got to spend a lot more time with your friends. It also meant that Robin was more privy to watching how you and Steve interacted with each other and it had the girl taking notes on your relationship with the boy like her new favourite science experiment.

“Look, I’m just saying, he’s not really dated since Starcourt and the boy lost it over you that night.”

You rolled your eyes, still putting away the videos that were stacked in your arms as Robin followed you up and down the aisles. The store was quiet, a Tuesday afternoon giving you little to do but you’d graduated after you fought a monster and survived the soviets, so applying for colleges wasn’t all that high on your to do list.

Your parents had taken that news better than Steve’s, both couples perplexed at their kids' choices to stay in Hawkins and work for the summer but at least your Dad had threatened bodily harm against you when you’d told him.

You eyed Steve who was on the other end of the store, leaning lazy against the counter as he ticked off the delivery list. He looked a little older, like you did, but the stubble on his jaw and the broadness of his shoulders made your lips part every time you chanced a look.

He was still Steve, but he was a little taller, a little stronger. He was still late night drives and sneaking through your window, mixtapes on your birthday and cherry popsicles in his backyard during the summer. Maybe he flirted a little more with you, comments suggestive and compliments coming easier but you tried not to think about it. When you did, late at night and alone in bed, it made your head spin, your lips part, your eyes close.

You sighed, turning to Robin to tell her with an exasperated whisper, “we’ve been best friends since pre-k, of course he was upset that I was dragged away by a fucking Russian Soviet, Robin.”

She rolled her eyes at you, stumbling over her own foot as she tried to keep up. Steve glanced up at you both at the noise, brows furrowed as you both froze, eyes a little wide and you waved, hands raised awkwardly in unison.

“What’re you both doing?” He called out, suspicion lacing his voice and you felt heat travel from your chest to your cheeks.

“Nothing,” Robin called out at the same time you told him you were fixing the horror section.

Your voices piled over each other and you wanted to groan, because Robin couldn’t lie to save herself and now you both looked like idiots. But Steve just smiled, fond, and turned back to his stack of papers.

“I'm telling you,” Robin continued, voice a little lower now, “Steve likes you, like, he likes you, likes you. Why can’t you see that?”

You stopped and turned at her last words, truly taken aback at how sincere she sounded, how confused she seemed.

‘Cause Steve was still Steve and you were still you and nothing in the world could really change that. Steve had promised you that he’d always be your best friend, and at nineteen, that still seemed like a pretty sweet deal.

You shrugged, pushing the last copy of Nightmare On Elm Street onto the shelf and you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling far too exposed at her interrogation.

“It’s not like that,” you told her, whispering still, “it’s never been like that with Steve.”

She huffed, swiping a finger along the row of videos and blowing away the dust she’d collected. Robin turned, an eyebrow raised. “Would you want it to be like that? ‘Cause seriously, dude, I still can’t believe that, in like, sixteen years of friendship, you’ve never even kissed once.”

You shrugged again, holding back on telling the girl that sometimes you thought the same.

When you were fourteen, you thought that Steve was going to be your first kiss. Looking back, you weren’t sure why, you just did. Maybe it was a feeling, maybe it was hope, maybe it was just inevitable.

‘Cause you grew up beside the boy and never once did he feel like a brother, and that had to mean something, right? He held your hand when you watched scary movies, when you crossed the road on Main Street, when it was rush hour, just like your parents had told you to when you were seven. He never dropped your hand, he never kicked you from his side of the bed when the movies you watched together became too much.

You went through middle school and high school still the same, joined at the hip, still sharing secrets, still holding hands when things got too hard.

But then one summer, Hayley Collins had a birthday party and you’d been sick, too ill to attend but Steve had still stood underneath your bedroom window, features twisted with conflict as you told him it was fine, he could go without you. You remember telling him to have fun, and to bring you back some candy.

He did. He brought you back fistfuls of sweet stuff, bags of M&M’s and pop rocks but you didn’t expect him to bring his lips to your ear and tell you a secret you never expected.

Steve had had his first kiss. A game of spin the bottle in Hayley’s basement with her cousin who was from out of town. A girl a year older, a girl who had pretty blonde curls and a reason to wear a real bra.

You remembered the feeling when your heart sank and the pop rocks stopped fizzing on your tongue. You wondered why the sugar tasted bitter, why your eyes were suddenly pricking with hot tears and when the boy asked if you were okay, a grin slipping from his lips, you lied and told him that you still felt sick.

You turned to Robin, a fake smile pulling at your lips as you tried to act casual, as if her words weren’t kickstarting a feeling in your chest that you had been trying so hard to ignore for the last five years.

You furrowed your brow, turned to the cart that was still full of videos no thanks to your friend, and picked up another pile. You stacked them until they reached your chin, until they gave you a reason to walk to the other side of the stands and take a deep breath.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you lied, and it felt heavy on your tongue, tasting too sweet and sinful. Because of course you had. “It’s not something that’s crossed my mind.”

Robin saw right through you and you could tell by the way her brows rose and she hid her smile behind a press of her lips.

“Sure,” she said, voice too light. “Humour me then. What do you think would happen if you did let it cross your mind?”

You stared at her, mouth agape, because what the fuck was the girl getting at.

She grabbed some of the videos you were holding, The Exorcist close to slipping from its slot underneath your chin and she started stacking them beside you, completely out of alphabetical order, but that was a problem for another day.

“Just listen,” she said and you hated how she sounded excited. “What do you think would happen if you asked Steve to kiss you?”

She dropped a box, cursing when the corner of it hit her toe but she bounced back up, bright eyes still brimming with all the thoughts that were swirling round her head at once.

“Cause you know he would, right? Like the poor guy can’t say no to you, he’s never been able to.”

You made a sound of protest, heart hammering in your chest because Steve was still right there, fingers running though his hair, pen between his lips and so completely fucking oblivious.

But Robin suddenly stopped and spun to face you. She wrapped a hand around your wrist, soft and warm and you could tell she was choosing her words carefully before she said them, a sure fire way to tell that the girl was being serious.

“There’s a reason that none of his girlfriends have stuck around, babe,” Robin murmured, sincerity lacing every word. “It’s ‘cause he always picks you, every time.”

—————

It had been a week since Robin had cornered you at work, whispering to you about Steve and kissing and god, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You thought about it when he gave you a ride home after work, sun setting, the day turning pink and casting indigo shadows over his face, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth.

You thought about it when he pushed himself into you during Saturday morning shifts, his body lazy as he leant against you, his chest to your back and his head on your shoulder. It felt softer and intimate than when he’d done it before, your mind running wild with the idea that if you turned around and kissed him, right there in the middle of Family Video, he might kiss you back.

You thought about it when you were lying by his pool, his parents gone, the kids and Dustin’s new friend Eddie starting water fights on the lawn. You’d watch the way Steve watched you, jealous eyes and lips pouted when Eddie soaked you with a water balloon, skin damp, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You watched how he softened and lit up again, your attention on him when you shook your wet hair over his bare chest and you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed the movements you made when you bent to slide your shorts back up your legs.

So maybe it was for those reasons that you turned to him one Friday night, when it was just the two of you out in his backyard, and asked him why he’d never kissed you.

It could’ve been the joint you’d been sharing making you feel braver, or maybe the shadows that you were hiding in, the spaces that the pool lights didn’t quite reach.

Maybe it was the way Steve had been looking at you each time you took the joint from his lips and put it between your own. Hair a little messy, eyes hooded, jaw slack.

Maybe it was because of all of it. Maybe it was because you were nineteen and growing impatient. Maybe it was sixteen years of build up. Of wondering, wanting, waiting.

The air smelled the same way it did when you were eight, chlorine and cedar from the trees, that afternoon's sunscreen mixing with weed and smoke. Your tongue was stained red from the popsicle you’d had, Steve’s blue and there were new freckles on both of your faces, noses a little pink from lying out in the sun all day.

And when the afternoon faded into evening and the sky was lilac, Steve produced a joint with a grin, a wiggle of his brows and suddenly you were lying on the deck together, the pool filter trickling in the background and laughing soft as you blew smoke into the night.

There was a buzz of insects from the forest that stood behind the house, the faint hum of someone’s music that played from a couple of yards over and you felt the warmth radiate from the boy from where he lay beside you.

Your bare feet pointed to opposite ends of the pool, one of yours dipped into the water and your heads were touching, cheek to cheek. If you turned to look at him, you knew your lips could slip over his easily and the thought of it made your body fizz.

He had just plucked the joint from your mouth, thumb grazing clumsy over your top lip, fitting pretty into the dip of your Cupid’s bow when you tilted your head, cheek resting on the patio, the slabs still warm from the afternoon sun.

“Hey, Harrington,” you sounded quiet and lazy, like you didn’t have a care in the world. But god, your heart was in your throat, pulsing like a warning. “You ever thought ‘bout kissing me?”

If Steve was shocked, he didn’t show it, not really. His eyes widened slightly, joint hanging slack from his lips and he stubbed it out on the concrete before swallowing, hard.

He turned to you, noses almost brushing and you watched the way his gaze settled on your lips.

“Why d’you ask?” His voice was a hush, warm and rough.

You shrugged, boldness faltering because he hadn’t answered your question but holy shit, he was still looking at your mouth, the way your tongue snuck out to wet your bottom lip before you spoke.

“Just something Robin said,” you told him, nose scrunched.

Your words made his lips part, nodding in understanding because of course Robin was involved and the girl had been at him too, hounding him in the stockroom at work, calling him out on his obvious crush on your over old, dusty videos.

But all the boy could say was, “oh.”

And then there was silence, for a second, maybe two. It felt like minutes, like an hour, like the sky was suddenly crashing down on you, as if lavender clouds and the stars were going to bury you were you lay but then-

“I have,” Steve said, quietly sure. You looked over at him as he blew out a breath, “course I’ve thought about it. ‘Bout kissing you.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to keep silent, his admission washing over you like a tsunami sized wave, one that you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep your head above.

You sat up suddenly, shocking Steve and he leaned up onto his elbows with wide eyes, watching as you turned to face him, legs crossed and knees knocking into his thighs.

“Why haven’t we?” You asked, bemusement colouring your tone and you couldn’t help but press your hand to his where it lay on the deck. Your fingers brushed over his, a new kind of touch. “Why haven’t we ever kissed?”

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, if it was rattling against your ribs as loud as it seemed to be. You held your breath as Steve sat up too, mirroring your pose and crossing his legs until you were knee to knee and looking like a couple of innocent kids again.

He shrugged, blowing out another breath and he tugged a hand through the front of his hair, making it stand on end. He looked a little wild, like you short circuited him, like you were half way to ruining him.

The boy’s voice cracked a little when he tried to answer and you wondered if this was okay, if you should’ve asked but then Steve was speaking, his thumb drawing absentminded circles over your bare knee.

“I’m not really sure,” he said and he spoke soft and quiet, like he was telling you a secret. “I suppose I just didn’t wanna lose my best friend.”

It was the answer you expected. Best friend first, the prospect of a girl to kiss in the background of his mind. You should’ve been happy, you should’ve felt loved, but the idea of never having Steve in the way you realised you wanted him was becoming more crushing by the day.

“Or maybe,” he suddenly continued, “I guess… I guess I didn’t realise I was allowed to.”

Your lips parted at that, a small bomb dropped in the middle of the Harrington’s backyard. You waited for the pool to empty, for the small wave to hit your back, for the sky to light up but nothing came and Steve was watching you, waiting.

“You’re allowed to,” you whispered and oh my god, you didn’t feel high enough for this, but you continued, tummy dropping and skin electric. “You’ve always been allowed to.”

You heard Steve’s breath hitch and it only felt natural when his hand came up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressed to the spot behind your ear and god, he was leaning in and so were you.

“I just don’t know if we should,” he was telling you but he was still moving into you and his hand never fell away from your face.

“It’s just a kiss,” you told him, voice shot, lips falling apart and you could smell his aftershave, the leftover chlorine that stuck to his skin and he was summer, he was cherry and smoke and god, he was forbidden, he was yours. “Friends can kiss, doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It’s really just curiosity, right?”

His nose was bumping against yours, both of your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of the other's breath falling across your lips and you wondered if he’d taste like his popsicle, blue raspberry, sugar and fizz.

You nodded at his question, too gone to speak and the movement made your top lip brush against his. Sparks against your skin, electric, dangerous and it made you sigh.

“Steve?” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut like you were seven again and making a wish beside your birthday cake, candles making your skin glow.

He hummed, thumb still pushing against that spot on your neck, “yeah sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

And fuck, maybe Robin was right because the boy didn’t say no. In fact, Steve didn’t say anything, he just moved into you until your nose was pressed into his cheek and his lips were plush against yours and oh my god you were kissing your best friend.

He still tasted like raspberry, like you thought he would. Like summer and promises and pool days and a little smoke and Steve.

It was a slow push of his lips to your own, mouths slanting over each other’s, soft and languid like you both knew this was your only chance. You thought you heard him moan, a soft, low noise that made your chest hurt and when the kiss lingered, you brought your hands to his cheeks, fingers splayed over his jaw as you tugged him a little closer, greedy.

And when his tongue licked at the curve of your bottom lip, his hand travelled to tilt at your chin, asking you to open for him, you did, no questions asked. You sighed, blissed out, when his tongue slid over yours, a hand falling to fist in his t-shirt, soft cotton crumpled in your hand because you felt like you were going to float away.

Then Steve was pulling back, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours and eyes still slammed shut as he gave you another secret, pressed to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the curve of your neck.

“I always thought you were gonna be my first kiss,” he said it like a confession, like something holy. “M’sorry you weren’t.”

And then he was back on you, lips melted between your own and you knew that the pretty noises that you pulled from him would play like a record in your dreams for months on end. Steve was grasping at your hip, the material of your dress bunched under his hand, making the cotton hitch higher up your thighs.

You were in his lap, wide hands on your sides, guiding you as you kissed him, lovesick, eyes closed, body buzzing and you fell across his knees, thighs shifting apart to cage him underneath you and oh my god.

Fuck.

You sat a little higher than him, knees planted on the deck and his head was tilted back to kiss you as you crowded him. One hand was on your jaw, thumb rubbing against your cheek as he kissed you deeper now, a little dirty and when he pulled a small moan from you, his hand clasped at the back of your thigh, skin on skin.

You could feel him hard underneath you and it made your head feel fuzzy, your body pleading with you to drag yourself along the length of him, hips rolling, chest heaving.

When you pulled back, panting, the reflections of the pool were bouncing off your faces, ripples of light dancing across the boy's features, hitting his eyes and turning them caramel. You felt golden when he touched you, skin lit up, the air around you both crackling like a storm was coming.

Maybe it was still the weed, maybe it was a new found courage, maybe it was just teenage hormones and the thought of seeing each other naked for the first time since you were both four, but when Steve asked if he could take you inside, you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It felt different in his bedroom when you both tumbled in, colliding with the dresser as you kissed each other like you meant it, like you’d never do it again. The room felt smaller, darker, softer, more intimate than it had ever been for you and suddenly you felt like a girl at the end of date.

Steve touched you like you were more than just his best friend and it made your stomach roll, your thighs rub together and you couldn’t quite get over the way his hand spanned the width of your cheek, fingertips grazing your hairline whilst his thumb managed to pull at your bottom lip, eager for more of you.

It all got a little wild after that, loose change and bottles of aftershave cologne clattering off of the drawers, falling to the floor as Steve picked you up and slammed you on top of it, legs spreading for him to fit in between. Hands roamed up your thighs, pushing at the soft skin there until he hitched a knee up and over his hip, pressing himself into you.

Your dress came off first, his shirt following, a mix of colours on the carpet and he pressed his lips to the skin he uncovered, mouth over lavender lace and delicate straps.

It felt desperate, you felt desperate. And when he sucked a bruise into the column of your throat, you keened, high and needy. It made the boy groan, mouth vibrating against your chest as he kissed over the lace triangles covering you, his gaze flicking up to watch you nod at him before he was pushing one aside, tongue smoothing over a nipple.

It made you grab at his hair, fingers delving deep, tugging in appreciation and you were prepared for the sound it pulled from him, low in the back of his throat and it made his eyes flutter shut.

“Sweetheart,” Steve huffed out, hands skimming up and down your sides as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep that up.”

He sounded wild, unravelled and sharp around the edges. It made you feel full of power, pretty lips and lace and soft skin, and you pressed the softest kiss to Steve’s mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants and before you could ask, you were being manhandled again, legs around his waist and his hands on your ass.

He sat you both on the bed like that, spread out pretty on top of him, knees pushed into the mattress as you pulled at his belt, holding yourself up as he shuffled out of his jeans. He sucked tiny bruises on your collar bones as your bra was peeled off, nothing but your underwear separating you both and you felt his hands drag down your back, a touch that was so affectionate and soft that it took your breath away.

Then night seemed slower after that, like time paused for you both, just for you to remember every touch. Like the world stopped spinning on its axis just for you two, just so you would both remember the way the other felt, ‘cause fuck, you had a feeling this wouldn’t happen again.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Steve gasped, lips barely leaving yours as pushed and pulled at your hips, helping you rock over him, body rolling across his lap. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

But you were ready to climb him, your hands grabbing at his hair to tug him back to you, kisses swallowing his words and telling the boy that you wanted exactly the opposite.

It was strange how natural it felt, to tug the length of him out of his boxers, the feel of him hot and hard in your hand. You shuffled in Steve’s lap as he palmed you over the lace of your underwear, breath uneven. It didn’t take long for him to tug them down your legs as he slid on a condom, your foot kicking purple lace to his bedroom floor and you suddenly felt like you were underwater; body moving lazy and slow as you lifted yourself onto your knees, Steve’s hands strong and reassuring as you took him in your hand and sunk down onto him.

Neither of you moved, bodies tangled and still as you fit perfectly in his lap, arms wrapped around each other as you panted heavy into parted lips. Steve whispered your name, like a prayer, soft and broken before he pushed his lips to yours, head tilted into you so he could catch your lips deep and slow.

He grunted in surprise when you tightened around him, body clenching on his at the touch of his tongue across your bottom lip and you whimpered, hips beginning to wiggle. This was more than you’d felt before, more than wandering hands in back seats, more than a quick and fast hook-up in a party bathroom, more than fingers under skirts in your bedroom when your parents were asleep across the hall.

“Can I move?” You ask, quiet, your hands grappling desperately at Steve’s shoulders palming over the muscles there. “I need to move, Steve, please.” If you were begging, you didn’t care, because you felt so full, so tight around him and you couldn’t help but admire the way the boy looked underneath you.

But Steve didn’t have you waiting long, any teasing long forgotten about ‘cause he felt like he was wound too tight and you felt like fucking heaven around him. You didn’t know your eyes were wet until his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, breath stuttering and you both gasped and swore when you lifted yourself up, just to rock yourself back down.

He moaned your name so prettily, lips glossy from your kisses and his eyes were hooded, gaze set on you, jaw slack, hands roaming across the expanse of your back as he held you to him.

You moved over him with purpose, Steve answering with low groans and he pulled soft whimpers from you, your hand catching his face so you could look at him, gazes heavy and hot, pinned to each other. Your thumb found the curve of his bottom lip, tugging a little and Steve moaned when the pad of it slid over the edge of his teeth. “Steve,” you gasped, hips moving messy and the boy grabbed at your ass, helping you ride him a little faster.

“That’s it, sweetheart, tell me, tell me what you want and I’ll give you it,” he pressed his lips to yours as he spoke, words slipping over your lips, your tongue and god, they tasted sweet. “I’ll give you anything.”

“More,” was all you could manage, breath hitching, eyes slamming shut ‘cause Steve’s hand dropped between you both, skin slick and he pressed his thumb over your clit; quick, hot circles that made stars flash behind your eyelids. “Close?” Steve asked, voice rough and you nodded, moving a little wilder over him, the boy reciprocated, hands holding your hips still so he could thrust up hard into you until you were biting down on the muscle on his shoulder, thighs tensing, eyes tearing up.

Steve whispered your name when he came, arms tight around you, head buried in the crook of your neck, eyes squeezed shut, hoping and praying that he’d always remember the way you felt around him.

He kissed you one last time that night, bodies still naked and stretched out between his sheets and you didn’t say anything to each other as you caught your breaths, eyes wide on each other. There was a part of you that wished you could have the excuse of alcohol, too messy after some party to remember. You couldn’t blame the weed either, the half smoked joint still stubbed out in the backyard, hardly enough to do anything than let you both share a buzz.

In the morning, you pulled on your clothes, wrinkled on Steve’s bedroom floor, still smelling of smoke and the boy. You tiptoed around his room, searching for your underwear, your shoes, all while the boy lay on his bed, face down, hair mussed and the white sheets barely covering his waist.

You wish you had it in you to let yourself drop back down into bed with, to have the courage to press a kiss to the freckle on his right shoulder, smooth a soft hand down his spine. But the sun was coming in through the window and your lips were still swollen from your best friend’s kisses and everything was starting to taste like a mistake.

You didn’t know it, but Steve was awake as you left, eyes open and face pressed into the pillow that still smelled like your shampoo, heart beating wild in his chest but he didn’t move, didn’t call out to stop you. And well, that was that.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue.

You didn’t talk about it.

A week passed and neither did Steve and before you knew it, you were a month down the line, the feel of your best friend's lips on your skin feeling like a fever dream and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to forget the feel of him moving against you, inside you.

It hurt to look at him, for a while. It got worse before it got better, stilted conversations and awkward eye contact, the taste of regret in both of your tongues and all the things you wanted to say to each other were left unsaid.

But it was fine.

Steve asked you round for a movie one Friday, videos stacked on the coffee table in his living room, your favourite sweater of his lying out on the arm of the sofa along with red vines and the good kinda popcorn.

You didn’t push yourself into his side like you normally would and you didn’t know if that disappointed him or not, but when he dropped you off home later that night, the sky was a dark, rosy pink, the lingering smell of rain in the air and he smacked a messy kiss to your cheek before you climbed out of his car.

It was fine. Until it wasn’t.

Steve started dating again, one girl, two girls, three girls. Lucy on Saturday, Matthew David’s cousin Paula the next Friday, Cindy from last year's cheer squad the week after.

You didn’t ask about it and he didn’t tell you, just poking an affectionate finger to the apple of your cheek when he told you he’d see you the next day. You were his best friend, again, still, only.

It was fine until one Friday shift, when you disappeared into the back room a little earlier than the store closed. You came back out in a new dress, short and pretty, with blush on your cheeks and a gloss on your lips. Robin had wolf whistled, Steve had frowned.

“Where are you going?”

His tone of voice cut you in half, accusatory and a little shocked. Steve leaned over the counter, a finger picking delicately at a lock of hair that you’d spent too long trying to get to sit nicely.

“A date,” you told him, voice soft, gaze lowered as you tried to cram lip gloss tubes and perfume bottles into your bag.

“With who?” Was the instantaneous response, that same tone of voice.

You saw Robin’s gaze flitting between the pair of you, not privy to the events that took place a month prior, but not for a lack of trying. The girl was perfectly aware that something happened. She just didn’t know what and neither your or Steve had told her anything.

“Nate Owens,” you told him and god, why was it so hard to meet his eye? “You know, he was on the team with you.”

Steve pulled his brows together, bewildered at your answer. “Yeah, I know him, why the fuck are you going on a date with Owens?”

You heard Robin’s sharp intake of breath and she watched as you squinted at the boy, annoyance on your features. Knowing what was to come, she grabbed the last of the returns and made her way to the other side of the empty store, leaving you two alone.

“What?” You huffed out, exasperated already. Your stomach was tumbling and you hated the way you didn’t know why. Maybe it was first date jitters, maybe it was the way Steve was looking at you, maybe it was because you knew you had absolutely no interest in dating anyone that wasn’t your bet fucking friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve grappled for something to say, stuttering over excuses until he tutted and grabbed the stapler, carelessly turning it over in his hands as he told you, “you’ve got nothing in common with him, like, at all.”

You scoffed, pulling at the hem of your dress and smoothing out imaginary creases, you were annoyed, something burning and twisting inside of you. “Sure Harrington, I forgot you choose all your dates based on compatibility and shared goals for the future.”

“He’s a douchebag,” Steve tried again, “he’s only after one thing.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I am too,” you said loftily and you didn’t look for Steve’s reaction, you didn’t want to. You moved from behind the counter, leaving a cloud of perfume in your wake and headed for the door. “Robs, I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

Before the girl could answer, Steve was tailing you, moving across the store with that stupid stapler still in his hand and he called out your name, making you stop and turn.

“He’s just gonna hurt you,” the boy explained and you hated how his voice had turned a little softer. “You can do so much better than him.”

“Yeah?” You turned fully, chin raised and shoulders set as you locked eyes with Steve. “Who should I date then, Steve? Who’s good enough?”

The air felt electric, fully charged as the boy stared back, lips parting, chest barely moving as if he was holding his breath. If Robin was still there, you didn’t know, your mind only registering the way the boy was still silent in front of you.

“That’s what I thought,” you eventually muttered, hot tears threatening to prick at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t wait sixteen years to start taking an interest in my love life Harrington, I’ve got by just fine without your advice.”

You’d opened the door by the time Steve replied, voice hot and clipped with anger and something else, a tone you’d never heard him use with you before. “Yeah, well, don’t come fucking crying to me when he turns out to be a dick.”

You laughed humorlessly, your back turned to him as you faced the night outside, the cool air nipping at the heat on your cheeks. You wanted to go home, to chance a look at Robin and silently ask her to clamber into bed with you, if she’d let you cry onto her shoulder as you ate pizza and watched reruns of Charlie’s Angels.

There was also a part of you that wanted to turn to Steve, glassy eyed and confused, to ask why it suddenly felt like you were fighting for the first time since middle school.

But you didn’t.

You walked out into the night and let the door slam shut behind you.

If you’d hung around, you would’ve heard Robin slam down the copy of Stand By Me that she was holding, eyes a little angry and disappointed as she looked at the boy and said: “You’re a fucking idiot.”

‘Yeah,’ Steve thought, ‘he knew he was.’

----------

You hated that Steve was right, you hated that Nate Owens was a pig, you hated that he did nothing but look at your chest over the dinner table, you hated that he tried to lean in for a kiss the minute you both got back into his car, you hated that he got pissy with you when you didn’t let him push his hand up your dress, you hated that he told you to put out or get out.

You hated that he left you on the side of the road, a little out of town, at a restaurant that you didn’t really know, dinner paid for with his daddy’s money.

You hated that when you finally found a payphone at the side of a dark gas station, you punched in Steve’s number. You hated that you started to cry when you heard his voice, you hated that he told you was coming to get you.

Steve found you easily despite your awful directions, and when he asked if you were okay, voice quiet and gentle, you choked out a little sob, feeling pathetic and Steve told you to stay put, that he would be there as fast as he could.

He definitely broke some laws to get to you, flashing through amber lights faster than he was supposed to and when he pulled into the station only twenty minutes later, his heart ached at the way you leaned against the brick wall, half in shadows with your arms wrapped around you, the slight wind picking at the hem of you dress, lifting it from you thighs.

Steve got out of the car before you could move, pushing yourself off of the wall and he hated that your eyes were glassy, that you seemed embarrassed. You let him tug one of his sweatshirts over your head, one he specifically grabbed for you before rushing out of his door, ‘cause he watched you leave work without a jacket and if he’d been in a better mood when you were going on your date - if you’d have been going on a date with him - he would’ve teased you about being cold later.

Steve opened the passenger door, waiting for you to fold yourself into the front of his car and when he got back in, the only light coming from the old neon sign that was flashing red, telling customers that the store was open.

He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white and he glanced at you, expression almost unreadable.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, and it was true. You’d thrown an elbow into the Nate’s chest when he tried to push you too far, too fast, the sharp point of your arm catching him just below his throat and he’d turned on you, telling you to get the fuck out. “The only thing hurt is my pride, but I guess that’s on me, huh?”

Steve sighed at that, turning fully in his seat so he could face you, his hand coming up to press into your cheek, his thumb running gently under your eye, catching the tears there before they fell.

“Sweetheart-” Steve started, but you were overwhelmingly emotional, everything from the night and Nate and Steve suddenly becoming too much and god, you just wanted to yell with it.

“What? Is this the part where you say I told you so?” You tried to sound biting, but the words hitched in your throat, fresh tears springing to your eyes. “Why’re you even here Steve?”

You knew why.

“Cause you asked me,” he answered, simply and that was all there was to it, wasn’t there? “And I’m not gonna tell you shit, I’m… I’m sorry I acted like that early, I dunno what was wrong with me.”

You wanted to press further, you wanted to ask him if he truly didn’t know the reason he acted like an asshole. You wanted to ask if he was jealous, if he wanted you the way you wanted him, if he missed you, if he thought about you when he went on all these dates, if he wanted to kiss you again, if he thought about it all the time, the same way that you did.

But Steve was still talking, fingers slipping from your face to pick at a stand of hair, playing with the end of it absentmindedly. The car felt too small, too warm and too dark, and you were sure that the last time you were both this close, you’d been in Steve's bed, wrapped around him as he made you come.

“He didn’t deserve even an hour of your time,” he told you, brows knitted together in a frown. “And you deserve better than Nate fucking Owens, you’re too good for him,” he repeated his statement from earlier and it made you chest ache, your tummy tumble over because god, you wanted to be brave.

“Who’s good enough then, Steve?” You breathed it out, voice almost a whisper because you were so close to losing it, to grabbing the boy by his face and telling him how you felt, how’d fallen in love with him fuck knows how many years ago and you’d only recently let yourself believe it.

He started, wide eyed, lips parted and waiting, the same reaction he’d had back at Family Video. But you didn’t walk away this time, you let out a huff of laughter, no humour in it as you sat back in the seat and started out of the windscreen. The gas station was deserted, the night creeping into a new day, the clock ticking closer to midnight and the light was still flickering.

It painted you both crimson, eyes brighter than they should’ve been, cheeks rosy. You pushed a foot to the dash, dress slipping up your thigh and gathering in the crease of your leg, showing off way too much skin but you didn’t care.

“I grew up with all the other guys in our grade knowing that I was Steve Harrington’s best friend,” you told him, voice hushed and cracking, “all of them too scared to touch me ‘cause your stupid ten year old ass always threatened to beat them up.”

He was still staring, lip twitching as if he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or not because it was true. But then he watched a tear slip down your cheek and it caught the light, a flash of ruby before it got caught on your top lip and you licked it away.

“Then in high school, I was a challenge, ‘cause I was still Steve Harrington’s best fucking friend. Boy’s would either be terrified to talk to me or treat me like the best prize they could win. They thought I was off limits, some thought I was your girlfriend and god, Steve, fuck…”

You swallowed, hard, breath catching in your chest and the car was so silent, the boy watching, listening.

“I never thought that I wanted that, to be anything more than your friend. I didn’t,” you tried to sound convincing, but even to your own ears, your protests sounded weak. “But then you kissed me.”

You looked at him from under your lashes, hands twisted nervously in your lap, his sweater fisted between your fingers and you hated the way it smelled like him, like mint and cedar and smoke and suddenly, it was all too much.

“I know I asked you to,” you blurted out, eyes brimming with tears again, spilling over the line of your lashes and suddenly, you didn’t care about what you said anymore. “But fuck! Robin said that you never say no to me, that you’d do anything for me and god, I just wanted it once, I didn’t know it would go that far that night… I don’t regret it,” you rambled, words falling clumsily over the next and you chanced a look at him, his eyes full of shock but there was a softness behind it, familiar and fond. “I don’t regret it at all, I just-”

You sucked in a breath, let your head fall back onto the rest and let your eyes fall closed before you admitted another secret.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

You kept your eyes closed as you kept talking, the words, the confessions, falling so much easier now that you’d started. The dark made you feel a little bolder, the silence of the boy encouraging you to just keep spilling your heart out, no interruptions.

“I thought that maybe you would feel the same, that you’d say something first, ‘cause you’ve always been braver but then you started dating that girl, then the other one. And maybe I was just stupid, maybe I was wrong,” you sighed, gazing to the side to catch Steve’s eye, a warmth blooming over your entire body, embarrassment, adrenaline and the feeling that you were throwing yourself off a cliff surging over you. “But there was a part of me that thought you’d maybe figure out you loved me too.”

You didn’t know what you expected, really. There was such a large part of you that still believed you were only going to ever be friends, that if Steve wanted more, he would've told you by now. That part told you you were imagining things, that sleeping together was nothing more than an experiment, a product of being high and bored with your best friend. It told you to ignore the way you thought he looked at you, the way that sometimes, you were so sure his touch lingered for longer than it needed to.

But then there was a voice in the back of your head, a shit, it sounded a little like Robin’s and it told you that the boy before you would do anything for you, anything you asked. And wasn’t that why he was here now? It told you that friends didn’t look at each other like that, that friends didn’t have to untangle themselves from each other's arms each morning, that friends didn’t kiss like you had both done.

Steve whispered your name then, a hand reaching out to catch yours.

“You know I love you,” he whispered, voice a little shocked, a little awed. He sounded broken too, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, like he was terrified of saying the wrong thing. “I’ve always loved you, you’re my best friend.”

Your heart fell.

“I- I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve said and he was rambling, falling over his words as his eyes searched your face for something he wasn’t going to find. The softness you’d held in your features was gone. “Babe, you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you-”

“Don’t call me that,” you choked out, your heart racing, your stomach twisting. You thought you might be sick. “Fuck, shit, take me home.”

You pulled your hand away from where the boy held it, your demand sounding harsh and too loud in the quiet of the car. You couldn’t look at him. The red light was still flashing, flickering and it suddenly felt like it was splitting your head in two, like it was pulsing to the same beat as your heart.

Steve said your name again, pleading, his hand on your arm, silently begging you to turn, to look at him.

“Can you let me explain? Please, god, I didn’t mean it like that, you have to understand-”

“Take me home, Steve, please.”

But he ignored you, tugging the keys out of the ignition and leaning forward, a hand tilting at your chin to try and a catch your gaze but your cheeks felt too hot and the burn at your eyes told you that you were going to start crying again and all you could think about was the list of boys who were too scared to make you theirs, too happy with a quick fuck in the back of their shitty cars and you never used to care because you were only ever happy with one boy.

You knew you should’ve let him talk, that you owed him his chance to speak but the burning sensation of embarrassment and rejection was creeping up your spine like poison and you hated it, you couldn’t stand it.

You panicked.

You pulled at the door handle, fingers clumsy as you pushed the door open, clambering out with Steve’s sweater still swamping your frame and you could hear the boy calling your name even after you slammed the door shut.

You made a start for the alleyway behind the gas station, somewhere the car couldn’t follow and by the time you made it a few streets over, you realised Steve wasn’t coming for you anyway.

You got halfway home before the rain started falling, a pathetic spit that misted into the air and soaked you through. It made your hair stick to your cheeks, Steve’s sweater damp and hanging heavy on your body and by the time you reached home, it didn’t smell like him anymore.

Good, you thought.

Because when you were eight years old, Steve Harrington was the first big to tell you he loved you and then he promised you three things:

One, he’d always be your best friend. Two, he’d always protect you from everything bad and scary. And three, he’d never break your heart.

It took almost twelve years, but shit, the boy finally broke one of them.

Take me out, and take me home.

It took Steve twelve years to break his promise to you, but only four days to fix it.

Which was impressive really, when he spent the first three days agonising over what to say to you. You’d been avoiding him like the plague, worse than the plague, quite frankly.

He expected you at work the next day, chest sore from holding his breath as he watched the door, eyes tired from staying up all night.

He’d stayed in that gas station parking lot for too long after you’d left, eyes wide as he watched you leave, disappearing behind the alleyway almost instantly.

Steve had slammed his hands on the dash, overwhelmed with everything you’d said, admitted to him, with glassy eyes and he fucking hated how he’d made your bottom lip tremble, your breath hitch and stutter as you tried not to cry.

He’d panicked.

And you’d left.

He’d driven home slowly, trying to catch sight of you on the sidewalks that led home, rolling down the streets that looked unfamiliar to see if you were there, trying to find shortcuts. When the rain had started, he’d cursed, no sight of you anywhere and by the time he’d pulled up outside your house, he was relieved to see your bedroom light on, a sign you’d made it home safely.

He wanted to knock on the door, to climb into your bedroom window and try to make you smile again, to stop you crying because he couldn’t fucking stand it when you cried, especially because of him.

But the window was shut, a rare sight and he knew it was a hint, a very obvious clue for him to stay the fuck away. He watched your light flicker off, the house bathed in darkness and he’d sat, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes and cursing himself.

He should’ve told you, he shouldn’t have been so fucking scared.

You didn’t show up at work and when he asked Robin if she’d heard from you, the girl had told him that you were sick, had called in early and spoke to Keith.

“She’s put in a line for the entire week, actually, said it’s a bad bug,” Robin had told him knowingly. “Whatever you’ve done, Harrington, I suggest you fix it.”

Steve didn’t ask how Robin knew, didn’t press her for any more details, ‘cause he knew her too well, knew she wouldn’t tell him shit so he just slammed a video he was supposed to be rewinding on the desk, and sighed, heavy and tired.

“I know.”

You didn’t answer his calls. With your parents visiting family out of town, there was no one in the house but you and you made a point of refusing to pick up the phone at all.

Robin would visit, not bothering to knock as she slipped into your house, huffing and humming to herself as she climbed your stairs, barging into your room unannounced.

She set a careful gaze on you, a lump underneath the duvet, as she dumped your favourite snacks at the foot of your bed.

“You’re not sick, are you?” You hated how it didn’t even sound like a question, just an accusation. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

And you did, you told her everything from the joint, to your kiss, the entire night. You told her about Nate, about your confession, about the way Steve looked at you when you told him that you thought he loved you too.

Robin listened, curled up by your pillows beside you, your head on her shoulder and her cheek resting on yours, a bag of Reece’s Pieces between you both.

“I know that this probably isn’t what you wanna hear right now,” the girl began, patting your hand with her own, “you know, with you being all heart broken and what not.”

You huffed.

“But I don’t believe for a second that Steve doesn’t love you, that he isn’t in love with you.”

“Robin, please,” you groaned, shoving your face into her arm, because she was right, you didn’t wanna hear it. You’d spent too long trying to convince yourself that she was right, Steve was in love with you, only to blurt out your feelings for him and have him look at you, sheer panic on his face, in return.

She sighed, knowing it was useless trying to make you see her side of things, so she pushed her nose to your temple, blew a raspberry to the side of your head and stole another Reece’s Piece.

“Have you spoken to him?” She asked, voice unusually quiet.

You shook your head.

“Have you let him try?” The girl said knowingly.

You shook your head again.

Another huff, a somewhat affectionate butt of her head to yours and then she turned, shuffling against the pillows until you were face to face.

“He’s really broken up about this,” she told you and her words made you wanna cry again. “You need to let him explain.”

You sniffed, eyes watering and despite the ache that still lived in your chest, you nodded.

“‘Cause I don’t think you said things right, y’know?” Robin squinted at you, trying to make sense of what you’d told her Steve had said that night. “He’s a guy, shit, he’s Steve. Communication isn’t his strong point.”

“I don’t know what’s more clearer than ‘you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you’. Idiot or not, he made it pretty obvious that we’re never gonna be anything more.”

The movie that you had both hardly been watching was over, the screen fading to black and the credits rolling. A love song started to play, soppy and too cheery and you grunted, searching for the remote between the sheets before angrily pressing the off button. Silence fell over you and Robin snorted, flinging herself over your lap and looking up at you with a small smile.

She pressed a finger to the tip of your nose and you scowled.

“Ever think that maybe he’s just scared?”

Your frown deepened and you stared down at your friend, lips parted at the absurdity of her question.

“What?” You scoffed. “I’ve watched him take down a demogorgon with a baseball bat, Robin, the boy isn’t scared of much anymore-”

“He also got his heart broken by the first girl he told he loved,” Robin interrupted. “He dates girls that he isn’t really interested in, that are the complete opposite of you. His folks are never around, he’s made his own family out of his friends.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly feeling thick, your chest tight.

“You're probably the most constant thing in his life, y’know,” she mused, voice unbearably soft. The girl brought a hand up to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, the gesture fond. “He’s always had you, maybe he’s just scared to fuck things up and lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You didn't want to. ‘Cause that stupid burn was scratching at your eyes again, at the back of your throat and you were so done with crying, you were so over pushing your face into your pillow to dry your face.

Robin sat up suddenly, stretching and bending down to pull on her shoes. She popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth before smacking a kiss to your cheek and you were still silent, bundled up between pillows and blankets in bed.

“Talk to him, babe,” she told you, heading for the door without any other goodbye, “ I’m sure he’s got a lot to say.”

Fuck.

You picked and put down your phone six times before you decided to pull on your shoes and start walking. It didn’t take long to walk from yours to the Harrington’s, but you moved at a snail's pace, playing tightrope along the edge of the sidewalk before you stopped at the corner of Steve’s street, heart suddenly ready to burst from your chest. The sun started to set as you waited, hesitating. The sky turned from blue to lilac, tangerine and peach and the air became still.

You walked up his front path, hand raised, ready to knock.

It was a sparkler between your ribs kinda feeling, jump off a cliff kind of feeling, take a shot of tequila kind of feeling, risk fucking everything kind of feeling.

You’d walked away from the boy, his words stuck in his throat, your name dying on his lips and now you were ready to make it up to him. ‘Cause Steve was right, whatever either of you felt, you couldn’t lose him either.

The idea of rejection hurt, but not having Steve Harrington in your life hurt even more.

So you knocked.

Once, twice, three times, but no one answered. His car was in the drive, no parents to be seen and you took a deep breath before you plucked up the courage to open the door like you normally could.

Your footsteps echoed in the large hallway and the only sound you could hear came from the backyard, the tinny sound of music playing from outside. You found him there, spread out lazy by the edge of the pool, shirt off, one leg dipped into the water and his hair messy from swimming and the leftover heat from the day.

Shadows from the tree branches above fell over him, cutting through the gold light, streaks of pink and rose painting his skin pretty and you stood for just a second, watching through the open patio doors.

You tugged anxiously at the tagged hem of your shorts, the T-shirt you’d tucked into it suddenly feeling too constricting and you wanted to pull at the collar, you wanted to take off running again, because the sight of him hurt.

Before you could step out into the last patch of sun, Steve sat up, muscles flexing, pool water swirling and he froze, lips parted and staring at you.

It had only been four days since you’d last seen him, but it felt like far too much time had passed. You hadn’t gone that long without him in years, not since your parents told you that they were taking you to Utah to spend a summer with your grandparents. They’d cut the trip short by two weeks, aggravated and done with their fifteen year old daughter who didn’t shut up about how much she kissed her best friend.

Yearly trips to the lake house with the Harrington’s resumed the summer after that.

The boy whispered your name as if he’d scare you off and he sounded tired, sounded a little broken, just like Robin had said.

You lifted your hand in an awkward wave, stepping out into the yard and into the streak of sun that stretched across the patio. It warmed you, skin lit up, a golden glow slanting over both of you and even from where you stood, Steve’s eyes looked like honey.

“Hey.”

He stood, a hand raking through his still damp hair, making it even messier than usual and he mimicked you, hand raised, wingers waggling shyly, as if you hadn’t known each other for seventeen years.

“I was just coming to see you,” Steve admitted and he sounded as nervous as you felt. “I tried calling you. A lot.”

You nodded, feeling guilty and it burned at your chest. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, bare foot scuffling against the slabs and you wanted to crawl back into your bed, already feeling defeated. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this with Steve.

“I was gonna come round, you know,” Steve started again, gesturing to you, he looked lost, a little helpless. “Before now I mean… I just- I didn’t wanna upset you and you didn’t answer the phone so I just,” he shrugged, looking at the pool instead of you. “I didn’t wanna upset you any more.”

Almost silence; the trickle of the pool filter, the buzz of insects, the sway of the wind in the tree branches.

And then, “I’ve missed you,” Steve said, voice softer than before. “A lot.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding then, feet moving forward and you let yourself fall into one of the loungers, a space beside the pool that was so overly familiar.

You looked at the boy then, and god, he was the last cherry popsicle, he was sunshine, he was summer, he was full of promises and all your secrets, he was late nights and early mornings, first crushes and last kisses.

“I’ve missed you too,” you told him, voice hurting with sincerity.

It seemed to be all the boy needed to surge into action, because he relaxed at your admission, moving to the other lounger so he could sit across from you, bare knees almost bumping and he was leaning forward, invading your senses and he smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, mint and cedar and boy and summer and Steve.

“Why’d you leave?”

“I’m sorry,” you told him, eyes suddenly filling with tears because you were so embarrassed by it all. From your outburst to your storming away, leaving the boy sitting confused after he’d come to get you. “I just- I couldn’t sit there and handle the rejection, I never should have said anything, it was so stupid of me-”

You were stopped by his hand reaching out and covering your own, that familiar warmth of his fingers twisting between yours, a wide, rough palm, calloused on your own.

You looked at him, cheeks warm with your ramblings and he sighed, affection radiating from him as he gazed at you. He didn’t look confused this time, or panicked. Maybe a little bit scared but there was something else there and it shone a little brighter.

“Sweetheart, I never once tried to reject you,” Steve huffed out a soft laugh, “shit, I don’t think I could if my life depended on it.”

“What?” You froze, brows knitting together as you replayed the same conversation you both had in the car and you shook your head, confused. “You literally told me I was your best friend, Steve, that you couldn’t lose me.”

“And that’s true!” He burst out, “you just never let me finish!”

He sighed, using his free hand to scrub over his face and he took a deep breath before he faced you again.

“I panicked.” He said it so simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m so sorry babe but I fuckin’ panicked. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, you can’t even fucking imagine how long. I just didn’t wanna mess it up, I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk not having you.”

A sound of surprise left your lips at his words and you wanted to laugh at the irony of them, ‘cause yes, yes could imagine. But you kept quiet, letting the boy speak, making up for how you didn’t last time. You squeezed his hand instead, hoping it was reassuring enough.

You watched him lick his lips as he thought about his next words and your brows rose when he suddenly moved, kneeling in front of you and tapping at your knee, silently asking for you to spread your legs and let him in. You did, almost embarrassed by the lack of hesitation on your par but Steve moved into the space tour created for him, suddenly too close.

You exhaled a little slower, could count the new freckles on his nose, could see the small scar that cut through his brow, the one you gave him when you were seven and pillow fights got too boisterous.

He smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, a touch that brought comfort and he took another deep breath, readying himself for what he wanted to tell you.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” he said slowly, each word dropping like an atom bomb and you wondered if the earth was shaking. “Maybe longer, I was probably too stupid to work it out before then.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh and Steve grinned at the sound.

“It took me a little while,” he admitted, gaze lowering as if he were suddenly shy, “I didn’t know the difference between loving you and being in love with you. You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember.”

His fingers found the frayed hem of your shorts, twisting the strands between his fingers absentmindedly.

“I remember Nancy telling me that, uh,” he cleared his throat, words catching on his lips with nerves and hesitation, “she uh, told me that I didn’t love her like I thought I did. That I was in love with someone else.”

You inhaled sharply, remembering the girl telling you something similar that day on the bench. You’d been confused and a little irritated at her, defensive maybe, now that you looked back on it. You remembered the way she twisted her lips to hide a grin that she didn’t want to annoy you with, eyes all too knowing.

“I kinda realised then,” Steve nodded, eyes finding yours from under his lashes and god, you wondered when his face had moved so close to yours. “She was totally right, I just didn’t really wanna admit it.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice a little sad, ‘cause that had been years ago, and you felt overlooked, like so many missed opportunities had passed you both by and god, were the two of you really that stupid?

“I was stupid!” Steve burst out and you laughed, a little sad with watery eyes but shit, you were too. “So I kept dating random girls, anyone, really. Tried to take my mind off you, tried to forget about you in my bed.”

God, the memory made you burn.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered, still leaning into you, eyes closed like he was at confession. “Asking you out on a date seemed so ridiculous when I already know you better than anyone else.”

Your nose grazed Steve’s, and you let out a small sigh because as much as you were hurt by it all, you understood. You and Steve had seen every movie there was to see, had taken trips out of town to every concert, spent too many evenings at burger joints and ice cream parlours. You probably wouldn’t have guessed you were on a date with the boy unless he was in a tux and there was a chandelier above you.

And that seemed like a big ask.

“I would’ve loved to go on a date with you,” you said anyway, cause the idea of Steve pulling up outside your door with flowers in his hand gave you butterflies, tugging at your heart in a way that made you warm.

“Yeah?” He smiled, blinding and it only widened when you nodded.

He moved impossibly closer still, cheek to cheek so he could find your ear with his lips, hands moving to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles on the inside.

“I spent so long tryin’ to work up the courage to ask you to be my girlfriend,” his admission sounded like his biggest secret yet and you held your breath as he whispered it to you. “So long that years passed and we got older and suddenly the word ‘girlfriend’ didn’t seem enough.”

It was strange, but you knew what Steve meant. The word seemed too arbitrary, too normal, to describe the relationship you had with each other, how you felt about the other.

“I know,” you told him, voice just as soft and quiet as his. “I’d still like to be yours though.”

His grin was contagious, warmer than the sun that was starting to set, brighter than the rays on the pool and you swore the world was spinning a little faster in excitement, as if the planets and the moon were just as happy as you were.

“Yeah?” He asked, low and rough, nose pressing to your cheek, lips just brushing yours.

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed, waiting, wanting.

“Can we always be this close?” Steve asked, and you melted a little at the question, at that soft sincerity he always managed to give you.

“Yeah, god, please,” you answered and your voice sounded a little husky, a little pleading because you couldn’t imagine anything else. “Can you kiss me, now?”

The boy swore under his breath, the curse mixing with a huff of laughter and he smiled against you, mouth pressing happy to your cheek and you beamed at him, lashes tickling his skin, both of you warm against the other.

“Could never really figure out how to say no to you, y’know that?” He whispered, as if he was giving away a secret. Steve let his lips hover over yours, his hands wrapping around the small of your back, fingers playing with your belt loops, pulling you flush with him. Your hands smoothed over his bare chest and around his neck, skin hot with the sun, with being near you.

“Can I take you on a date?”

Something bloomed inside of you, wildflowers between your ribs, a new day of summer, a heatwave in your chest.

“If I say yes, will you kiss me?” you asked, a little bratty, a little teasing. You’d waited so long for both, you didn’t know what you wanted first.

But then Steve was pushing into you, lips pressing down onto your own, his hand along the underside of your jaw as he used his thumb to push a little under your chin, tilting you up to his mouth so he could lick into you, adoration pouring into you. You felt the way he loved you, like the way everyone else saw it. It still felt new, his lips on yours, new in an exciting way, new in a ‘god, I could get used to this’ way.

“Lemme take you on a date,” he said again, a smile on his lips, pressing it to yours and his voice was sunshine but rougher, even warmer and it made you smile that cheek hurting kinda smile.

You nodded.

“You still my best friend, Harrington?”

Steve pulled back to look at you, eyes shining. “That and more, sweetheart.” And when he said that, it felt enough. ‘More’.

“You still gonna protect me from everything bad and scary?” You nudged the tip of your nose to his, voice sweet.

“With everything I have in me,” he answered honestly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, catching your laughter. “Baseball bat and all.”

“Promise you won’t break my heart?” You asked, forehead to his, eyes full of every emotion you felt. Love, excitement, fear, hope, nervousness, adoration.

“Promise you won’t break mine?” Steve whispered back, a hand on your cheek, thumb grazing over your lip.

“I promise,” you told him, hands gripping right at his shoulders, running across the nape of his neck, diving into his hair.

“I promise,” he repeated, and shit, you believed him.

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

15K notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 2 months

Text

Heart shaped eyes

pairing: Draco Malfoy + reader word count: 945 warnings: none, but let me know if you find any

a/n: Here's a little short story to get me going after the two month break. I hope you guys like it.

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

“As much as I want him to, he doesn’t, Pansy.” I huff and I sit down on the bed to wear my high heels. She rolls her eyes, like she does everytime we talk about this subject. She retorts, “Why else would he ask you for the ball then?”

“Because he had no one else to ask.” I shoot back, and she jumps up from her bed and sits down on the floor in front of me grabbing my arms, steadily, ignoring the way she’s wrinkling her own dress. She says, “Honey, your grades are amazing, so I don’t understand how you don’t get this. He likes you, he asked you to the ball because he likes you.”

“Then why would he say that we’re going as just friends?” I add a piece of information that I should’ve told her about a long time ago. Her face twists into confusion, and she says, “Did he actually say that?”

I think back to exactly what happened and I stutter, “I-I mean, he kind of sort of did?”

“So, he didn’t actually say that?”

“Well, Draco’s never been very forward about his feelings, but I could tell.” I say, folding my arms, slipping my hands away from her’s. She rolls her eyes once more, and replies, “That is true, but he’s also never been that good at hiding them.”

I look away from her, not wanting to indulge in the thought that my long time crush of four years would like me back. Pansy starts, “The reason why I stopped liking him-”

I always hated when she brought up her feelings for him. It was a rocky part of our friendship, both of us hoping he’d like one of us back. She continues, “Is because I wasn’t blind enough to not notice the way he simply adores you.”

Pansy wouldn’t lie to me, I know that, even when she kissed him one night about a year ago, she’d told me straight away, because no boy was worth it. I held back because she liked him, but now that she doesn’t, why am I still holding back?

“I don’t know…I’d hate to do something that would ruin our friendship.” I say, lowering my head to the floor. She nods her head and says, “Alright, that’s a valid concern, but just please open your eyes, tonight, and see what everyone’s been seeing for so long.”

“Okay, I promise that if I see his heart shaped eyes, I will kiss him myself.” I giggle at the absurdity of my words, and Pansy smiles, but shakes her head disapprovingly.

She puts on her own shoes, and says, “We should get going, the ball’s about to start.”

We head down the stairs and Blaise notices Pansy first. He grins and rushes up the last few steps to catch her arm in his grasp. He kisses her and they rush into the great hall, excitedly. I didn't even notice that Draco’s been looking at me till I couldn’t see my friends anymore.

His eyes are unblinking, but not in a creepy way. I start to feel self conscious as I stand in front of him, and he’s yet to say or do anything. I wave my hand over his face, and say, “Umm, Draco? Is there something wrong with the dress or something?”

He shakes his head as he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, and he starts rambling. Calm,cool and collected Draco Malfoy starts rambling. He says, “I- no, it’s great, you’re great- I mean uhh, it’s my favourite colour and you’re uh, you’re um…gorgeous, not that you're only gorgeous because of the dress, you’re always gorgeous, beautiful even most of the time, I mean all the time. Even when you’re half asleep during the early classes-”

I really wanted to ignore what was happening, stay on the safe side, to keep our friendship intact, but I really wanted this, I really really wanted him. I couldn’t deny it anymore, Merlin knows how Pansy knew that tonight was the night, but with Draco’s flushed cheeks, and as cringy as it sounds, heart shaped eyes, I couldn’t help myself anymore.

I cup his face in my hands, and I peck his lips. It’s soft, light, nearly nothing, but it cuts off his rambling and short circuits my heart. He blinks, once, twice, three times, and I start to regret my decision. It’s my turn to ramble, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you wouldn’t umm- I should’ve thought of better ways to shut you up like tell you, or slap you or something-”

He takes a step towards me, effectively silencing me, and pulls me in closer by my waste. He leans down, he hesitates, he looks into my eyes, and I hope that they’re telling him to do it, and he does. He kisses me deeply, the entire opposite of the first kiss. It was strong, and sure.

He parts from my lips when we aren’t able to breathe anymore. He smiles at me, and I giggle as I see the remains of my lipstick on his lips. I smile, “You’ve got, um-”

He reaches out to where I’m pointing in confusion, and I stop his hands by holding them, and reaching out my thumb to wipe his lips. Once again, he’s staring at me with so much emotion that I try not to fumble under the attention. I say, “Lipstick.”

“You shouldn’t have worn any because I think I’m going to spend the entire night with red lips.” He smiles, and kisses me again. When he leads me to the great hall, I’m the one with heart shaped eyes.

50 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 2 months

Text

I think I'm in love with this

Unknown Sender

happy valentine's day!

MONDAY: 13:52

‘hi.’ Peter squints at the message, then the unsaved number. He's not sure how, but it’s a scam.

‘i’d like to have your attention, please.’ Peter rolls his eyes, swiping left to not only delete but report the number as junk. No doubt it was a bot or someone with a flair for sextortion.

A new number. ‘that was actually so rude of you, parker.’

‘unblock me right now.’

Peter shifts in his seat, he does a slow look around the room and finds nothing off putting or alarming.

‘Who is this?’

Green bubbles pop up. ‘unblock me and i’ll tell you.’ Peter was right to guess about extortion. Another swipe, blocked and reported. Peter wasn’t participating in any games.

A new number. ‘oh, now you’re just being cute.’

Peter feels his heart pick up a bit, it’s a tad threatening and now he’s overthinking it a little. What if someone has it out for him? Is there a mark on his back? ‘Please leave me alone.’

‘no.’

‘can we play 21 questions?’

Peter’s face scrunches up, he spins his head around one more time, someone is fucking with him. He has no clue who has time for something like that in university, but he’s not a willing participant anymore, not since high school.

‘Leave me alone. Go torment a freshman.’

‘i don’t like freshmen. i like you.’ Peter chews at his bottom lip, there was a second of hesitancy but he knows the truth deep down. ‘I’m blocking you.’

‘sure. i’ll keep texting you, too.’

‘I’ll change my number.’

‘noooo please don’t do that. i had to work hard enough to get it the first time.’ Peter doesn’t respond. He blocks the number and moves on, and they don’t try to text him again.

Until the next day and Peter knows two things for certain. There is a note in his backpack, and it wasn’t there before his econ lecture. He remembers pulling that pocket open before he started notes, then when he went to zip it up, a note.

This upsets him. What good was any sense when someone could get that unnoticeably close to him without him knowing? Second, it’s a little frustrating not to know who this person is and how it most likely is connected to the texts he had a few days ago, and that it’s an extremely long played joke that’s mostly boring.

‘Peter Parker-

You’ve been secretly admired. It might not be very secret, because I think you’ve caught me staring at you a thousand times. I like you a lot.

Hopefully liked back,

-X’

But a part of him believes it’s true. He’s trying to think of who’s in his lecture, if he’s caught them staring then they’re either to the side or behind him. There are too many faces, too many times he’s been looked at, he’s almost centered, it’s his fault for choosing a focal point.

Instead of throwing it away, he refolds the pink handwriting and puts it back into place before hitching a strap over his shoulder and sliding behind chairs. One, two steps up he glances at your face, you have a weak smile, he returns the same kind, it’s more like a polite nod. Peter’s always thought you were pretty and he thinks you're nice.

But really, he’s wondering who left the note.

10:30

‘did you get my note?’ Peter does his normal scan across campus, again, his fault for being out in the open. This person could be anywhere, he’s on a picnic bench with a group of friends. If he’s smart, he’d start limiting himself to contained spaces and make you show yourself.

‘Yeah. Who is this?’ Peter’s thumbs dance around the screen waiting for a reply, it comes quick. ‘i told you. x.’ He stops himself from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t know anyone with an ‘X’ anywhere in their name.

‘Is that an initial?’

‘actually, i’m pretty sure it’s british for kiss.’

‘That’s a wild take. Are you saying the UK is responsible for XOXO’s?’

‘i’d like to make you responsible for my xoxo’s.’ Peter chews his bottom lip, he won’t play into anything in writing. He doesn’t believe this for a second, everything about this feels off. Someone’s fucking with him and they’re also in his class, or they have someone in on it in his class.

But this is too advanced.

‘sorry. i don’t mean to like harass you or anything. you’re really hot but you scare me, i don’t think you would like me so idk, maybe if you talk to me you’d like me for me or something.’

‘i just think i’m punching wayyyy above my weight class here and i may be making this worse because there is no doubt you think im weird.’

‘i am weird. i should leave you alone now. i’m sorry.’

Peter reads his screen four times, it’s still not clicking. He’s nothing special and he doesn’t mean that in a way to dog on himself, he’s just nerdy and quiet. It seems a little too authentic to be fake, but he’s got to make sure.

‘How’d you get my number?’

‘your friend. they have been sworn to secrecy but they know what i’m doing and they are in full support. take that as you will.’

‘Depends on the friend.’

‘i’ll tell you when you find out who i am.’

‘I’m going to find out? You’re not going to tell me?’

‘i don’t think i’ve been hiding it. you just haven’t been paying attention and now i want you to.’

‘Oh, but you’re shy?’

‘i’m about to pass out on the lawn behind this fucking screen, don’t play with me parker.’ A slip, you’re around him and you just admitted it. ‘Tell me, admirer, what are you wearing?’ The more detail the better, but he could work off of just a color.

‘nice try. but you’re looking mighty handsome in the blue.’ A glance down, he suddenly feels watched. ‘Are you stalking me?’

‘oh no! no no no. i PROMISE you i’m not that fucking psychotic.’

‘i’m just a “sneak a note into your backpack” level of crazy. i’m here with my roommate and her boyfriend. i saw you and just wanted to know if you got it, i promise.’

‘You do understand that this situation makes you seem psychotic, right?’

‘yes. but i am not.’

‘That sounds like something a crazy person who got my number from a third party would say. Especially after I blocked you six times.’

‘it was three and you didn’t understand my intentions but okay. you have a fair point and i extend the olive branch of brett. he gave me your number and he knows me pretty well.’

Brett? Easy enough, he nods his head towards him and slides his phone across the table. “Explain.” His friend scrolls through the thread, a trustworthy smile spreads. “Yeah, I gave her your number.” Her. Okay, it’s something. “Who is she?” Brett shrugs, “you know her. She’s kind of a firecracker, you just make her nervous.”

“That gives me nothing, Brett.” His friend blinks, “she’s not crazy. She likes you a lot for whatever fucking reason and has no idea how to approach you.” Peter’s letting his words soak in, “don’t believe me? Ask her about the grilled cheese, and make sure you tell her that I told you about how she went on for five fucking minutes about the grilled cheese.”

“What grilled cheese?” Brett slides Peter’s phone back, he’s telling him to ask you. Something tells Peter it’s enough to embarrass, or it might be Brett being the ultimate wingman.

‘I’ve been told to ask you about the grilled cheese.’

‘oh god. there is no need to ask about the grilled cheese, did brett tell you about the grilled cheese?’

‘He told me to ask you. And to specify that you went on for five minutes about it.’

‘five is excessive, it was more like three. second, there is nothing to speak about.’

‘I would like to hear about it.’

‘i’d prefer if you didn’t.’

‘But you’ll do it for me?’

‘i’m weak for you and you know it. it’s sicking, parker.’

‘i heard you talking about making one in class and you said something about the crust and i really fucking love grilled cheese’s so i had a trip to fantasy land where you made me one and how it’s probably the best thing i’ll never get to taste.’

‘Wow. Five whole minutes on that?’ Peter won’t admit it made him feel a little warm on the inside, the most mundane of things to have someone so squirrely makes him feel unworthy.

‘three.’

‘Tell me who you are and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.’

‘you have no idea how much that almost worked.’

‘What’s the plan then, master manipulator?’

‘i don’t know yet. i’m hoping you show me how smart you are and figure me out, then you can do all the hard questions.’

‘Hard questions?’

‘you know, do you wanna go on a date, do you wanna be my girlfriend, do you want to take my hand in marriage and have a summer home in the french alps? that kind of stuff.’

‘Totally not psychotic.’ Peter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the smile that wants to spread.

‘mostly not.’

WEDNESDAY: 13:57

Peter doesn’t know who X is, but they’re clever and have zero effect on his sixth sense. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he’s reading a note scribbled in blue pen and as he studies the words he knows it was rushed. It’s proof that he wasn’t being followed everywhere, instead you saw an empty table and an opportunity.

‘Peter-

You use mostly gender neutral pronouns. I think that’s very cool. Is it weird that I notice those things about you? Also- what is it that you’re always drinking from Nuthouse? Asking for a friend…

Have a good day!

-Your not so secret admirer, X.

‘Not so secret,’ Peter isn’t sure about that. You’ve done a good enough job at not trying to be obviously known, he might have looked up your number last night to find dust. One was from an app, but the one you’ve been using is a burner phone.

What he’s really not understanding is how you’re able to get so close to him without him noticing. You had to have been millimeters away when you rested the letter on his backpack, he was gone for less than two minutes and he had zero awareness.

Peter folds up the note and sticks it in the same pocket as the other one, his back slung around one shoulder as he moves up the stairs for the library. At the same time, you come down the opposite side, Peter gives a friendly acknowledgement.

You choke down the lump in your throat. “Hi, Peter.” He’s already past you, it’s echoed behind his shoulder. “Hey.” It’s something. You’re trying, you’re trying to be bold for him. But he’s not going to notice, he’s never going to notice you and if you tell him who you are you’ll never live past his disappointment.

Your phone vibrates, the other phone. Your heart picks up, Peter texted first.

14:02

‘Dirty chai.’

‘best of both worlds. how fitting. you’re such a nonconforming king.’

‘I don’t even know what that means.’

‘But thank you?’

‘you’re welcome!’

‘anything fun on the roster today?’

‘Roster? Who are you?’

‘idk you make me nervous. blame yourself.’

‘Well, coach. Nothing fun on the roster, just some math. Wanna swap places with me?’

‘gross. i hate math so if you like it that’s good with me. one of us has to be smart and it’s not me.’

‘Smart enough to use a burner phone.’

‘oooooh, someone tried to find meeee.’

‘Can’t blame a guy for being curious, can you?’

‘were you disappointed when you found nothing?’

‘A little bit. But, you know, it keeps the imagination alive. A little unfair advantage on your side though, you already know what I look like.’

‘if it helps, you already know what i look like too.’

‘I do?’

‘yeah. we’ve talked before.’

‘Wait, so I know who you are?’ Brett said he did but Peter thought he meant you’d be familiar, not that he actually knew you. This just opened the floodgates to a million more possibilities.

‘not really but yeah i guess. you know i exist but we’re not friends or anything.’

‘I’d like to think we’re friends, but okay.’

‘not outside the texting.’

‘That’s your decision.’

‘HATER.’

‘Anymore hints?’

‘.... no.’

‘HATER.’

FRIDAY: 12:15

You’re about to spill hot tea everywhere but it’ll be worth it to see his face. You ignore your pounding heart and stand in front of him. He’s got no clue you showed up, zoned out looking at the clock on the wall across from him.

“Hi, Peter.”

Full frontal attention, he’s looking at you. He’s perceiving you, he’s smiling at you. “Hi,” your eyes expand, he knows your name and it sounds so nice coming from his mouth. Sure, you’ve chatted with each other- even shared a few highlighters, but nothing serious. You’ve always been too scared to try anything else but maybe your fear has been mistaken for indifference.

“I um, I lucked out today at Nuthouse so if you like dirty chai’s I got an extra one.” Your knees feel weak at his bright eyes, “my favorite. I’d love one, thank you.” You pass over the paper cup, your fingers brush and you think you’re about to collapse.

“Yeah,” a weak laugh. “I had a feeling.” Peter tilts his head at you funny, you wonder if you pushed a little too far. “Okay, um, I’m gonna… have a good… lecture.” Peter nods and watches you go two rows up, he’s finally got a gut feeling. And it tells him to keep an eye out for you.

TUESDAY: 12:10

Not that Peter was reliant on your attention, he was used to it. So when the texts stopped for three days and he was unable to find any letters he assumed you had lost interest and moved on. That felt fair to him, no harm no foul, at least he never really got to know you.

Nevermind, there’s a folded notebook page on his miniature desk and his heart speeds up. His next task, put eyes on you. Bottom level, book and pencil in hand. He makes sure to note it’s a pencil and not the green ink that’s spread across the page.

Peter thinks it’s a mind game, you were smart enough to know he’d look. Unless he was totally wrong on his guess.

‘Peter-

I ran out of minutes on my phone and I’m having a broke college kid moment. However, a friend took pity and donated a twenty to the campaign. I hope you’ve been good- I’ve missed talking to you.

- Your not so secret admirer, X’

ps. stop keeping your backpack so close to you.’

It wasn’t anything personal, you just ran out of minutes. Peter smiles so wide he has to drop it, he almost clutches the paper to his chest in a thank you. Eyeing his backpack, he nudges it a little further behind him, following instruction. He’s kept it close in hopes to catch you, but instead he’s pushing you away.

Peter’s committing the writing to memory as if he’s going to find you by the handwriting alone. A quick glance at footsteps, you’re three steps away when you smile. “Hi, Peter.” He nods, “hey.” You pause for a moment, mind racing for words.

“Did you, um- did you do anything fun this weekend?” You’re about to crawl into a hole and die, it takes a moment to click that you were speaking to him. He went as far to look behind himself, then he spewed the answer to try and make up for the lost time.

“Oh, uh not really. My aunt got a new bed so I had to lug the old one down seven flights of stairs.” Your eyes widen, you feel your mouth go dry and your tongue go thick. “By yourself?” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, a boyish grin swept over and you feel heart eyes form.

“I’m a good nephew.” You want to pat his head and tell him you’re sure he is, then maybe hold him at gunpoint and tell you more stories about how he’s a perfect humanitarian. But you act like a normal human and smile back, “you sound like it.”

Peter thanks you and you return to your seat with wobbly knees and a weak stomach, it’s silent torture to tease yourself like this with him. But you can’t help it and it’s only in effort to go after what you want. Even if it blows up when he figures out who you are.

12:13

‘you’re looking mighty handsome today, mr. parker.’

‘I’m wearing a hoodie, but thank you.’

‘i said what i said.’

Boldly, ‘i see someone had another dirty chai. can’t stay away from them, can you?’

Another tick in Peter's stomach, he almost looks behind his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. ‘It was a generous donation from a classmate.’

‘oh? pray tell, peter. pray tell.’

‘What? You don’t have a clue about who gave it to me?’

You swallow thickly, before you could get something out he sent another message. ‘No chance you didn’t see it go down?’

‘how could i? I was still on my way.’

‘... or was i?’

‘Tell you what, X. It one of the best teas I’ve had in a while.’

And you’d be damned if that didn’t make your entire chest flutter.

FRIDAY: 15:29

“Here,” Peter’s hand clasped over the paper slapped into his chest. A hint of a syllable, Brett cuts himself off. “She asked me to give this to you.” Peter quickly read it and stared down before confiding in his friend for a second.

‘Peter-

Roses are red, violets are blue, all that I think about is you.

It’s sweet in a cringy way, right? Boo on you for skipping class today, if you want, I could get you some notes.

I hope I’ll see you Tuesday.

-Your (really) not so secret admirer, X

ps. A pen exploded in my pocket. 10/10 chance my thigh will be stained.’

“I think I might know who it is.”

“Uh, huh.”

“But, she’s way out of my league.”

“Correct.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “so it’s her?” He clarified with your name, Brett shrugged back.

“I won’t be confirming or denying.” Peter knows what that means, “the lack of a no usually means yes.”

“Bro,” Peter starts sputtering, “oh, c’mon! You know what I meant, I just meant that, I just- c’mon, Brett. Is it her?”

“I have no idea who that is.” Peter wants to call bullshit, he has a gut feeling and he swears it’s you. You’re right, it’s not so secret. In fact, you’re painfully obvious.

FRIDAY: 23:14

‘you are soooooooo cute’

‘like your hair is so cute’

‘i looooove curly hair on guys and you have that!!!!!!!!!’

‘and you’re really funny cause like it’s so quick and witty like you have such good one liners’

‘also you’re really fucking hot and i KNOW you’re hiding something under those fucking sweaters and the second i see skin i WILL go feral.’

‘Something tells me you’re at the Kappa party.’ Peter’s pretending he doesn’t have a searing blush. If he’s got an inkling this could be you… then he might have proof for the non-believers that god exists.

‘yes!!! are you here?? i should come see you.’

‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m currently at a friend's house playing a Mario Kart drinking game.’

“But it’s nice to know that you’d give me your identity that quick.’

‘oh i can tell you who i am.’ Peter frowns at the text, he’s been doing nothing but crave the answer to who’s behind the love letters but it feels wrong. It’s not satisfactory enough for him, it’s also not what you want, you’re just drunk- and Peter’s going out on a limb here- horny.

‘Save it for later.’

‘And maybe drink some water.’

‘i’d do anything for you cause you have the world's prettiest brown eyes’

‘Thank you for the compliments.’

‘you’re super welcome i try to hold them back because i’m a good girl but you’re just so cute i had to let you know’

‘I think you’re going to super regret this in the morning.’

‘false. maybe fact idk’

‘i should trust you tho because you’re super smart and you’re a nerd.’

‘I fear this is taking a turn for the worse.’

‘and that is so fucking HOT’

‘Oh. Back to compliments. Thank you.’

‘if you were here i’d give you a kiss’

‘IGNORE THAT!!!!’

‘I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT!!!! IGNORE IT’

‘Not ignored. How cute.’

‘screaming crying throwing up’

‘i really didn’t mean to send that it was a joke ha ha funny.’

‘Idk, sounded authentic to me.’

‘peter?’

‘Yeah?’

‘i’m a little drunk rn. and you should know how cute you are.’

‘Oh, I’m talking about record breaking levels of regret. This is amazing.’

‘i have to pee but i do not reget this!!!!!!’

SATURDAY: 09:54

‘i stand by my claim and do not regret a thing.’

‘correction. i regret this hangover and the way my previous texts are not very cool girl of me.’

‘but i would like to know if you won mario last night.’

‘also, who’s ur fav character?’

11:12

1. Proud of you for owning it, that’s very cool girl of you.

2. I did not win.

3. Petey Piranha.

‘who tf is petey piranha.’

‘Mario Kart Sunshine. Came out in 2002. (Originally on GameCube but recently released on switch.) (Hell yeah.)’

Your heart thumps, he’s such a nerd and you wanna kiss the air out of his lungs. ‘out of all the characters and u choose him. why petey piranha’

‘One guess.’

‘PETEY PIRANHA.’

‘OH MY GOD.’

‘you’re petey piranha <333’

Peter fights a grin, ‘I am.’

‘you’re so cute. i love that.’

‘Personally, in the past 24 hours I don’t think I’ve heard enough about how cute I am.’

‘you’re insufferable and it’s sexy.’

‘Oo, new one to the mix. You’re making me blush.’ You really are. He’s never been considered sexy before and it feels really nice.

‘and i bet you look super cute.’

‘Super true.’

TUESDAY: 12:34

‘white t shirt white t shirt white t shirt WHITE T SHIRT.’

‘You like?’

‘i’m about to cry i’m biting my fist so fucking hard.’

‘:)’

‘you’re so ubuibabeyia.’

‘Bless you.’

‘?’

‘Sorry, I assumed you sneezed.’ Peter never whipped his head around so fast at an audible laugh behind him. It was short, it had escaped without being thought about. He’s looking for you, but it doesn’t seem like it was you who laughed. You’re engrossed in chatting to your neighbor.

On the other hand, you almost blew it by clasping your hands over your mouth. Instead you looked next to you and said, directly and with a burning gaze, “I need you to pretend we’ve been talking this whole time.”

‘Someone’s losing their edge, you’re just begging to be caught.’

‘oh, i’m begging all right.’

‘can you hear me whimpering too?’

‘Easy, killer. Let’s not start sexting at noon on a Tuesday.’

‘are you saying there is a time for it?’

‘Give me a little wave and we’ll see.’

‘too late, i’m passed out on the floor. the only thing that can resuscitate me are those thick arms wrapped around me.’

‘Let these strong arms sweep you off your feet, all you gotta do is come talk to me after lecture…’

Peter says that, but he doesn’t mean it. He’ll definitely eat his words when he sees it’s you, then he’d be coming up with a thousand ways to back out of it. He’s so much more than you deserve, you feel so safe behind a keyboard but in person you can barely say a sentence.

It’s stupid and a little humbling because you’ve never felt this way about a guy before.

‘trust me, i’m better in your imagination.’

WEDNESDAY: 14:22

‘Peter-

You know a little about a lot and I think that is one of my favorite things about you. Or maybe it’s your voice. I could listen to you talk forever.

-Your not so secret admirer, X’

A note under his textbook, if he follows his hunch then he’d be looking for… you. Conveniently three tables away and to the right of his own, you’re not looking for his reaction, you’ve got your focus on your own textbook but he swears you’re retaining none of it. It’s a distraction, or maybe it’s a diversion.

Peter doesn’t mind. He’s going to wait. He has all the time in the world today and he’s going to sit here with his eyes on you until you look up at him because he knows you’re going to and once you do, he’s going to have his answer.

If he’s right, and he swears he is, he’s going to absolutely lose is shit because what do you mean you like him and are intimidated? You boldly lied when you said you were punching above your weight class. Does it make him a jerk to say he wasn’t even thinking of you as a suitor and maybe a girl with a much more average look?

Peter counted to sixty twice, you glance up, eyes shooting to the note you left on the table. The next stop, Peter’s face. And oh, you were not prepared to have him looking right back. Panic, you shoot a wave, a desperate attempt to pretend you’re seeing a familiar face.

Peter waves back but he looks much more satisfied than you did, you wonder if the jig is up. Did he crack the code? Was he just trying to find a friendly way to let you down? Deny til death, he has no proof it’s you. You pack your things up, a hurried scramble before you could lose your cool.

On the way out you almost stop breathing, your forearm caught in Peter’s hand. You’re staring down at it, he’s not removing it. It burns in the best way. “Hey,” you wait, you can’t stop looking at his hand, the muscle, the subtle flex, his fingertips paler to show his grip. “Hi, Peter.”

It’s breathless, you think you’re about to die. If he asks, you don’t know how you’ll lie your way out.

Guess who’s got a stained pocket? The corner edge darkened with black ink that would never be washed out. Peter has his answer. You’re her. You’re X. “Thanks again for the tea.”

Maybe you wanted more, you feel a bit deflated when it’s all you receive.

“You’re welcome.” Your arm feels cold when he drops his touch, you linger for a second too long, you’re not sure when you’ll be this brave again. It was too much of a close call. “I hope the rest of your day is good.”

Peter’s got a charismatic grin, he feels settled now that he knows you’re the anonymous lover in his life. Even more so when you find yourself shy and reserved in person, it almost makes him giggle to think of the stark changes in confidence.

“You too.” Your body engulfs into flames when your arm is caught again, you’re struggling to keep calm at his boyish smile. “Quick question,” you nod slightly, trying to show zero paranoia for the following words.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Short circuiting. You see black spots, you think you’re about to pass out. There is only one thing that means, no guy asks that if they weren’t interested in changing that, right?

“No.” It’s anything but graceful. It sounds like you’ve never had a boyfriend before. It makes you sound like you’re scared he asked it.

But, Peter doesn’t take it like that. He smiles wider, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.

THURSDAY: 16:37

A new letter, stuffed under the top handle of his backpack. Peter listened and stopped setting it next to him, in return he was rewarded. He can’t stop the small smile, you make it involuntary at this point. Peter’s never felt so special in his life, a little part of him wants this to never end. But he’d much rather look you in the eyes.

‘Peter-

I had a dream with you in it last night. Don’t worry, you had your clothes on. I’m not sure what we were doing but you were across from me at a diner and we were sitting in those super thick booths and our friends were there.

I don’t know who these friends were, and I don’t think you do either. But I knew them as our friends.

It felt really nice. I’m happy to know you, even if I just get this little piece.

-Your not so secret admirer, X’

Peter’s been wrong a lot in his life but this time he really thinks he has it figured out. He’s much more bold now, this letter tells him it’s not infatuation, it’s love.

You love him and he thinks he could love you too.

FRIDAY: 20:08

‘Hey.’ Peter could be making the worst decision of his life here, he could be reading everything wrong and ruining this for himself.

‘hi peter!’ But he really thinks he’s got it right.

‘I really, really liked talking to you for the past few weeks but I think I should tell you that I like someone else.’

Gut wrenching despair. You knew it was too good to last, you knew he’d find someone more in his league. Someone who’d be willing to show him their face. There was no reason to respond because what would you say to that?

‘thank you for letting me know that opening up to you was all for nothing!’

‘thanks for making me doubt love!’

‘hope you and her are so fucking happy together!!!!!’

Fuck it all and fuck Peter. He just liked the attention until it came from somewhere else. You don’t think you like him all that much anymore. You think you’re lying, too. Before you can give into the desire of hurting him just as bad, you calmly turn the phone off and stuff it in the back of a desk drawer to never be uncovered again.

You slowly sit in bed and tug the blankets over your head. And only then, do you allow yourself to sob.

Peter chewed on his bottom lip and waited an hour with constant phone checks before he realized a response was never coming. It really set in during the weekend but even further when he got no note or letter on monday. Not even when he left his backpack unattended for five minutes.

TUESDAY -he was able to see you and how you avoided his eyes. How you pretended you didn’t see him send a small wave. How you had pulled back from him.

And if he hadn’t hurt your feelings, or X’s feelings, why would you do that?

You look up at a two fingered knock at the corner of your desk. “Hi.” You blink and ignore the white noise buzzing in your ears at the sight of Peter standing in front of you. “Hi, Peter.”

“How was your weekend?” Bitter. Terrible. Lonely.

“Fine. Nothing exciting.” Besides you breaking my heart.

Watching his fingertips dance on the edge of the plastic, you feel everything in you brighten. “You look sad.” There’s a burn in your stomach, he’s the reason for both the sting and the sadness.

“Do you need something? Or are you just doing a friendly check in?” Peter bites back the grin when you snap at him, he’s so, so, so right and it feels so, so, so good. “Neither. I’m just confirming my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

“Yeah. You passed.” Your eyebrows furrow, before you could try to question further Peter was giving half a wave, saying bye, and skipping a step to his aisle.

FRIDAY: 12:08

You stop breathing for a solid second before feeling your brain spark back to life. It could be anything, it could be from anyone, but you know there’s only one person who would’ve left a note on your desk.

Your fingers slightly shake when you unfold the graph paper, little squares bled through with black sharpie.

‘X-

Am I right?

Hopefully,

- Peter’

You can’t breathe, you can’t talk, you can’t move and you definitely can fucking not look at him. No, no, no. You can feel his eyes on you, you know he’s watching for your reaction. Peter figured you out and had his own fun along the way.

You were the girl he liked. Oh, wow. Is this how special you’ve made him feel? Something just for your eyes, from him. A secret you both shared between lines.

You spin and swear you can feel his gaze running over your back, he’s aching for the answer. You almost scream at a tap on your shoulder, a peek lets you know it’s the person you’re hiding from.

Another note, folded up just like the other one. It’s pushed into your hand, Peter doesn’t say a word, he just offers and leaves. He’s not watching this time, he’s sitting and focused on the front, you feel air leak back into your lungs.

Full on panic shaking, you’re so happy he’s not watching.

Your name is addressed on the front, just like you do for him.

‘I like you.

I think you not so secretly like me too.

We could talk more about it at dinner tonight. Will you let me take you out?

Circle yes or no.

- Peter.

PS. XOXOXO now you’re responsible for mine, too.’

1K notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 3 months

Text

I'm back

Hello, so it's been over than two months since I've done almost anything and the reason for that was just a multitude of stressful events occurring one after the other, and just a whole lot of instability that didn't give me the opportunity to post frequently. However that will hopefully change soon. I'm going to try to post at least once a week, just to start going again, and I'll see if I can post more frequently as we go on. I hope you guys were all alright during this LONG pause of mine.

#harrypotterimagine #hogwarts #harry potter #harrypotter #fanfiction #fluff #gryffindor #harrypotterfluff #harryjamespotter #alone with my thoughts #haitus #i'm back #hello again

1 note · View note

mastermindmiko · 3 months

Text

Aww this just broke me, fixed me then broke me even harder

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you think you may be pregnant and tell Peter (characters are 18+)

Masterlist

“Can I help you find anything today?”

You momentarily broke out of your stunned state and looked at the CVS employee that was talking to you. You hadn’t even heard her walk up to you from how deep in thought you were.

“Um…” You trailed off and turned back to the row of pregnancy tests in front of you. You had been walking around for the past few weeks with a strange feeling in your gut that something was different. After realizing that morning that you couldn’t remember when your last period was, you took yourself to CVS to get a pregnancy test. Part of you thought there was absolutely no way you could ever possibly be pregnant, but the other part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you definitely were.

“Did you have any questions?” The employee said when you took too long to answer. An overwhelming sense of dread fell over you when you realized you had no idea which one to choose. Your eyes suddenly filled with tears and you sucked in a sharp, panicked breath.

“Hey. It’s okay.” The employee said and put her hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not okay. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. I wanted my first time buying a pregnancy test to be exciting and joyful. But I’m scared to death right now and I don’t even know which one to get. If I can’t even make one stupid decision on what test to get, how am I supposed to raise a human?” You blurted and looked at her desperately for answer. The young employee blinked a few times and you immediately felt embarrassed for dumping all of that on a girl who looked fresh out of high school.

“Um, I can ask my manager?” She weakly offered. You laughed lightly and wiped your tears.

“Sorry. I’m just really emotional right now.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” She told you and practically ran out of the aisle. You knew you had scared her away and assumed she’d never be back but to your surprise, a manger came down the aisle. She took a test off the shelf and handed it to you.

“I use these. They’re pretty accurate. And you don’t have to worry about misreading the little lines because it has a digital screen. If it’s your first time, you want to know for certain. And it comes with two so you can double check.” She told you. You stared at the box in your hand and for a moment, you didn’t feel as scared.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. The manager smiled at you and took a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to you.

“You’ll be okay, hon.” She assured you.

“What if I’m not?” You asked quietly.

“Don’t worry about that. Because that’s not gonna happen.”

“I’m really scared.” You admitted and clenched the box in your hand. She looked you up and down for a moment before nodding towards the back of the store.

“Come with me.” She said, and you did. You followed her to the employee bathroom and watched her unlock it for you.

“It’s a single stall so you’ll have privacy. Go in there and take the test.” She said and held the door open.

“But…won’t you be able to hear me pee?”

“Yup. And you’ll be thinking about that instead of what that test is gonna say. So go on.” She said again.

“Thank you, magical CVS lady.” You smiled in sincere appreciation before going in and taking the test. After peeing on it, you put the cap back on, washed your hands, and left the bathroom.

“I can’t look at this. You do it.” You grimaced and held the test out to her.

“What’s it say?” You asked nervously.

“I’m not touching something you just peed on. You have to look yourself.” She told you. You sighed and decided that if you were gonna check the test, it had to be with Peter. You nodded your head and put the test in your purse.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked her.

“I’m not you from the future.” She shook her head.

“Psh. What makes you think I was gonna ask that?” You scoffed. “Unless you are me from the future and already knew I was gonna ask that.”

“We are not even the same race.” She reminded you.

“Oh. Yeah. Unless in the future, people-“

“Go pay for that.” She cut you off. “And talk to your boyfriend. It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope you’re right. Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely before going to the register.

The pregnancy test was burning a hole in your purse as you walked to Peters apartment. May let you in and your legs felt weak beneath you as you knocked on his bedroom door.

“Oh, hi, honey. I wasn’t expecting you.” Peter smiled when he opened the door.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is this about my YouTube search history? I wasn’t watching Jake Paul I just wanted to know if he still uploaded and-“

“It’s not about that.” You cut him of.

“Oh. Serious face.” Peter realized. “Have you been crying? What’s going on?”

You sighed and shut the door behind you before sitting on his bed. Peter sat beside you and took your hands.

“What’s going on?” He asked softly.

“I’m….I’m late.” You said slowly.

“For what? We didn’t have any plans.”

“No, Peter. I’m late.” You said and emphasized the last word.

“For what?” He mimicked your tone and laughed at his own joke.

“It’s not funny. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.” You said as your eyes welled up with tears again. Peters head jutted back in surprise at your unexpected tears and he immediately pulled you into a hug.

“Woah. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said as he rubbed your back up and down.

“I think I really messed up, P. I think I’m in a lot of trouble.” You sniffled as you wiped your eyes.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“My period never came this month.”

“So?”

“I didn’t get it last month either. I drove to an all night McDonalds last night because I specifically needed their sweet tea. My emotions are all over the place.” You listed and gestured to him to fill in the blanks.

“I feel like you’re leading me somewhere but now I can’t stop thinking about how good McDonald’s sweet tea is.” Peter said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Peter, I think I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” He whispered harshly. “Like with a baby?”

“What else?”

“Hold on. Let’s not freak about before we have all the answers. A missed period doesn’t automatically mean you’re pregnant.”

“No, but this pregnancy test does.” You said and wiped out the test from your purse.

“You already took a test? Why didn’t you lead with this?” Peter asked in shock as he took the test. It was face down so neither of you could see the result.

“I haven’t looked at it yet. The magical CVS lady told me we should look at it together.”

“You went to CVS without me?” He whispered in betrayal.

“Peter. This is serious.” You whined and shook his arm.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s look at it.” Peter said and flipped it over.

“I can’t look. You do it.” You said and quickly turned your face. There was a long pause of silence that sent your anxiety into overdrive.

“Well?” You asked. “What does it say?”

“I haven’t looked yet. My eyes are shut.” He admitted.

“Oh, just give it to me.” You sighed and took the test back from him.

The word “pregnant” were staring back at you on the little screen of the test in bold letters. You read that one word over and over, half expecting it to change. You looked over at Peter and watched him peak his eyes open.

“What does it say?” He asked you.

“Pregnant.” You said and you both sat with the weight of that. There was a long silence as you both stared at the test that was in your shaking hand.

“Maybe it’s false. Don’t people get false positives all the time?” Peter asked quietly. He was white as a ghost and you knew he was just as terrified as you were.

“The lady at CVS said this brand was pretty accurate. And I told you. My period never came.”

“Okay. We still don’t have to freak out. A missed period and a positive pregnancy test doesn’t automatically mean you’re pregnant.” He repeated his words from before with far less conviction.

“I think it kinda does, P.” You said apologetically. “And I just have this feeling. I’m pregnant. I know it.”

“This is all my fault.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face up and down.

“What makes you say that?”

“I made us watch look at the full moon after Thanksgiving and it got me in the mood because I was so overwhelmed with my love for space and time and now you’re pregnant.” Peter said as his eyes welled up with tears as well.

“What does you loving space exploration have to do with the potential of our teen pregnancy?” You laughed and relaxed a little.

“Well aren’t girls more fertile during the full moon? And how is this a teen pregnancy? We’re both 21.”

“Yes, but girls are teenagers their entire lives.” You reminded him. “And I don’t think the moon has anything to do with fertility.”

“Oh, so you think it’s just a coincidence that both the lunar and menstrual cycle last 28 days?” He asked you.

“Well when you say it like that.” You mumbled. You looked down at the test again and felt the overwhelming sense of dread return.

“I can’t believe I let this happen.” You said quietly.

“Hey. This was both of us, okay? It takes two to make a baby. Unless you secretly found a sperm donor and did an in vitro fertilization and then forgot about it but I don’t think you did that so this was probably our doing. So don’t put all the blame on yourself.” Peter said and pulled you back into his arms.

“But I could have been more careful. Now what am I gonna do? I can’t raise a kid, P. I’m not ready.” You said as you cried in his arms.

“Whatever happens, we’re gonna handle it together. You won’t be alone.” He promised you.

“But we’re just kids ourselves. We don’t know anything about looking after a human being. I don’t know how to cook and you put a bar of soap in the laundry machine last week and made all the other tenants mad. We were irresponsible enough to accidentally get knocked up so how are we responsible enough to raise a kid? What if we can’t do this?” You pulled out of his arms to ask him.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “Should we tell an adult?”

“Who?” You laughed sadly. “My parents? Not unless you want my dad to put your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style.”

“Thank you for that imagery. But I was thinking May. She might be more sensitive to what you’re going through.”

“Won’t she be mad at you?”

“I don’t think so. She’s extremely sex positive. Like, uncomfortably so.” Peter said and grimaced a little. You nodded in agreement as you recalled all the conversations you’ve had with her about your “changing bodies”.

“What if we never tell anyone?” You suggested after a beat of silence.

“We’re gonna have to tell them eventually. And if we don’t, they’re gonna notice. It’s kinda hard to hide a pregnancy for the entire ninth months.” Peter reminded you.

“What if there is no pregnancy? What if I get an abortion?”

“If thats what you want, I’ll support you. It’s your choice.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You admitted. “I made this baby. I feel like I’m supposed to take care of it.”

“You’re supposed to do whatever you feel is right for you. We can do whatever you want.” Peter assured you.

“Maybe adoption?” You suggested. “I could have the baby and we could find a nice couple to raise them.”

“We could look into that.” Peter nodded.

“I don’t know if I can do that either.” You sighed. “I know adoption works for a lot of people but I think I’d always wonder about our kid. And what if I regret giving them up when I’m older? I’m not ready now but I wanted kids one day. We can make another baby but we can never remake that baby. What if I want to be in their life but they don’t want to know me?”

“I’d wonder about them too.” Peter admitted. “But we have a lot of time to think about what to do. We don’t have to make any decisions right now.”

“I want to talk to May.” You decided. “She’ll know what we should do.”

“Okay. Let’s go see her. But later, uh, an we stop at…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Yeah. Fine.” You sighed. “I want sweet tea now too.”

You and Peter splashed cold water on your faces to make it look like you hadn’t been crying before going out to see May. Peter took your hand and squeezed it as you watched her from the hallway.

“Okay, we have to be strategic about this. We don’t want her freaking out and making us more nervous. Let’s just ease her into it.” He whispered to you.

“Good idea.” You whispered back before going out into the kitchen to see her.

“Oh, hi guys.” May greeted. “I’m starting to get hungry so I was thinking of making some-“

“I’m pregnant.” Peter’s blurted.

“What?” She laughed in confusion.

“Oh my God. Peter!” You groaned and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. You were saying you could make us something?” He asked May. May ignored him and looked at you with an expecting glance. You sighed and pulled the test out of your pocket before handing it to you. Her eyebrows went up in surprise but when she looked at you again, she didn’t look disappointed.

“How did this happen?”She asked you.

“Well, when a man and I woman love each other very much-“ Peter began.

“No.” May groaned. “I know how this happened. But don’t you guys use protection?”

“We do.” Peter nodded. “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” May asked skeptically.

“We don’t always have a condom handy but I have really fast reflexes.” Peter said in defense.

“Oh, really? Do you?” May asked with a huge smile as she grabbed the stick of butter beside her and launched it at Peter. It stuck to his face and everyone fell silent.

“Not fast enough, apparently.” She said finally. Peter took the butter off his face and went to clean up as you sat down to talk to May.

“Are you mad?” You asked her.

“I’m surprised.” She admitted. “But I also believe everything happens for a reason. This could be the universe telling you that this is the path for you.”

“Or, this is the universe telling me I should’ve wrapped it before I tapped it.” Peter said as he rejoined the conversation. May gave him a look and he went quiet again.

“Do you have any questions?” May asked you.

“Yes. What if it comes out covered in all the gum I’ve swallowed?” You asked with genuine concern.

“That…can’t happen.” May said slowly. “Do you know that? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“What if she farts too hard one day and gives birth in her underwear and then the baby can’t breathe?” Peter asked.

“What if I teach the baby to share and it ends up a communist?” You added.

“Oh no. We can’t have a commie baby.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“What if it’s just a giant spider?” You asked. “Or a regular baby but with eight legs?”

“Or a spider with a baby face. That would be so spooky.” Peter added.

“He’s right.” You said and pointed to him.

“No, he’s not right. Did either of you take sex Ed?” May sighed in disappointment.

“All I remember from health class is watching Inside Out.” Peter admitted.

“I love that movie. Except for the Bing Bong part.” You said and started to cry again as you thought about the movie.

“He sacrificed himself to let Riley be happy.” You said through your tears.

“Yeah, she’s definitely pregnant.” May sighed. “Who else have you guys told?”

“Just you. And some lady at CVS.” You told her.

“Understandable. I think you should decide if you want to keep the baby or not before telling anyone else.”

“She’s right. What do you want to do?” Peter asked you.

“I can’t make any decisions right now. I need to sleep on it. Can I sleep here tonight? I really don’t want to be alone with all my thoughts.” You sighed and rubbed your head.

“Can she?” Peter asked May.

“I mean, it’s not like she can get more pregnant.” May shrugged. You said nothing and went back to Peter’s room for some alone time. He was about to follow you but May stopped him and told him to give you some space. You laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long time as you thought about everything. Part of you wanted to scream for being so irresponsible but another part of you believed what May had said about everything happening for a reason. Peter came into the room after about an hour with a bowl of cut up fruit. You gave him a sad smile and sat up as he sat on the bed.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” You asked him.

“I’m kinda, I don’t know, excited.” Peter admitted.

“You are?” You asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, obviously I was shocked when you first told me. But now I can’t stop thinking about what our kid will be like.” Peter said. You ate some of your fruit and took a moment to think about what it would actually be like to have a baby with him. You looked over at Peter and saw his big brown eyes staring back at you with full attention.

“Hopefully they’d have your eyes. That was the first thing I noticed about you when we met. Big doe eyes that can’t hide anything you’re feeling. It’s my favorite part of your face.” You replied with a soft smile.

“That would be cute. But my biggest hope is that they get your heart. And your kindness. I’ve never seen you turn someone away who was in need. You’ve taken on so many others people’s problems even when you’re drowning in your own. You take care of people. I hope our kid is like that.” Peter said, making you smile softly.

“Well I hope our kid gets your creativity.” You told him. “The things your brain comes up with never fails to amaze me. When you can’t find something you need, you make it yourself. I hope our kid gets your brains. They’ll be able to think themselves out of anything.”

“I hope so. With me as their dad, they’re gonna need a lot of help.” Peter laughed softly.

“No. You’ll be a great dad.” You insisted. “I already know you’re gonna be the fun parent and I’m gonna be the one that has to keep everyone in check.”

“But they’ll love you. It’s impossible not to.” Peter replied. “You’re where they will go for advice and comfort. They’ll come to me when they want to do some light scheming and plotting.”

You laughed and nodded in agreement as you stared off into the distance. The thought of a child that was half you, half the boy you loved didn’t seem as scary anymore. The more you talked about it and imagined what it would be like, the more excited you felt to start that chapter in your life.

“It might be kind of fun to have a kid running around.” You admitted. “One that you and I get to raise and watch grow. I always thought I’d have a kid one day. I didn’t think it would be this soon, but maybe May was right. Maybe this is what was meant to happen.”

“Maybe it was.” Peter agreed. “Maybe this is exactly when this was supposed to happen.”

“It’s gonna be a lot of sleepless nights, though.” You added when you found yourself romanticizing all the good parts of being a parent and none of the bad.

“Oh, totally. I heard it’s terrible the first few weeks. You don’t sleep at all.”

“God. I do not want that.” You laughed and rolled your eyes a little.

“Me either. It’ll be brutal.” Peter groaned and you nodded in agreement. You knew you had to consider how hard this would all be, but all you could think about was the cute baby clothes you’d get to dress your kid up in.

“I heard babies heads smell really good, though.” Peter said after you had sat in silence for a moment.

“Me too. I used to have a babydoll that’s head smelled really good. Like cake.” You smiled at the memory.

“Cake baby.” Peter replied, making you chuckle softly. You were starting to get a little too excited about the idea of this baby and had to bring yourself back down to earth.

“They smell really bad too, though.” You added. “And that’ll make us smell bad because we’re gonna be the ones who have to deal with all the throw up and poop.”

“You’re right. Ugh, I am not looking forward to that.” Peter blew out a breath. “We’re gonna have to change dirty diapers for the next few years of our lives. I worked in a daycare one summer and the diapers are never ending. And we’re probably gonna live in a super small place because that’s all we can afford and the whole thing is gonna smell like a dumpster.”

“Gross.” You grimaced and remembered why getting pregnant this young was a bad idea.

You put your bowl down once you finished the fruit and got into the bed. You stared up at the glow in the dark stars on Peter’s ceiling as he got in beside you and shut off the light.

“Would you hope for a girl or a boy?” You asked and rolled over to face him.

“Girl.” He said immediately.

“Really? Why?”

“Because. Imagine having another little you running around. Only she’d grow up with unrelenting love and support from us. She’d be running the world by her 6th birthday.” Peter insisted.

“What would we name her?” You asked through a smile as you imagined the little girl.

“Matilda.” He answered.

“Matilda? Like the movie?”

“Not just any movie.” He prefaced. “The greatest movie of all time.”

“I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled and rolled back onto your back.

“What would you want?” He asked you.

“A boy. For the same reason. Another little you. And all those adorable little bow ties and sweater vests I see at Target. Imagine our baby in a newsboy hat and little suspenders. Ugh. I want a baby every time I pass that aisle.”

“Okay, but tiny little girl dresses? With matching bows? Imagine wearing a matching dress with your daughter to a party.” Peter said to challenge you.

“That is adorable. I would love that, actually.” You agreed and looked over at him. Peter stared into your eyes and felt less scared about the uncertain future.

“What are you thinking?” You asked and pushed some hair off his forehead.

“So many things.” Peter admitted through a chuckle.

“Me too. But I feel less panicked than I did when we first found out. The pit in my stomach feels more like butterflies now.”

“I know we have a lot to learn but I don’t feel scared anymore. I’m kinda, I don’t know, happy. Is that weird?”

“You know what? So am I. As long as we have each other, what’s the worst that could happen?” You asked.

“We could raise a brat that grows up to be a menace to society.” Peter said and instantly regretted it when you looked at him in horror.

“Oh no. You’re right. I don’t know how to teach someone to be a good person from scratch. What if our kid ends up one of those annoying kids who screams when they don’t get their way?”

“Or worse. What if our kid is the kid who says they weren’t even playing when they’re found in hide and seek? Even though they were totally playing but can’t stand to lose.” Peter cringed.

“I hated those kids.” You whispered.

“I did too. But what made them that way? I’m guessing it was their parents but how? How do we make a kid happy without raising them to expect to always get their way?”

“I have no idea.” You sighed. “And I don’t want a kid who can’t eat without watching an IPad but I also don’t want to have to listen to crying all day. What’s the balance?”

“Is there one?”

“I don’t know. Oh God, Peter. I don’t know anything.” You realized and began to panic again. You laid in silence for a while as your minds ran wild. You were both busy thinking of every annoying kid you knew in your childhood and wondered how they became that way.

“Imagine they’re a good kid, though. What if our kid is the one that sits with the kid who’s sitting alone? Or makes a circle bigger to include everybody in the conversation? You do things like that. I do too. What if they’re a good person that we can both step back and be proud of?” Peter asked into the night. You felt a tear roll down your cheek and slid into your ear as you stared at the stars on the ceiling.

“What if I’m not capable of raising a kid like that? What if I’m too young and inexperienced to teach someone else how to be good?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. I think you’ll be a great mom.” Peter said and sat up to look at you. You stared into his eyes and smiled a little.

“You’ll be a great dad.” You said quietly. He smiled and bent down to kiss you before laying his head back on the pillow.

“What do you think my dad’s gonna say?” You wondered. “How’s he gonna take it?” “

“Probably not great. And then he’s probably gonna take a bat to my head.” Peter replied, making you laugh at the honesty.

“My parents are gonna be so disappointed in me.” You sighed. “They’re gonna think I’m so irresponsible for this. What if they kick me out?”

“Then we don’t need them.” Peter said simply. “Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll always have each other. And once your parents see our squishy and adorable baby, they’ll have to forgive us. No one can stay mad at a squishy baby.”

“You know what? You’re right. We’re not teenagers. This isn’t exactly what we planned but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe this will be okay.”

“I think it will be. I don’t know anything about raising a baby but I know that I love you. And that I can’t wait to do this with you. There’s no one else I’d rather be starting a family with.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Really.” Peter assured you.

“Okay. You’re right.” You decided. “Whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay. We’re in this together.”

“We’re gonna have a cake baby.” Peter said with an excited smile.

“Cake baby!” You laughed and leaned into his side. Peter wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

You fell asleep that night with your mind at ease. When you woke up, you accidentally knocked a few books onto the floor. You sat up and looked around at the sea of baby books that Peter had put on the bed. He was sitting up as well and reading a book with a pregnancy bump on the cover.

“Morning, honey.” Peter turned away from his book to smile at you.

“Good morning. What is all this?” You laughed sleepily and picked up one of the books.

“Just some light reading.” He chuckled as well. “I went to the library this morning to get some books for expecting parents. I would’ve taken you with me but I wanted to let you sleep in since you’re making life in your body and all that.”

“Aw, wait. That’s so sweet of you, P. And incredibly crazy to think about.” You said and lifted your shirt to look at your stomach. It was hard to imagine that there was a person growing in there.

“That’s not the only crazy thing. These books are insane. Did you know babies can’t have water until they’re at least 6 months old?”

“No, I didn’t know that. Wow. You learned that in there?” You asked and curiously picked up one of the books.

“There are so many interesting things I didn’t know in here. I checked out as many as they’d let me so that we could start reading up.” Peter explained as you flipped through one of the books. You touched one of the pictures of a mother holding her baby and then touched your stomach.

“This is perfect, Peter. Thank you.” You smiled sincerely and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s the least I could do. You’re the one doing the hard part. I also asked May to help us find a good doctor. She said we should make an appointment for an ultimate sound soon.” He smiled back.

“It’s ultrasound.” You corrected with a chuckle.

“Oh. Right.” He laughed as well. “See? I’m learning already.”

“You are. And I’m proud of you. But this is a lot of information to read.” You sighed as you scanned the sea of books on the bed.

“It is.” He agreed. “But we’re two people. And a lot of this stuff repeats between the books. I’ve read about cradle cap six times already.”

“Ew. What’s that?”

“I’d tell you but you haven’t eaten yet.” Peter mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Speaking of eating, I would love to do that right now.”

“Of course. You’re eating for two now.” Peter’s said and got out of the bed. Before you could respond, he scooped you up and carried you to the kitchen.

“Peter. I can walk.” You laughed as he gently set you down in a seat.

“I know. But I don’t want you to slip and fall and have our baby come out with a flat head or something.”

“I don’t even think they have a head yet.” You pointed out. “I’m pretty sure the baby is just a blob in my uterus right now.”

“Don’t call our child a blob. They’ll hear you.” Peter whispered.

“Will they?”

“They could. Now can pregnant people eat cereal?” Peter’s asked as he read the side of a box of Reese’s Puffs.

“I’m pretty sure they can.” You chuckled.

“Okay. Then this should be safe.” Peter nodded and poured some into a bowl for you to eat. You thanked him as he sat beside you at the table.

“I hope our kid doesn’t play sports because I really don’t want to sit through games for the next 18 years of my life.” Peter said once you were both eating.

“Maybe they’ll be like you and be a total nerd with no extracurricular activities.” You teased.

“As long as they’re not a band kid like their mama.” He mumbled.

“Watch yourself.” You warned. As you ate breakfast, you discussed all the little hopes and fears you had for your future kid. Peter theorized that the kid would be into science but you saw them being more artistic. Peter was sure you were going to have a genius kid but you imagined them more as a kid who wasn’t a natural at anything but tried their hardest at everything. The more you debated what your future kid would be like, you more excited you felt to meet them.

You and Peter decided to give yourselves a week before telling your family about the baby. In that time, you became fully confident in your decision to keep the baby. Throughout the week, you and Peter read up on baby books and spent countless hours watching mommy bloggers online to begin to prepare yourselves. You swung by Peters apartment one morning to pick him up before going to tell your parents together.

“You ready to go?” You asked Peter.

“Wait one second.” He said and disappeared into his room. When he came back, he had a yellow gift bag with some crumpled tissue paper poking out.

“For you.” He smiled proudly and handed you a bag.

“What’s this?” You asked as you reached into the bag. You pulled out a pair of little black converse, fit for a baby.

“Well, we don’t know if we’re having a girl or a boy yet but I know you love your converse, so.” He said sheepishly. You stared at the little shoes in your hands and felt your eyes well up with tears.

“Can you believe anyone’s foot can be this small?” You asked and held the baby sneaker up.

“Our kids foot is gonna be in there.” Peter said proudly and rubbed your arms up and down.

“We made a foot.” You whispered in disbelief.

“We made a kid.”

“With a foot.” You squeaked in excitement and shook the little shoe.

“Hopefully with two.” He chuckled.

“These are so cute. Thank you.” You put the shoes down and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you back for a long time and slowly swayed back and forth.

“You’re welcome. You ready to go tell your parents?” He asked once you pulled out of the hug.

“I guess so. Let me just pee first.” You said and went into the bathroom. Peter went on his phone to pass the time but noticed you were in there for awhile. Once twenty minutes had gone by and he hadn’t heard any sound from the bathroom, he knocked on the door.

“Honey? You okay in there?” He asked you. You unlocked the door and opened it so you could peak your head out a little.

“I got it.” You said with a sad smile.

“Got what?” Peter wondered. You took a deep breath but didn’t let your forced smile falter.

“I just got my period.” You told him and watched him carefully for a reaction. Peters eyebrows went up and he threw on a smile to match yours since he didn’t know how he should be feeling with that news.

“Oh.” He said and nodded his head.

“Mhm.” You nodded as well and blinked a few times to fight back the tears that were threatening your eyes. You didn’t know why you felt as emotional as you did, but at least you had your period to blame.

“That’s great, right? That means you’re not pregnant.” Peter said and kept his forced smile. He knew he should he relieved, but he felt disappointed. He just didn’t want you to know that.

“Yeah. It’s great. Now we don’t have to tell my parents anything. Because I’m not gonna have a baby.” You said and tried to force a laugh but it came out like more of a whimper.

“Honey?” Peter asked softly when he saw you fighting back tears.

“I’m not gonna have a baby.” You whispered and started to cry. Peter pulled you into his arms and let you cry into his shoulder until you could speak again.

“You’re sad?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I wanted a baby right now. But I also thought I already had one. I guess I was more excited than I realized.” You said as you wiped your tears with your sleeves.

“I don’t understand. You took that test.”

“I looked it up. A bunch of things can make you have a false positive. I peed on the other test just to see.” You sighed and pulled out the other test you had taken. A big “not pregnant” was displayed on the tiny screen. Peter looked at it for a long time and didn’t understand the way he was feeling. If you had asked him two weeks ago if he wanted a baby, he would’ve laughed and said no way. But now, he felt disappointed that positive had been false. He knew he probably wasn’t ready to be a parent, but the emotional roller coaster of thinking he was about to become one only to be told it wasn’t true left him feeling empty inside. Whatever he was feeling, it seemed like you were feeling it ten times worse. It had hit you a lot harder than you expected and you felt silly for mourning the loss of something you never actually had.

“What are you thinking?” You asked as you studied his face.

“I don’t know how to feel.” He admitted.

“Me either.”

“It’s for the better. We weren’t ready.” He said and shrugged slightly. He didn’t really believe it, but he felt like he needed to make a decision for the both of you on how to feel in that moment.

“Yeah. That’s true. We’re too young. Maybe one day we can try again. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” You nodded and smiled weakly.

“I would’ve been nice, though.” He said after a long beat of silence. Tears slowly filled your eyes as you stared down at the shoes that were not going to be filled.

“Yeah.” You said quietly as you toyed with the laces. “It would’ve been nice.”

Tag list 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

837 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 3 months

Note

I love this so much

Ugh, Whimsical!reader x James (not together yet) where anytime she says something he just has the most lovesick look on his face and Sirius is like “we’ve lost him, boys” but then reader quips back with something about looking at those you’re comfortable and friendly with boosts your seratonin and you’re glad to have James look at you if it makes him happy

Thanks for requesting babe!

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 932 words

“You seem like you’re feeling better today, Remus,” you say, passing him a cup of tea. You give one to Sirius, too, then James. It’s got a couple of little flowers floating on the top, James notices. Adorable.

Remus looks a bit caught offguard. “I am, thanks. How’d you know?”

“Your aura’s looking less gray than usual.”

Sirius snickers. “Just like you to have a gray aura, Moons. Boring.”

You settle on the couch beside James, crossing your legs underneath you. “I don’t think Remus is boring,” you say, voice soft and airy as dandelion fluff. “His color often just looks a tad sapped. It’s bluer today.”

Remus seems to perk up a bit at your appraisal. He does look well, James thinks, but your noticing improves his color even more. Remus doesn’t like being viewed like a helpless, afflicted lamb, and you never have treated him like one, save whatever you put in his tea (it takes a few minutes longer to make than the rest of yours, though James pretends not to notice).

James watches you watching Remus, and his heart gives a happy little throb. You’re so kind, considerate in ways which you play off as incidental, but he can see the effort you put into taking care of the people in your life. He doesn’t know how you know half the things you do, but you’re always looking out for them. He’ll be waiting for Sirius to come home late at night and you’ll text to ask if everything is okay, or Remus will be having one of his worse days and you’ll show up unannounced with chocolates and juniper bound with twine to “cleanse” their flat, whatever that means. Or when James was sick with the flu a few weeks ago, and Remus and Sirius both swore they hadn’t said a word to you but he’d woken from a nap to find you sitting beside him with soup and a very strong elderberry tea. He’s fairly sure your presence had healed him just as much as the sustenance. You have that effect on him.

“Do we all have auras?” Sirius asks, and James comes out of his reverie to find his friend watching him with a poorly concealed smirk. He supposes he’s had that look on his face again. Lovestruck.

“Of course.” You give Sirius a funny smile, like this should be obvious. “Everyone has an aura,” you say, “we just can’t all see it all of the time.”

“What’s yours look like?” James asks.

Your lips part in surprise as you turn to look at him, your knee bumping his thigh. “I can’t see my own. I’d have to ask someone else.”

“What about mine?” Sirius asks.

You turn back to him. James feels the loss. “Right now, it’s mostly orange.”

“Right now?”

“Yours shifts a lot. A couple of minutes ago, it was pinker.” You tilt your head, considering. “You’re very sunset-y today, Sirius.”

Sirius grins, and James knows that whatever his friend may think about auras, he’s going to carry that compliment with him for the rest of the week. “And what about our Jamesie? What’s his aura like?”

“Oh, James’ almost never changes.” You look over at him with a small smile on your face. Maybe James is flattering himself, but he feels as though there’s a faintly secretive quality to it, like some part of your smile is just for him. “His is always yellow. Though I have been noticing a bit more red than usual lately.”

James isn’t sure he can speak with your eyes on him like this. You’re so lovely it’s choking him. Thankfully, Remus comes to his aid.

“Is that a good thing?” he asks. “It shifting, I mean.”

You don’t turn away from James like he expects you’re going to. You hold his gaze, that smile broadening just slightly. It has all the soft radiance of moonlight.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “It’s not making him any less himself, it only means that something has changed.”

“Good god,” Sirius stage-whispers to Remus. “Look at him, we’ve lost him completely. Bet it gets redder every time he looks at her.”

“It does, a little.” Your eyes flit upwards, presumably to colors which he can’t see but he imagines his face is starting to match. “It might be the serotonin boost. Looking at people you care about will do that.” You set a hand on top of his, thumb stroking over the knuckle of his pinkie finger. James’ mouth is a desert. “I’m happy to have James look at me if it makes him happy.”

Sirius lets out a short laugh. “I’m sure it does, sweetheart. He’s—”

Remus must elbow him, because he goes blessedly silent.

“I’ve been wondering,” Remus says mildly, “do you give us different kinds of tea? They always look different from each other.”

“Oh, yes.” You finally break your gaze away from James’, but your hand stays atop his. It’s hardly a whisper of a touch, and yet he’s very concerned you’re somehow absorbing every thought and feeling he’s having through some freaky osmosis. It doesn’t seem wholly out of the realm of possibility for you. “I make them with different ingredients for each of you.”

Sirius quirks an eyebrow. “In that case, can I try a new one next time? This one tastes a bit like dirt.”

You shrug, nonplussed. “If you like, but it might not do as much for you.”

“What do you put in them?” Remus asks curiously.

You take a sip of your own tea. “Just what you need.”

1K notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Halley (Part 1)

word count: 2424

warnings: mentions of violence, minor injury, shouting

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

requests are open and part 2

The secret mission

6th of January 1980

“I’m telling you moony. There’s no way that happened. This is a very me situation, and I’m sure that this is a death eater trap.” The protection wards didn’t let them get any closer to the house while apparating. Sirius had taken a fancy to saying ‘me’ instead of serious, it annoyed many people.

During the most recent Order meeting Dumbledore had shared some crucial information, information that he needed to know more of; hence, Remus and Sirius’ current adventure. Dumbledore had thought that Sirius would be best fit. Remus was there as well to reel him in because it wasn’t possible for James to go. If James and Sirius went together, it would be nothing short of chaotic.

“Dumbledore said that he was trustworthy, and you trust Dumbledore, don’t you?” Remus said, as he watched in distaste as his boot sank slightly in the grass with each step he took. They were going to make a mess of the house, to his right, Sirius’ boots were covered in mud too. He grumbled in response, “I trust Dumbledore, I just don’t trust him.”

There were waves in front of them, waves unrelated to the sea waves surrounding the island they're on, but from the shielding charm in front of them. It felt as if they were in the desert with what it looked like, they weren’t told about shielding charms. “He’s still your brother-” Remus said, he took his wand out of his belt loop, “...wands out.”

They went through the charm much like how they would go through the Hogwarts train platform. The serious look on Remus’ face was interrupted by a beautiful yellow butterfly landing on his nose. He tried to look at it, he had a comical expression on his face as he did so.

It was a beautiful cottage covered in greenery. It seemed like the place where pixies would live. The cottage was nearly blanketed in greenery, and there were rows of roses, daffodils, and dandelions surrounding it. Sirius could faintly make out what looked like a swing from behind one corner of the cottage.

There were butterflies, lots of them. They matched the flowers and the sky. It seemed like a fairytale-like place, they couldn’t believe its beauty. That’s why they tightened their grip on their wands. Appearances can be deceiving and from what they knew about Regulus Black this was very unlike him.

The door of the cottage swung open. The butterflies resting on the dandelions closest to the door, flew away. Regulus stood looking at them with bright eyes and a wide smile. Sirius couldn’t recognise his brother. The non-stoic expression made him look different. He noticed that his shoulders weren’t stiff, his eyebrows weren’t furrowed and he wasn’t wearing a suit.

He was wearing loose pants, he didn’t look like himself. The shirt was white, and the sun gave them a glimpse of what looked like bandages underneath. They paid no mind to it. There was something odd about his walk. Perhaps it’s him not walking like he was superior to everyone around him, but it could easily be limping. Whether it was or not, he didn’t look pained. He looked carefree.

“Dumbledore told me you’d come tomorrow.” He said, surprised. He seemed pleased by the intrusion, and not at all put off by the wand pointed at his chest. This was not like him. This was not like him at all. He was bright, and bright was not a word used to describe Regulus Black.

“Why don’t you come in? We have some things we need to sort out.” He walked back into the house and left the door open. The wands were back in their places, but Remus and Sirius still gravitated a hand near them just in case.

The cottage was small, and humble. It had bright colours and looked nothing like Grimmauld Place 12, nothing like what ‘Regulus Black’ would live in. Regulus walked in front of them at a slow pace, they started thinking that maybe the sun wasn’t playing tricks. Regulus motioned for them to sit on the couch in front of a counter. He leaned on it, more than he normally should’ve.

The tea started boiling. Nothing looked magical in the cottage besides its outside appearance. Regulus’ wand was nowhere in sight. Finally, their hands could gravitate away from their wands. “So, what do you think of the place?”

“It’s uh, it's great.” Remus replied, the pleasantries wasn’t something he was familiar with especially when it came from who it was coming from. He looked beside him and Sirius’ eyes were void of emotion. Despite that, his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Seems like a great place for a kid, huh?” Regulus asked. He needed no reply. Remus’ expression matches Sirius’. Kid? “How many spoons of sugar?” He started setting the cups as he saw smoke coming out from the boiler. Remus raised his hands forming a number two and Sirius raised half it.

They were handed the cups of tea and a look of realisation took over Regulus’ face. “Oh! I have to give you what Dumbledore wanted.” He said, and he rushed out of the room. At least they assumed it was the room, from what they saw, there were barely any doors in the cottage.

“Are you actually going to drink the tea?” Sirius asked when he saw Remus raise the cup to his lips. “It could have poison or something worse.” He added, and he received an unamused expression.

“We saw him make it.” Remus said, shortly. “How do we know that the sugar isn’t a weird potion ingredient?” It was a good thing that Sirius never got a reply because it wouldn’t have been a nice one. Regulus entered with a locket in his gloved hand. It was green and it had a large ‘S’ on the front. It seemed off. It unnerved them.

“I’m sure Dumbledore told you about my theory.” Regulus said. He was holding the locket with a cloth as well. Remus took out a box that he had in his bag, and he opened it. Regulus placed the locket gently in the bag and Remus zipped it up. “Don’t touch it with your hands. I don’t know what it could do, if you did.”

“So, Horcruxes?” Sirius said, the first words he’s said to his brother in three years. Regulus knew this. He nodded, “I think it's why Voldemort is so confident. In the meetings-” Regulus was a death eater, they knew this. “He always acted like death isn’t something that could catch up with him-”

“Maybe he meant that he could not be defeated?” Sirius interrupted. Regulus shook his head and settled on the counter with his long legs dangling in front of it. They didn’t miss the wince that came along with the action.

“No, it’s not. I did some research, and- Kreacher helped. He has horcruxes. They have to be a lot because he’s not dumb to rely on only one. The snake is one of them, and that locket-'' He pointed to Remus’ bag. “It’s one of them too.”

“We have to destroy it, why are we wasting time?” Remus asked. Regulus shook his head, “Horcruxes are a part of a person’s soul. He would definitely feel if a part of his soul got destroyed, and right now, we have the upper hand. He doesn’t suspect that we know a thing. We can use it to our advantage.”

“Do you know anything else?” Unlike Remus, Sirius still has not become comfortable with the person opposite to them. He said all his words accusingly. Regulus didn’t mind, in fact, he seemed like he was happy with any words from his brother directed to him.

“They’re guarded.” He stated. His hand went up to his stomach subconsciously, to cover it up. He was most definitely covering up his bandages. Remus couldn’t resist anymore, “What happened to you?”

“As I said, they’re guarded. This one-” he referred once again to the locket, “was guarded by infiri. I didn’t know that.” He didn’t need to explain anymore. Remus and Sirius’ eyes widened. Infiri? How did he even survive? How did he survive and is strong enough to now be making them tea?

“We need to be prepared.” Regulus said. He wanted to move on from the topic quickly. Sirius regained his composure and charged, “How do we know that you are with us, and that this isn’t some death eater thing? That you’re not setting us up?”

Regulus wasn’t fazed. He hooked his fingers together and he set them on his lap. “I’ve got a lot to lose if this doesn’t work out?” His replies were calm, one thing hasn’t changed about him.

“Like what?” Sirius added.

“Capella Halley,” Regulus replied, as if it was obvious.

“Who?” For the first time, Regulus looked hurt. The hurt faded into anger. It seemed as though he was about to burst out at his brother’s reply when a loud thud was heard. Regulus wasted no time in rushing up the stairs as quickly as he could. They heard his grunts as he ran up.

Remus and Sirius sat in their places. The entire interaction was odd. Sirius mouthed to Remus the name that Regulus said in question. Remus shrugged his shoulders. “Girlfriend?” Remus offered in a low voice.

Regulus came rushing down the stairs, and he had a small girl in his arms. She looked no older than six. There were tears streaming down her face and there were scrapes on her left knee. He set her down on the counter. Regulus cupped her small face and he wiped her tears with his thumbs. He straightened her dress too.

“Lupin, could you come here and heal this?” Regulus gestured to her knee. Remus nodded and stood up. He walked towards the little girl and he started muttering the healing spells. “What happened?” Regulus asked the little girl in a soft voice.

“I was trying to get the pencils, but I fell.” She said sniffing in between her words. Regulus pressed a kiss to her head and she put on a small smile. Regulus turned to his brother, and he had only fury in his eyes, “This is Capella Halley. Your little sister. I know you’re not a good sibling, but knowing that you have one is the bare minimum.”

His words were laced with venom. Sirius looked beyond surprised and so did Remus. In their sixth year, they had heard something along those lines, but being so close to Sirius running away, they assumed it was an attempt to get him back to Grimmauld Place 12. Now that he thought about it, he realised that there could be no possible gain behind inventing a little sister.

Capella’s knee was perfectly fine. She had a smile on her face and she said, “Thank you.” Remus nodded, and his face flushed when she said, “You’re pretty.”

She tried to hop off the counter, but Regulus caught her. He set her on the floor and gave her a stern look. She giggled and she ran up the stairs once again. “Wait Capella! I’ll get you the pencils.”

Regulus winced when he tried to run behind her and his hand flew to his stomach. Remus set a hand on his shoulder and he said, “I’ll get them for her. You sit down.” He walked behind the little girl and went up the stairs.

“How was I supposed to know I have a little sister?” Sirius said with his arms folded. Regulus glared at him. Sirius rolled his eyes, but he knew there were many ways he would've known. “Why is she even here? Shouldn’t she be with Walburga?”

“No one should be with Walburga. Much less that angel.” Regulus replied. There was finally something both brothers agreed on. “She deserves the best. One of us has to turn out fine, right?”

He didn’t want a reply. They sat in silence and Remus came back down. “I gave her the pencils, she’s one artist, isn’t she?” He laughed, and Regulus chuckled. Capella must’ve shown him her art collection. It was a good collection, as much as it could be for someone her age. “How old is she?”

“She’s five.” Regulus replied to the lycanthrope. Remus asked Regulus for an answer to why he is doing this now, why not before this? “I started planning this when Capella was born. She was the most small, fragile thing in this world, and she deserves better than what we had. I had to get her out of there somehow. I always intended to get the Horcrux and head straight to Dumbledore, but I arranged with Kreacher to bring her here. I thought I could raise her until- well, I don’t know for how long,

Now was the perfect time. Orion had just died, which meant that Walburga was too busy grieving to notice the subtle things I did to get ready to get the horcrux. After I saw Voldemort torture people for their blood, the summer of my last year, I realised how wrong and I- I decided that I wanted to change that. When I was getting the locket, I almost drowned. Infiris are terrible creatures, I barely made it out, but I had to for Capella.”

Sirius realised at that moment that he was a terrible brother. He saw Regulus’ love for Capella and he realised he should’ve given the same to Regulus. He didn’t voice his revelation. He didn’t even look as though he had a thought in his head.

“Why don’t you use your wand?” Remus broke the silence. Regulus cleared his throat and he said, “I have a feeling that it has the trace.”

“You’re nineteen.” Remus said, the trace is off once a wizard or witch turns to an adult, at seventeen. “A trace that Walburga put, not the ministry. It needs another person's, and I have no other wands in disposal.”

Regulus stood up again with a grunt and he walked towards the counter. He opened the drawer. He took out his wand, “If I don’t put it in there, Capella will make a mess with it.” He chuckled and he walked towards Remus, slightly asking him to undo the spell.

“So you’re staying with Capella here?” Sirius asked, and Regulus nodded. “Would you- would you mind if I visit some time?” Sirius asked, nervously. Regulus straightened his back, “Not at all, I’m sure Capella would like that.”

5 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Oblivious

Pairing: Ron Weasley + fem!reader

Word count: 937

Summary: You can't find a date for the Christmas party, and you're completely oblivious.

Warnings: being oblivious and negative thoughts, not proofread.

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

I was the best Potions maker in my year, in all of hogwarts if I'm feeling confident that day, so naturally, I'm invited to go to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party that all members of the Slug-club are invited to.

My dilemma was that I had no date. Hermione told me to go alone, but Ron's word from fourth year (no matter how pathetic) echoed into my head. I did not need Ron to think that I'm pathetic.

Harry was also in search of a date, but when I asked him (desperately), he just turned red and fumbled. I assume that the thought of being my date was just so awful, he couldn't stand it.

I thought about asking Ron, but remembering his kiss with Lavender made me feel an ache in my chest. I didn't know what their relationship status was, so I didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

Not even Cormac Mclaggen asked me, and he's asked everyone. I didn't want to go with him, of course, but why was it that no one wanted to be my date.

When the party was only a week away I started to grow desperate. I asked Dean, Seamus, Neville, but none of them agreed. Maybe there was something wrong with me because a few nights before they were all talking about how much they wanted to go, I told Ron about wanting to ask them, then the next day they all told me they weren't available.

Neville was desperate enough to work at the party, but not be my date. Was serving people tiny confections and drinks more tolerable than evening with me?

I had to find a way to deal with the fact that I was simply undateable and that I would have to go to ball on my own. So, naturally, I curled up into my dorm and cried while eating chocolates.

A knock echoes through the dorm room, and I wipe away any excess chocolate that could've been on my mouth, then I allow the person to enter. Ron says, "Are you okay? Hermione said that you've been crying."

He walks to my bed, and I sniffle. He continues, "I was worried, since you know..."

"Since what?" I ask, confused. He just blushes and waves it off. He hesitates before sitting next to me on the bed. He purses his lips then looks around the room awkwardly.

He points to the dress that's hanging against the doorframe of the bathroom, making sure it doesn't wrinkle. It was an amazing dress, the perfect shade of blue that was a perfect mix between elegant and casual. It was perfect for the party.

"Is that the dress you're wearing to the party tomorrow? You'll look beautiful." He says then flushes. My eyes snap to him at the statement. He stutters, "Not that the dress will make you beautiful - you're always stunning."

"Can we not talk about the party?" I groan, rubbing my face with my hands that I checked were chocolate free. Ron inquires, "Is that what this is about? The party."

I groan and lay back into my bed, back spread on the mattress while my legs dangle off it. I confess, "I don't have a date."

Ron copies my position and looks at me. His face turns into a frown. He says, "I'm sure you'll find someone."

"I haven't been able to find someone for weeks."

"I um I am free tomorrow." Ron says, and I reply quickly, "You'll use that time well and finish that potions homework you've got."

Hos frown deepens, but it's true. The only reason why I'm friends with Ron, Harry, and Hermione was because a few years ago, I was told to tutor Ron in potions.

I think back to the fact that I'm dateless and I let out a singular sob. I feel a tear trickle down the side of my cheek as I stare up at the ceiling. I cry, "Is there something wrong with me? Why does no one like me?”

After my confession, I hear a snort from my right. I whip my head to find Ron smiling at me. I frown, why was he smiling at my misery? “Why are you smiling?"

He doesn't reply, but he looks at me like I'm both an idiot and another way that I can't quite place. I ask, "Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so stupid.” He chuckles after a beat, and my frown deepens. Nothing was making sense. What did I say that would make me loom stupid? I pout and ask, “What do you mean?”

“You ask too many questions.” Ron, let's out with a smile. The next thing I know is that he's hovering over me with a hand on my cheek and his lips pressed to mine.

I hold his face and kiss him harder. My heart is beating a hundred miles a minute and my stomach feels like its going to explode. I have a sappy smile on my face before I pull away to mumble, sadly, "What about Lavender?"

"What about her?" Ron replies, holding himself up by his forearms that are on either side of me. I pout again and say, "You two kissed."

"That was nothing. I pushed her away afterwards." Ron says, and he looks confused. I smile, knowing that him and Lavender aren't a thing. I say, "Never mind, just keep kissing me."

And he does. He whispers against my lips, "You taste like chocolate." He continues to kiss me like his life depended on it.

I guess I do have a date after all.

a/n: I think that this is one of my favourite confessions I've ever written, I think it's adorable. Also, I'm aware that the GIF is the dinner party, not the Christmas party, but I couldn't find any other relevant ones.

92 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Halley (prologue)

a/n: Hey! I'm so excited for this new series! I'm going to be making an entire second 'book' for this one, but only when I'm done with this one, so be aware. I really hope you like this series, I believe it feels sorta different than my other ones.

word count: 213 (it's a tiny one ik)

warnings: mentions of violence, leaving home, Orion and Walburga Black (yes, that deserves a warning of it's own)

requests are open

part 1

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Prologue

23rd of december 1974

That day holds significance; it is the day that Walburga and Orion Black realised that their eldest son will never be what they want him to be, as well as the day that Regulus Black realised that his brother might actually, truly hate him.

That was the day of the annual House of Black held Christmas party, a day to celebrate pureblood mania and fanatics with the ones that love it the most. That year Sirius Black scorned all Slytherin prejudiced purebloods during the Christmas dinner. A few hours later, for the first time, Grimmauld Place 12 heard his agonising, piercing screams throughout its halls.

Sirius Black swore to himself as he twitched on the kitchen’s floor in pain that if the curse ever found its way to him again, he would leave the Noble House of Black and never return. He, like his parents, had hope for change. A hope that was demolished after that night.

Much like their son, Walburga and Orion made a decision themselves. They produced an heir, thus if anything happened to their other -truly- perfect son, there would be another to take his place.

The year after, Regulus had become the official heir as well as a brother to his little sister.

2 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Potions Partners (The final part)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + fem!reader

word count: 2821

Warnings: the ending, mentions of death, FLUFF, an emotional author's note at the end

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck feel free to check out my masterlist where you can also find all the parts to this series.

Requests are open

The chatter is too loud to her ears, and she can hear some shouts along with some whispers. She can hear a loud voice as she blinks her eyes open, feeling the bright light penetrate her eyes, causing her to frown. She hears her brother’s voice say, pointedly, “I told you to give her a bit.”

“She was dead, and you’re unreliable.” Draco, she recognises

“Unreliable? says the death eater.”

“I’ve never gotten revenge for all those cuts you gave me, you better watch your back-”

“Stop bickering!” Hermione

“Is there any food here?” Ron asks, and she hears a slap, she assumes it’s Hermione scolding him. She opens her eyes and around her in a circle is Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco. She sees them all smiling and she frowns, “What are all of you so happy about?”

“You’re alive.” Draco says, happily. She feels him squeeze her hands, comfortingly. She sees Harry glare at him and he folds his hands over his chest. Harry says, in a know-it-all tone that he’s surely picked up from Hermione, “I told you she would.”

“What happened?” She says, sitting up, feeling her head swirl around her. Hermione was the only one being helpful, lifting her head up and supporting it with a pillow from behind her back. She sends her friend a grateful smile. Harry said, “You died then came back, just like I knew you would.”

Harry sends Draco a pointed look at the end of his sentence. Draco rolled his eyes and instead focused on observing her, marvelling at her with loving eyes. She frowns, confused, “How?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later when you’re not just back from the dead, but long story short, I died and came back and since we’re connected, you kind of just had an extra life lying around and you used it up, so no funny business.” Harry explains, and she nods her head in understanding.

“Is he gone?” she asks, talking about Voldemort and grins break out on all their faces. Hermione nods her head, and a smile breaks out on Y/N’s face. She resists the urge of letting the tears of joy come out. Draco smiles and gives her a peck, not being able to resist her cute smile. Harry exclaims, “Woah, woah, woah. Stop with the public displays of affection-”

“I swear to Merlin, Potter, I will kill you right now, and you won’t be coming back.” Draco threatens, standing up, gripping his wand. Y/N’s eyes widen and she grasps Draco’s hand, taking his wand out of his hand, and grounding him next to her. She sighs, “Why are you two bickering this much?”

“Your brother was being an insensitive idiot.”

“Your boyfriend was being a whiny git.”

They both say at the same time then throw glares at each other glares. She ignores them both and turns to her sane friend and asks her, “Hermione, would you care to explain?”

“When you died, Draco got all sad which is valid, but Harry was still bossing him around telling him to fight or do something rather than cry over your corpse. Harry kept telling Draco that you would come back, but he didn’t believe him so he turned his nose into a pig’s nose.” Hermione explains, helpfully. Y/N sees Harry rubbing his nose sadly while Draco looks smug.

She looks around and doesn’t notice their surroundings. Her face comforts into confusion as she notices the weird appearance of the room. The walls are a neutral colour, but the dresser, closet and door were black. On the side of the room there was a bookshelf and on the other side there was a collection of records. She recognised them as her favourite records. She asks, “Where are we?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione look at Draco who is a blushing mess. Draco looks to the floor and Hermione places each of her hands on one of the boy’s shoulders. She says, “Let’s leave them to it, boys.”

Ron and Harry leave the room behind Hermione, but not before Harry turns and gives Draco a glare. Draco doesn’t pay him any mind and he grinds his teeth over each other anxiously. The door closes and she looks at him expectantly. He stutters, “Uh, r-remember a while after we broke up, after divination when I told you that I needed to talk to you.”

She goes through her memories and nods her head. His blush turns a darker shade of red. She holds his hand in hope that it would bring him comfort, but instead it makes him more shy. He gives her a nervous smile as he continues, “Professor Trelawney told me that she made a prophecy and that we would end up together.”

Her eyes widened at the declaration and he continued, “Well, after you didn’t talk to me, I kind of had a lot of time to myself. I had hope that we would get back together, and uh you know- spend the rest of your lives together, so I splurged a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bought us a house, this house.” Draco said, quickly, some part of him hoping that she wouldn’t hear the words properly. Her eyes widen and he rubs his hands over his face. He groans, “I know, I know, I’m moving too fast, but in my defence, everyone in my family got engaged at seventeen- not that this is a proposal because when I do propose, it’ll be much more romantic-”

He cuts himself off when she reaches a hand to hold his face. She gives him a smile, and it’s loving and humorous. She lets out a chuckle and says, “Draco…it’s okay. Calm down.”

He exhales loudly and he nods his head. She kisses him, and she can feel him smile against her lips. It doesn’t last for long, but when they pull apart, she brings her bottom lip between her teeth, and she says, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment or anything, but I don’t think I’m ready to get engaged any time soon. Can you wait?”

“Darling, I was made for you. I’d wait as long as you’d like me to.” he says, and her heart flutters at his words. She waits a few moments then she says, “I might not be ready for that, but how do you feel about adopting a kid?”

“Uhh”

***

“Teddy, I swear to merlin, I will take away your broom, if you don’t come down here this second!” She shouts at him and he comes down the stairs with two big suitcases in each of his hands. He drags them down the stairs, causing loud thuds every time.

She huffs at the loud noise and folds her arms in front of her chest. Teddy finally sets his suitcases on the ground but looks to find out that he’s being looked at disapprovingly. She taps her foot on the ground and says, “What do you need two suitcases for?”

“To carry all my things because you’re giving me away.” he says with a fake pout that he uses on Draco all the time to get what he wants. She rolls her eyes and places the suitcases on the ground. The opens both of them up and finds that they’re both filled with only toys and books, no clothes except for one pair of underpants. She looks at him with a glare and he gives her a nervous smile. She huffs as she takes out the numerous toys, “We’re not giving you away, you’re going to live with Harry for a month then you’ll be back here with us.”

“I don’t get why you’re leaving for a month.” Teddy grumbles as he helps take out the toys from the suitcase only leaving the toys that he absolutely needed, same for the books. The front door opens and Draco says, “Because I’m taking Y/N on a vacation.”

“Why?” Teddy asks, as he goes to Draco. Draco just came back from work, sending in a notice that he won’t be able to work at the hospital for a month. Draco ruffles Teddy’s blue hair, and he lifts him up in his arms. He answers, “Because we got married.”

“Why?”

“Because we love each other, and she finally decided to day yes-”

She looks up at him, standing up. Pointing her wand at the no longer needed objects sending them up back to Teddy’s room. She interrupts her husband and rolls her eyes, “you didn’t wait that long.”

“I’ve waited for seven years!” he says, exasperated. “Everyone got married before us! But it’s fine, we did it now, no use crying over spilt milk.” Teddy giggles at Draco’s emotional rollercoaster of a monologue then he squirms a bit, making Draco set him back down.

“Okay, Teddy, go upstairs and get some actual clothes. And only one suitcase.” She orders him and Teddy groans, angrily, stomping his foot then storming up the stairs. Draco wraps his arms around her from behind holding her hand over her stomach. He plays with their wedding bands and his green ring that’s still on her finger, except now it’s moved a finger. Draco whispers, “You’re too harsh on him.”

“I am not.” she replies, sternly and she turns around to give his shoulder a light slap. He looks at her endearingly and he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I like the kid.”

“I like him too, but the only reason you like him is because he’s like you!” she says, and presses her pointer to his shoulder. He raises his hands up, in surrender, but his lips form a smirk, knowing that she’s completely correct. She seethes, “You spoil him!”

“I like the kid.” he repeats again, knowing that it’s going to get him nowhere. She rolls her eyes, and says, “It took Andromeda a lot of convincing to show her that Teddy would be in good hands, and you went and ruined him with your gifts. What type of seven year old has a broom and a mini quidditch pitch in their backyard!”

“The type that I helped raise, my love.” he says, and he pulls her closer to him by her waist. He presses a kiss to her forehead and her frustration melts away. He whispers, “You should start packing, my wife. Did you tell the ministry that you’ll be taking time off?”

“I just told Hermione to inform my boss.” she says, playing with his tie. He hums satisfied, and he presses a loving peck to her lips. He plays with a strand of her hair, saying, “I hear France is lovely-”

“You would know, you’ve been there before-”

“Hush, my darling.” he interrupts her, pressing a finger to her lips. She reaches out to bite it away from her lips, but by now all of her reactions have become predictable and he moves his fingers away quickly, setting his hand on her cheek. He continues, undeterred, “We’ll spend a whole month together, alone, uninterrupted-”

“I like the sound of that.” she says, and he grins, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. They were interrupted by a scream. Teddy was standing with his clothes on the floor, he presumably dropped them, with his hands over his eyes. He shouts, “Couldn’t you have waited a few more minutes till Harry was here to take me?!”

“Now, now, Teddy, stop overreacting. It’s fine.” Draco says, taking a step away from Y/N in order for Teddy to feel more comfortable. Teddy raises a finger away from his eyes and looks at them, sceptically. He then takes his hands away from his eyes. He picks up his clothes from the ground and places them in the yellow bag he has.

Teddy had nearly two of everything. One yellow, and one red, each to represent a colour of his parents’ house. Draco always internally wanted him to be a Slytherin like him, that he would rub off on Teddy enough for that to happen. Y/N always knew he would be a Hufflepuff. They had a bet. If Teddy was a Slytherin, Y/N would do anything Draco liked for a whole day, but if Y/N won, Draco would have to take her on a trip.

The clothes Teddy brought weren’t nearly enough for a month, he loves to play which meant that he goes through clothes pretty fast. She looks at Teddy and asks, “Is that all the clothes you’ve got?”

“No, I’ve got more. I’ll bring them down.” he says, shaking his head. He takes a few steps away, heading towards the stairs then he turns around to point at them both, threatening, “You two better be at least five feet apart when I get back.”

He runs up the stairs and Y/N tells him to be careful. Teddy wasn’t down when Harry opens the door to the house and barges in, rudely like a true brother. He has sunglasses on. Teddy loved that Harry was an Auror, he thought he was so cool. Harry always made an effort to make him believe that more.

“Potter.” Draco greets, and Harry takes off his glasses, folding them over his shirt, making them hang there. He quirked an eyebrow at him and replies, “Malfoy.”

“Female Potter-” Harry greets his sister, and Draco tuts as he makes his way towards his wife. He looks at Harry with a smug grin as he wraps his arms around her waist. Harry glared at him before Draco said, “Wrong. It’s Malfoy, now.”

“Y/N Malfoy. Has a lovely ring to it, doesn’t it?” Draco teases Harry, watching as Harry’s eye twitches as his hands stay beside him, fisted. The teasing made her laugh at her brother’s expression, but made her cheeks turn a deep shade of red. They hear Teddy stomping down the stairs, he grumbles, “Hey! What happened to being five feet apart?”

They turn to look at him, making him notice the new person that has appeared behind him. Teddy’s face turns into a grin, and he once again drops his clothes on the floor, causing Y/N to sigh and runs to Harry. Harry lifts Teddy up over his shoulders, holding him by his ankles and for a second mid-lift she was sure Teddy would fall. She took a few steps forward and seethed at Harry, “Be careful.”

“You worry too much, Y/N.” Harry laughs as Teddy starts playing with his hair. Teddy takes Harry’s glasses from his shirt and puts it on his head. They were way too big for him, and it makes him look adorable. Teddy folds his arms over his chest, and repeats in a deeper voice, trying to be more like Harry, “You worry too much, Y/N.”

“Is his bag ready?” Harry asks her before she could scold him, and she looks back to find Draco fixing his bag for him. He hands the yellow suitcase to Harry. Harry hoists it up easily with one hand and he turns around with Teddy still on his shoulders. Y/N said, “Bye Teddy!”

He lifts his hands up to wave at her, and Harry takes a few more steps before Teddy starts shouting and squirming on top of his shoulders, “Wait! Wait! Put me down.”

Harry sets Teddy on the ground and he runs back inside the house. He hugs Y/N first and she wraps her arms around him, tightly. She presses a kiss to his head, and she doesn’t let him go. Teddy struggles for a second before stopping and saying, “It’s Draco’s turn now.”

“Draco can wait.” She says, firmly as she starts patting Teddy’s little head, watching as the blue colour starts to turn to pink, he’s shy. Teddy slips from her grasp by falling to the floor, escaping her tight grip. He gives Draco a hug and Draco ruffles his hair. Teddy waves goodbye another time then he walks out the house.

Teddy gets into the magic car that Mrs Weasley gave Harry as a wedding gift and Y/N watches as they fly away. She sighs, sadly, and Draco goes to wrap his arms around her in a hug from behind. He sways with her from side to side, hoping that it would calm her down. She rests her arms on his own, and he holds his hand.

“You know, you wouldn’t have to worry about him if there was someone else with him, so they could look after each other…” Draco trailed off as his hand moved down to her stomach. She grabbed his hand and pressed a loving kiss on it with a smile. Draco’s face brightened, expectantly before her smile dropped and she patted his hand twice, “I’m not getting pregnant Draco.”

She walks away and he frowns. She climbs up the stairs, planning to start getting her packing done. He could hear her footsteps get distant when he shouts, “It’s fine! I can wait another seven years.”

an: my god. I wrote this a while ago and now I'm editing it also a while before I post it, but, my god, I just love this thing so much, especially this chapter. There were so many times when I thought that this part could be better, but's just the perfectionist in me. I loved writing it from the first chapter to the last chapter, and I hope you loved reading it too. Y/N and Draco broke up and got back together a lot, trust me, I'm aware, but I hope you enjoyed them in both their ups and downs. If you read all the way till the end, I just want to say thank you. I can't believe that this story is over, every time I restart reading it for editing reasons, I get so attached and I feel my heart break every time I reach the end. Once again, I hope you liked reading it as much as I did writing it, and thank you for reaching the end of this journey with me, it's a small journey, but that doesn't mean it meant any less to me.

42 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Potions Partners (Part 20)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + Fem!reader

Word count: 2349

Warnings: fire, dying, death, battle of hogwarts

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

The final part

Requests are open

“That’s my girlfriend, dumb bitch!” Ron runs after Draco, Blaise and Goyle. Y/N bursts into the Room of Requirement and she looks for her brother. She finds him climbing a group of chairs, and she sees the diadem on top of the hill of objects. She climbs it from the other side, hoping to help her brother.

The mountain of items is unstable and she can hear Harry knock down a few things while she manoeuvres through them. Hermione starts climbing too. A group of Pixies storm the place, disorienting her a bit, but she manages to hold onto one of the chairs. “I’ve got it!”

After Harry’s shout, she climbs back down and spins around till she’s next to Harry and Hermione. She hears Ron start screaming and she waits for him to appear. A large, bright orange colour appears from behind him as Ron runs. He grabs Hermione’s hand and they start running in the opposite direction, he screams, “Goyle set the bloody place on fire!”

Harry grabs Y/N’s hand and starts running after Ron and Hermione. A large fiery snape moves after them, surrounding them from every direction. They run as fast as they could, but the fire catches on to them. Harry knocks down a large mountain of items and they stop the fire for a second before it starts again.

The fire engulfs the room from all directions, leading them to all meet at the centre of it. All pathways were blocked and the fire was nearing them. Y/N’s grip on Harry’s hand tightened. A block of flame gets shot at them and Y/N blocks the spell with a shielding field.

The field knocks Ron down and he hits three broomsticks. He throws one to each of them and Hermione rides behind Ron. They climb them quickly and they take to the sky. Y/N hears a scream, and she shouts, “Who else is here?”

“No one, just Malfoy and his gits.” Harry answers, not understanding the implications of his words. Y/N perks up at the mention of his name and she says, “Draco’s here?”

She turns around on her broom quickly and she looks around the room trying to find them. She can hear Ron shout from behind her, telling her that she’s insane. She sees Blaise and Draco on a mountain of stuff that is getting engulfed by the fire by the second.

Blaise’s grip on the chair he’s holding onto is loosened and he starts to fall. Y/N moves quicker and grabs his hand before he can get killed by the fire. Blaise sits down behind her and Draco was about to fall before Harry got to him and he saved him.

They turn around to exit the room and the flames are getting closer and closer to the ceiling. If any of them lowered their legs a bit more, their feet would get burned by the flames. They turn around and quickly start moving. Ron shouts at her, “If we die for them Y/N, I’m going to kill you!”

“I’ll be dead anyway, so you can do whatever you like!” she shouts back at him, and she leans down, making her broom move faster. They dodge the falling objects and the flames, expertly. The perks of having three members of the Gryffindor Quidditch teams, flying the brooms.

The doors of the room are open wide and they all move out. The strength of the flames pushes them all off their brooms and onto the ground. While falling Blaise falls on top of her and it takes them a moment to regain their focus. He lifts himself a tiny bit up and says, “thank you for saving me.”

“It was nothing really.” she says, while he’s still on top of her. Blaise shots her a smile, and someone clears their throat from beside them. She looks to find Harry, Ron and Draco lined up next to each other shooting daggers at Blaise. He quickly climbs off of her and he runs away.

Draco’s the first one to help her up. He pulls her up by her arms, using enough strength to pull her straight to his chest when she’s on her feet. He wraps one arm around her waist and the other cups her face. He whispers, “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” she says, and he gets an odd sense of deja-vu. She smiles as she looks at him, but the moment gets interrupted by Harry falling to the ground. She runs to her brother and she feels a sting herself.

Harry’s eyes turn red then he starts withering on the ground. His eyes turn green again and she waits for him to regain his scenes. He starts gasping and he looks at her and says, “It’s the snake, the last horcrux is the snake.”

She nods her head in understanding. Harry stands up and she says, “I’ll go kill it.”

“No, you can’t.” Draco blurts out quickly and Harry looks at him disgustedly with his top lip quirked up from behind his sister. Draco flushes at the unwanted attention and rubs the back of his neck. He explains, “If she’s within a close distance of Nagini, she’ll die.”

They all look at him questioningly at this new piece of information. He lifts his hand and points at himself. He chuckles nervously, “That was my fault.”

“I’ll find out more about this later.” Y/N tells him sternly and he gives her a nervous smile. Hermione takes a step forwards and Ron mirrors her actions, holding her hand. Shooting her a smile. Hermione says, “We’ll go.”

Harry nods his head and motions for Malfoy to follow him. Draco looks back at Y/N scared, and she pushes him towards her brother. Harry lifts one finger to motion that he’ll be borrowing Draco for a minute. They move a few steps away from Y/N and until Harry’s sure she can’t hear them.

“You love my sister, right?” Harry says, and he gives Draco a glare. Draco nods his head and Harry continues, “There’s something I have to do, but she can’t know because she’ll stop me and get herself killed when she doesn’t need to. If you even care about her, you’ll occupy her, and stop her from finding out.”

Harry doesn’t wait for Draco’s answer and he walks back towards Hermione and Ron. Draco walks to Y/N’s side and she gives him a weak smile that he doesn’t return. He grabs her hand, and squeezes it tightly. Harry whispers something to Ron and Hermione, and she shouts, “Hey! Aren’t I going to be told about what’s going on there?”

Harry lifts his head from the huddle he’s in with Hermione and Ron. He gives Draco a pointed look and Draco realises. He stutters for a moment before he tugs on her hand. Draco says, “Come on, we have to go do something.”

“I can’t leave, Harry.” She says, planting her feet firmly to the ground and she looks back at her brother and friends with a frown. Draco tugs her hand another time and he says the words he’s sure will convince her, “Your brother’s the one that asked me to do this.”

“Okay…” she says, and she lets herself get taken away by him. He leads her to the Great Hall, and when she enters, she sees the groups of bodies laying down on the floor. Her breath hitches in her throat as she sees a group of people with red hair, surrounding something.

She stops walking and grips his hand tighter. If any people were opposed to Draco Malfoy entering the Great Hall, they didn’t show it, noticing her hand wrapped in his. Mrs Weasley lifts her head and notices her. She can see Mrs Weasley tap on George’s shoulder. George lifts his head up and Mrs Weasley points to her.

George sees her and he rushes to meet her. He wraps his arms around her body and her hand falls away from Draco. Draco takes a step back, giving them space. She embraces her friend in a hug, and she can feel his body shaking.

She looks at the Weasleys to find Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy and Ginny. Ron’s outside with Harry which means…Tears prick her eyes at the revelation and she grips her friend tighter, “Oh, George.”

“He’s gone, he’s gone.” George repeats, he couldn’t believe it himself. He lifts his head from her shoulder and she walks to the Weasleys. Tears stream down her face when she recognises Fred’s body, eyes closed. She grips George’s hand tighter.

He sits down on the floor and she sinks next to him. He grips her hand like it’s his life line. He keeps on crying again and again until his eyes dry out. Y/N tries to keep her tears at bay, trying to be strong enough for the both of them. Despite that, a few stray tears fall from time to time.

After some time, the doors of the Great Hall open to reveal two corpses being carried. Y/N turned to see who it was, but George grabbed her shoulder, bringing her attention to him. George said, “Don’t.”

She pushes her hand away and stands up to move to where they set the corpses, and she brings a hand to her mouth as soon as she sees who it is. She starts sobbing as she falls to her knees. In a second, Draco falls beside her, holding her to his chest.

She continues sobbing as she looks at the familiar sight of her god-father on the ground beside his wife, their hands reaching out for each other. All she could think about was poor Teddy, suffering from the same fate she had faced when she was young. Parents killed by Voldemort.

She makes her decision right then and there. Draco moves her gaze away from Remus Lupin’s body and hides her face in his chest. She sobs into his chest and he smooths his hand over head. She holds his shirt and tugs it down.

It all happened so quickly after that. Her body falls limp and her eyes turn red. She falls to the ground and she starts withering in Draco’s arms. She could faintly hear Draco’s distant voice, distressed, calling out for help.

The memories flashed through her brain. She sees Remus, Sirius, her mom and dad. She sees Harry talking to them all, and then she sees herself walking to Woldemort and she hears Voldemort’s snake-like voice say, “Harry Potter, the boy who lived come to die.”

Panic courses through her veins before she sees a flash of green and then her vision gets cut off. She gasps and her chest heaves as she regains her senses. Madame Pomfrey standing above her with Draco and the rest of the Weasleys. She sits up quickly and she screams, “Harry!”

She doesn’t waste a second before standing up. She recognised the place as the forbidden forest, if she got there in time she could stop whatever was happening from happening. Draco stands up just as fast as she does, but she becomes disoriented. Draco holds her up as she feels more dizzy. Draco says, “You should sit down.”

“No, no…I need to get to Harry.” she says, weakly fighting against his grip that’s trying to set her down on the floor, making sure her dizziness doesn’t make her fall herself. A flash of white covers her vision and she sees Dumbledore from afar, and when she regains her senses again, she sobs.

It is unmistakable, Harry’s dead. Voldemort’s words, the flash of green. The white and then finally Dumbledore. She sobs and Draco asks her, “What’s wrong?”

She looks around to find several people looking around. They were still in the middle of a war. They needed to defeat Voldemort for everyone that died, and for Harry. She couldn’t tell them, it would demolish all hopes of a victory. She leans down and whispers in his ear, “Harry’s dead.”

His eyes widen and she starts crying again. He holds her tightly against his chest, and Mrs Weasley starts to pat her head, sympathetically, assuming she was crying over the death of Remus. She shuts her eyes and hears the voice of Narcissa. Narcissa wasn’t dead, Voldemort wouldn’t kill her, unless…unless Harry’s alive.

She stands up once again, and this time she doesn’t feel dizzy. She sees Hagrid walking along with Voldemort, heading towards the castle. She moves out of the Great Hall and a group of people follow her outside. She goes to the courtyard and surely enough, Voldemort and what’s left of his army are coming towards them while Hagrid is carrying Harry in his large arms.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort shouts and Ginny screams as she rushes towards him, but Mr Weasley holds her back. Y/N holds Draco’s hand, and he pushes her back behind him a bit when he notices Nagini staring at her, slithering around Voldemort. The Death Eaters laughed.

“From this day forth, you put your faith in me. Now is the time to declare yourself, come forth and join us…or die.” Voldemort says as he looks around at the Hogwarts students all looking beaten and broken. Lucius and Narcissa, standing near Voldemort, urge him to come forward.

Y/N squeezes his hand and he looks at her then at his parents. They start calling his name, but his feet stay firmly planted. Voldemort watches the interaction with interest, and he looks at Draco, then says, “Draco?”

He doesn’t move and he squeezes her hand tightly. Voldemort sighs, disappointed and he looks at Dolhov to his right and he orders, “Kill him.”

Dolhov raises his wand, taking Draco’s wand out of his own. Then he fires the killing spell, and Narcissa protests, but the spell was already shot. Draco’s eyes widened, and he was quickly pushed out of the way. Draco screams, “No!”

Y/N falls to the ground, the spell hitting her right in her chest. The last thing she heard was Ginny shouting out her brother’s name and some cheers.

@urbansaint @love-me-satoru @callsignwidow @angelofasgard16

50 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Chilly Hogsmeade

Pairing: Remus Lupin + gn!reader

Word count: around 600

Summary: You insist on going to hogsmeade despite how cold it is, luckily your boyfriend can warm you up.

Warnings: none I believe

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck feel free to check out my masterlist.

Requests are open

It was really my fault, this whole situation. Remus wanted to stay in the common room by the fire place or live between bookshelves in the library, but I insisted that we leave to go to Hogsmeade.

We only had a little bit of time left before we were done with school and even less time before we started NEWTs which meant that anything fun should be done now. What I failed to notice was how cold hogsmeade is. Sure, I've been there many many times, but somehow today was the coldest it's ever been.

Remus was right, we should've stayed inside, but like hell I was going to tell him that. He chuckles from beside me, "Are you sure you don't want to go back?"

"Why would I?" I retort, he refrains from saying it out loud and he simply shrugs his shoulders. I huddle closer to him because he's my boyfriend and I love him, and because he's a walking human furnace. I can feel the heat radiating off of him when I curl my hand around his entire arm. I sigh happily.

A breeze rushes past us, and just like that the happiness is gone. I shiver, and lift up my shoulders, hoping that my scarf would cover my face. Remus looks at me, and purses his lips. He states, "I think we should go back."

"Why?" I ask, and Remus looks at me disapprovingly. He lifts his hand and places it on my cheek. It's warm, so warm, and the contrast against my dry, cold, cheeks felt heavenly. I sigh in content before I snap out of it and move my face away.

"You're freezing."

"Am not." I say, and fold my arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Remus starts, "so you wouldn't mind, if I..."

He trails off as he bends down and captures a bit of snow in his hands and rolls them into a ball. He continues, "throw this at you."

He tricks me by moving his hand, but not releasing the snow. I duck a great amount and hate the way he grins when he throws nothing. I say, "I swear to merlin Remus Lupin if any bit of snow touches me, you will be a single and dead man."

He laughs, and says, "You're really not going to go back."

"No." I huff, and Remus takes my hand in his and covers both of mine and warms them up. I look at him skeptically and he shrugs his shoulders, "I wanted to hold your hand."

After my hands turn warmer, he takes me by the hand towards a shop. The three broomsticks, I look at him suspiciously and he raises his shoulders. Remus says, "I'm simply in the mood for some nice hot chocolate."

Remus is never not in the mood for hot chocolate, or anything chocolate for the matter, but I knew for a fact that he thought that the hot chocolate madame Rosmerta makes is an abomination.

He picks the seat near the fireplace. He suddenly feels hot and gives me his scarf then jacket. I insist that he take them back, but he insists as well that he doesn't want them, and why let them go to waste when they obviously look so good on me.

By the end of the day, I'm bundled up in so many pieces of clothing, and warmed up by so many drinks and hugs, that I don't think I feel the cold anymore. I also think that I possibly love my boyfriend even more than when I did before.

I stop him on our way back to Hogwarts, and hold both his hands. I use them to push me up to his lips, pressing a long sweet kiss on his cheek then his lips. I whisper, "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure."

13 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Potions Partners (Part 19)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + Fem!reader

word count: 2994

warnings: snatchers, swear words, not sleeping well, fighting, kissing, torture, eluding to sexual assault (but nothing happens)

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Part 20 and FYI requests are open

an: can you believe that only 2 chapters are left? I can't. I loved writing this, and I grew so attached to everyone and the story.

She was alright. That’s all he could think about. She was getting better grades, she spent her time laughing with her friends, and she even made up with her brother. He knew all that because he saw her during meals. He only went so he could watch her. Never once did she ever look in his direction.

To distract himself from that fact, he spent his entire time mending the cabinet. He had made it to the final shelf of the restricted section. He became more anxious as he finished every book but with no avail. He could only visit the restricted section at night, so the dark circles under his eyes were becoming darker and darker.

He knew that if she was still with him, she could’ve urged him to sleep. She would have interrogated him to find out about the cause of his lack of sleep. She would’ve held his hand as he confessed. She would’ve kissed him after and did everything in her power to help him. The scenario was all he thought about during divination.

He didn’t notice the way the bell rang and all the students left the classroom. His eyes followed her as she stood up from between Weasley and Potter. Professor Trelawany tapped his shoulder and she said in an ominous voice, “You shouldn’t worry about her. You’re fated. It’s in the prophecy.”

He only nods as an answer and lifts his bag and quickly leaves the classroom. Professor Trelawney was truly a nut job, but he stopped in the middle of the stairs to think about what she’d said. He turned around, climbing back up and asked, “Excuse me, what do you mean, Professor?”

“A few years ago, I made a prophecy that she would end up with the enemy. Either the Dark Lord is very charming or you’re the one for her.” she giggled and spun around in an odd way. That made him a few steps away. He nodded gratefully and he left the classroom. They were fated.

The thought brought a smile to his face, and it settled a pain in his heart. It didn’t matter if they weren’t together right now because they would end up together. He runs down the stairs and he rushes to find her before she reaches her next class. He reaches the end of the staircase and he hears her laughs coming from the end of the hallway.

“Y/N!” He calls for her and he runs to her with a smile. Potter and Weasley turned around before she did, and they both glared at him. He ignored their looks and he said, “Can I talk to you?”

“No.” Harry replies and Draco sneers at him, “I wasn’t talking to you.” He looks at her and his gaze softens immediately. He waits patiently for her answer, and she shifts on her feet awkwardly. She bites her lip then whispers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No, you’ll want to hear this!” he says, excitedly. She licks her lips, and the bell rings, saving her from answering. She points behind her and she says, “I have class, I’ve got to go.”

He nods and he watches her turn around and walk away with Weasley and Potter. His chest sinks as he remembers that she’s got a free period right now. People look at him and whisper which has been going on for the past month and a half since his outburst in her herbology class. He sighs and turns to walk in the opposite direction, heading to the room of requirement.

***

“Treacherous little bleeder, is there no one we can trust?” Ron says, as soon as they’re done apparating from the Lovegood home. Harry and Hermione are panting. Y/N hangs on to Ron’s arm to stabilise herself. She’s the one with the least apparating experience. She says to him, “They kidnapped Luna because she supported us, he was just desperate.”

“I’ll do the enchantments.” Ron sighs, and he turns around. Hermione sets her large bag on the ground, heavily and brushes the dust from her clothes. Y/N sets a hand on Ron’s shoulder and goes to help him. She brings out her wand before she sees three large men.

Ron grasps her arm and pulls her back. One of the men looks at her with a vicious grin, looking her up and down. Ron’s grip on her arm tightens, noticing that. Harry notices and looks at the three men, suspiciously.

Another man is leaning against a tree. He’s playing with his tie between his fingers. She assumes he’s the leader. He looks at Hermione and says, “Hello beautiful.”

He takes a few steps towards her and she mirrors them backwards. In a second, they all start running away from the men. The leader rolls his eyes, but stays still. He orders, “Well, don’t hang around. Snatch them!”

All the men start running after them, but Harry, Ron, Hermione and Y/N were much quicker. Behind Y/N, there was a man nearing Hermione, so she cast a spell, sending the man flying backwards. That was all it took for all the men to start firing spells.

None of the spells hit them, the men had horrible aim. Instead, the spells hit the trees, the debris hit Y/N on her back, causing her to let out a small scream. They all continued running, as fast as they could. The snatchers were starting to fire more violent spells.

One of the men fires a binding spell. Ron pushes Y/N out of the way, and he falls to the ground with a tight red rope gripping his ankles together. Y/N sinks to the ground beside him and casts a shielding spell around them, as Ron uses his wand to try to break the spell.

Hermione and Harry continue running and she pays them no mind as she focuses on shielding them from four snatchers aiming at them. Ron used several spells on his ankles but none of them worked. He used his wand to point at her and turned her hair blue and he made her face look fatter, and her nose slightly bigger. The leader of the snatchers shot a violent spell that broke the field around them.

The men leaded down and two of them held Ron while the biggest one of them held her. They dragged them both to where Ron and Hermione were. Hermione looked intact despite the tight grip the man had on her arm while Harry’s face looked weird. Hermione must’ve cast a spell on him.

The leader walked to her and grabbed her face. He pulls her face closer to his and her face twists in disgust. She spit on his face and he looked at her with a wicked grin. He raised his hand and a slap landed on her face. Her cheeks turned red and her head started to throb at the action. He says, “You need to learn to behave yourself.”

“You’ll regret that.” Harry shouts at him after he sees the man hit his sister. He struggles against one of the men’s grip. The leader looks at him, and walks to him with pursed lips. He grabs his sleeves and tugs them down. He looks at Harry and says, “What happened to you, ugly?”

“What’s your name?” the leader asks, and Y/N hopes that her idiot brother isn’t dumb enough to say his actual name. Harry resists the man’s grip, but when it proves to be useless, he stops and says, “Dudley.”

The leader snapped his fingers at one of his men, the man wasn’t restraining any of them and he brought out a paper. He scanned it and then shook his head. The leader clicked his tongue then said, “We’ll bring them to the manor.”

They apparate to a large black dark manor. They walk towards a gate, Harry’s walking the first one with the leader holding his jacket. She’s the last one walking with Ron beside her. They are near the gate and she can see Bellatrix Lestrange waiting for them behind it. Y/N fists her arms angrily at the sight of her.

The leader presses Harry’s face against the gate and she can see harry groan in pain. Bellatrix looks at the leader unconvinced, but then he lifts Harry’s bangs up and there is a faint look of Harry’s scar. Bellatrix opens the gates and they get pushed inside the manor.

They’re near the door when Bellatrix opens the door and Lucius Malfoy greets them. A shudder runs down her back, realising who’s manor this is. Bellatrix whispers something in Malfoy’s ears and he walks up the stairs.

They’re pushed inside the manor and they’re met with Narcissa Malfoy. Bellatrix grabs Harry from the snatchers grasp and throws him on the ground. She goes to hold him up by his hair, pulling him. Harry lets out a pained noise and Y/N scrunches her face at the unpleasant noise.

The rest of the snatchers hold Ron, Hermione and Y/N behind Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Draco walks down from the stairs and the first thing he sees is them. He looks at Ron and Hermione with a neutral expression. He moves to look at her and his eyes widen before he hides his surprised expression quickly.

“Tell me Draco, is this him? Is this Harry Potter?” Bellatrix says as she pulls Harry by his hair tighter. Draco looks at him and he looks back at Y/N for a second before snapping his eyes back to Harry in front of him. This was surely Harry Potter, but instead he says, “I can’t be sure.”

Lucius walks to Draco and grasps his neck tightly. He whispers in his ear something that she doesn’t hear, but she could see Draco’s body become even more tense. The leader seems to have heard because he walks to Lucius with his hand on his hip saying, “Now, I hope we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him.”

“Do you dare talk to me like that in my own house!” Lucius shouts at him and Narcissa walks to him, whispering soft words in his ears. She pulls him back to where they were standing. Bellatrix looks back and looks at Y/N. Bellatrix drops Harry to the ground and says to Draco, “What about that one? Is it the girl Potter?”

She feels her blood run cold, and Draco turns around to face her. She can’t recognise the look on his face, but Bellatrix rushes behind him and pushes Draco closer to her. Her body turns to stone as he comes closer to her for the first time in ten months. Bellatrix presses, “Well…”

Draco hesitates in saying anything, and Lucius starts to become anxious beside Narcissa. Lucius moves to Draco and he shouts, “You’ve fucked her for a year, you can remember her face!”

The shouts along with the words bring her face in a scrunch and makes her flinch. She could see Harry resisting the urge to punch someone. In a second, Draco’s face turns into a vile sneer. The same one he used to give them a long time ago. Draco grins at Lucius, folding his arms over his chest, “I wasn’t really looking at her face, father.”

The men all laugh at Draco’s words and she feels her face flush. He scans her body from top to bottom and he licks his lips. Draco bites his lips then says, “But, no it’s not her.”

In a second, Bellatrix walks to one of the men who was holding the sword of Gryffindor. They continued talking but Y/N couldn’t hear what they were saying as she continued to look at Draco who was looking at her like she was his next meal.

Bellatrix screams at the snatchers till they leave. She goes to Hermione and grabs her collar. She pushes Ron and Harry to Peter Pettigrew and he takes them down to the dungeons. Ron struggles against Pettigrew’s grip. Bellatrix points to Y/N and says, “Bring her to me, we’re going to have a girls chat.”

Bellatrix brings out her dagger and drags it across Hermione's jaw. Y/N’s blood runs cold, and Draco’s eyes widen. He shouts, “No!”

Lucius, Narcissa and Bellatrix all look at him in confusion. Harry and Ron see him from the back of the room while still struggling. Draco straightens his clothes and puts on that same evil grin that he had on before. He smirks, “I’ll take her. I want to have my way with her upstairs.”

Bellatrix dismissed him with a wave of her hand and focused her attention on Hermione. Draco grabbed her shoulder roughly and started taking her upstairs. She could hear Harry shouting at him from below. Narcissa gave her a weird look as she passed her.

As soon as they were out of sight, Draco rushed with her to his room. He closed the door behind them and placed, silencing and locking spells behind them. Her body tensed and she lifted her wand. He turned around and was met by the sight of her wand pointed at his face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his face turning into the same kind expression that she fell in love with. He placed his finger on her wand, sure that she wouldn’t hurt him, and pushed it aside. He took his own wand out of his belt loop and waved it over her face. She returned to her original appearance. Draco smiles, “There you are, my love.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she says, sternly ignoring the flutter in her chest at the name. Draco ignores her question and heads to his cupboard. He takes out a glass and turns around to ask her, “Would you like some water?”

“You have to let me go.” She says, and she can tell that he rolled his eyes. He’s still the same as he was almost a year ago. He takes out a box and he asks, “Food, maybe?”

“Why aren’t you hurting me?” She says, and he pauses his movements of taking out food and filling a glass of water. She can see his chest heave from his back. He turned around with a frown and he said in a small voice, “You thought I would hurt you.”

She feels guilty, noticing his expression and she fiddles with her fingers. Twisting the ring on her finger. She avoids his gaze and stutters, trying to explain, “I-I wasn’t sure, you recognised me.”

“Please!” he scoffed, and then he continued, “I would recognise you even if I was blind.” The words make her heart flutter. He continues to place the food on a plate and he places the plate and the glass of water on a tray. “Besides, you’re still wearing my ring.”

She notices what he’s talking about when he looks at her fidgeting hands. She stops the nervous movements and she brings her hands to her sides. He leaves the tray on the desk. He holds her hand and sits her on his bed, then he hands her the tray. She hands him back the tray, “I’m not hungry.”

He reluctantly puts the tray back on his desk. He sits back down beside her and the silence between them is uncomfortable, but she truly has no idea what to say. He turns to look at her with a cheeky smirk, “So when are you going to drop the act?”

“Drop…the act?” she repeats in confusion, looking at his unwavering cocky grin. Draco moves closer to her, and her body betrays her by not moving away from him. Draco says, “You know, that we’re meant to be and shit. It would be much easier if we get back together now-”

“Draco, we’re in the middle of a war!” she says, sternly looking at him in disbelief, but his smile widens and turns into a less arrogant one. He continues to stare at her and she raises an eyebrow, “what?”

“I’ve missed this- you scolding me…and you.” Draco confesses and it takes her everything in her to not forgive him right then and there. She doesn’t reply and looks in front of her. She stares at his bookshelf, trying to see if she could recognise any of them. She waits a second before saying, “Harry told me you couldn’t do it.”

“What?” Draco asks before he could register her words. She turns to look to face him, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. She clears her throat before saying, “That you couldn’t kill Dumbledore.”

His mouth forms an O in understanding and his expression turns sour. They don’t say anything for a while. Shefaces the door, and tries to listen to see if anything is going on outside but she hears nothing. Draco grabs her chin and turns her to face him. Draco hesitates, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I- I still love you.”

He meets her eyes for what feels like the first time in forever. She sees the hope in his eyes, and it cracks her heart. She feels that love she feels for him bubbles from the bottom of her stomach, and she knows she’s going to regret what she does next. She says, “Don’t think too much of this.”

She kisses him. He reciprocates it in a second, hands flying to her face and pulling her closer to him. She grasps his torso tightly and kisses him harder. He falls to his back and she climbs on top of him. He bites her bottom lip, and pulls it a bit, urging her to open her mouth.

POP!

They part at the sound and she sees Dobby standing there with a surprised expression. Dobby has Harry’s wand in his hand, and he stutters before saying firmly, “Sorry to interrupt, Miss Potter, but Dobby has come to rescue Miss Potter.”

Dobby doesn’t give her a second to think before he reaches to grab her hand and apparates.

Taglist:

@love-me-satoru @angelofasgard16 @urbansaint @callsignwidow

42 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Potions Partners (Part 18)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + Potter!Fem!reader

word count: 4178

warnings: fighting, injuries, crying a lot of it.

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

Part 19 and just so you know requests are open

“How are you feeling?” She asked just as soon as she saw his eyes blink open. He had almost caught her trying to conceal his mark. She sat down on the chair quickly hoping he wouldn’t notice. He looks at her and he smiles. He clears his throat, “Much better.”

She didn’t know if he was lying to her or not. She smiles and she goes to help him up. He holds his hand up and lifts himself up. She’s glad that he’s able to do that now, but she hates the way he groans when he does it. He takes the water and the painkillers and takes them.

She takes the glass from his hand even though she’s sure that he doesn’t need her help anymore. He grabs her hand tightly and doesn’t let her go away. He pressed a kiss to her hand and she set the glass down on the bedside table with her other hand.

He shuffles to the left, clearing space for her to sit. He pats down the empty side of the bed with his hand, and she sits down. He looks at the distance between them, and he pouts, “Come closer.”

She moves closer to him, being side by side to his chest. He still frowns and tugs on her hand. She moves closer until he pulls her enough that she falls right next to him. She lets out a laugh at the motion and he would’ve too if his chest didn’t hurt from the cuts.

She twists her body so she’s lying on her back beside him. She makes sure that she isn’t hurting him or putting too much of her body weight on him. He doesn’t seem to care much as he hugs her tightly, places his chin on the top of her head and says, “Ahh, there we go.”

She smiles at the gesture and he places a kiss on her head. She holds his hand with both of her own and places their intertwined hands on her stomach. He hums, “How’s things going with your brother?”

Her body tenses, she hasn’t spoken to Harry in nearly a week. He hasn’t made an effort to speak to her either. Harry was right, Draco is a death eater, but that still doesn’t excuse his actions, especially since he doesn’t know that his assumptions are true. She answers, “umm, well, I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

“You should- talk to him, that is. He’s still your brother.” Draco says, unexpectedly. She looks up at him with wide eyes, and perks a lip up in confusion. He avoids her gaze and twists a strand of her hair around his finger. He says, “You shouldn’t fight with him because of me.”

“It’s not about you...sort of, he’s being a git.” she says, sinking back down to his side. She could hear the gears in his brain shift again, and she knows that he’s about to say something. She’s glad that he has enough energy to pursue a conversation with her. He starts, “He could be right, you know…”

She feels her body tense and she hopes that he doesn’t notice. Was he going to tell her? Her heart pumps anxiously inside her chest, making her head go foggy in anticipation of his next words. He continues, “And I can’t say that I’m not terrified of the thought. That you’ll think your brother’s right, and you’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I don't think anything you can do can make me not love you.” She says, truthfully. Even while knowing that he’s a death eater, she still loves him and cares for him which is why she won’t tell him that she’s breaking up with him until he fully heals. He hums, “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She says, firmly, looking at him with loving eyes, and he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, she knows that he doesn’t believe her, but little does he know the truth. He presses a kiss to her head, and he says, “Madame Pomfrey says I’ll be out by tomorrow. I’ll have to be cautious and everything, which means that unfortunately we can’t have fun together.”

He finishes his statement and he trails one of his hands to the hem of her skirt to show what he meant by ‘fun’. She looks up at him to find his face twisted in a teasing smirk. He slips one finger under her skirt and he toys with her skirt with the rest of his fingers as he says, “But what does she know anyway.”

His hand moves further down below her skirt and she grabs his wrist pulling it out of her skirt. She grabs his hand tightly and she shakes her head, “No can do. Doctor’s orders.”

He groans loudly in displeasure and he slams his head onto the pillow. She laughs at his actions before she twists her body once again to lay on her stomach. Her elbows hold her torso up as she reaches a hand to cup his face. The action makes him look at her, grinning. She couldn’t believe someone as kind as him was a Death Eater.

She presses her lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. His eyes blinked heavily and she knew he was getting tired again. She brushed her thumb over his cheekbones in a soft, soothing motion that made him more sleepy. His eyes close as his breaths become slower and more regulated.

She sighs at his calm appearance. The cuts that she could see from above the blanket were almost completely healed. Madame Pomfrey told her that the direct cuts on his torso would leave permanent scars. She didn’t tell Draco, not wanting to upset him. He was still gorgeous to her no matter what. She pushed away a lock of his hair that fell on his face.

Minutes later, she decided to leave to allow him to sleep better. It wasn’t very comfortable sleeping together in a small hospital bed. She shuffles away from him, but his hand dug into the material of her shirt around her waist, urging her to stay. She sighed, she doesn’t think that she’s capable of loving him anymore than what she already does.

She lifts the blanket, covering herself with it and slides underneath it. She settles to his side, making sure not to touch any of the bandages. She places her head on the pillow, their faces were incredibly close to each other. She pecks his lips quickly and softly before falling into a deep slumber.

***

“You should talk to her, Harry.” Hermione says while they’re in the common room. A week and a half has passed since Draco and Harry’s fight in the bathroom and Harry hasn’t spoken to Y/N since. Harry stares at his transfiguration book as he says, “I’ve got nothing to say to her.”

“She’s your sister.” Ron says, playing with some cards in his hands, shuffling them, randomly. Harry clenches his jaw at his friend's words. He reads the same sentence he’s been reading for the past hour again. He grumbles, “It’s not like she’s tried talking to me.”

“You’re the one who hurt her boyfriend, and shouted at her.” Hermione defended Y/N. It wasn’t a rare occurrence when the Potter twins fought, but it was the first time they've ever fought for this long. Harry gawks at Hermione as he says, pointedly, “Her boyfriend is Draco Malfoy, or have you both forgotten what he’s done to us all, both of you especially.”

“We’re not saying he’s an angel, but he makes Y/N happy, and that’s all that matters.” Hermione explains, and Harry rolls his eyes at her words. Harry slams his book shut, and brings his knees to his chest. He says, “You two shouldn’t be alright with this.”

“We’ve had a lot more time to process it than you-” Ron starts, and Hermione quickly hushes him, but not before Harry catches on. His gaze shifts between his two best friends as he thinks, looking at them, looking at each other nervously. He says, “You knew…You knew and you never told me.”

He grabs his books and stands up. Hermione and Ron follow him, and Hermione stutters as she tries to explain, “We all knew you’d do this, it was for the best that you didn’t know until it was settled and everything.”

“Settled?!” Harry gawks, “They’ve been dating for months, they’ve been settled for a while now, and you two lied to me. Is there no one I can trust in this place?” He exclaims and walks into the boys dormitory.

He stomps on the stairs, eliciting interested gazes from the rest of Gryffindor tower. He slams the door shut, and he presses his hands to his face. He takes in a shaky breath, and then she says, “Hey.”

His eyes snap to find that Y/N was sitting on Ron’s bed, waiting for him. Her legs were folded underneath her, and he folded his arms in front of his chests. He seethes, “How’d you get up here?”

“I was doing some Herbology homework with Neville, and decided to wait for you.” She explains in a calm tone, completely opposing him. He hums as he stares at her angrily. She stands up and walks to him. She says, “I’m not here to apologise so if you’re waiting for that then you’ll be disappointed.”

He huffs at her words, he was expecting an apology. He glares at her harder, but it doesn’t deter her. She was used to Harry’s angry looks, if not from this past week then from their whole life. Harry would always glare at her even when she would steal a fry from his plate. She sighs, “Draco’s getting out of the hospital wing today, so I’m asking you to not try to kill him this time.”

“No promises.” He says, and she sighs at his childish antics. She rolls her eyes and walks out of the boys dormitory. She doesn’t notice the way a sad frown rests on his face when she turns around from him. She exits the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the sympathetic looks she receives from Ron and Hermione.

She heads to the hospital wing where she can help Draco move his things that have accumulated there over the week. He was already up when she reached his spot. There was a curtain surrounding his bed, and it shielded them from any people that were there in the hospital wing. He’s staring out the window.

She walks from behind him, and wraps her arms around his torso from behind. He tenses before he notices her presence and relaxes beneath her touch. He lifted her left hand and kissed his ring on her finger. He turns around so he can hug her properly. He looks much better, the dark circles under his eyes are nearly gone, and he looks healthier. She hopes that his health doesn't deteriorate when he leaves the hospital wing.

“Welcome back.” she smiles at him, and he smiles back. He was going to put his things in his room and freshen up a bit before going to class. He was excused from them this week, and today too, but he wanted to get back on top of his work. He presses a kiss to her head and he says, “It’s good to be back.”

“Are you coming with me?” he asks and she sighs. He doesn’t know what he’s about to find out. She shakes her head and says, “I wish I could but I can’t. I’ve got some classes, I’ve already missed so many of them this past week.”

“Will I see you after?” he asks, and she nods her head, a lie. She was planning on avoiding him like the plague till he got the hint, the same thing he did to her five months ago. She wasn’t ready for confrontation, or to break his heart, if she actually mattered to him.

He grabs the large box filled with his stuff and he gives her a smile. He turns to her and says, “I love you.” He’s been saying it a lot lately. It causes the ache in her heart to burn even more. She would question it every time, but she would always smile and say, “I love you too.”

He leaves the hospital wing and on his way to the Slytherin common room, he gets greeted by his Slytherin classmates. He would give them all weak smiles. He rushed to his room, not ready to socialise. He was already regretting all the time he missed being in the hospital wing, but madame pomfrey didn’t allow him to leave until he was fully healed.

He entered his room with a sigh, already feeling more comforted. He shut his eyes tightly then swished his wand, causing his lights to open. His room looked different, he knew what was wrong immediately. His room didn’t have a single trace of her.

The bedside table that he conjured up on her side of the bed was gone, so was her chair that was beside him in front of his desk. He opened his closet to find her hangers gone and her drawer empty. He went to the bathroom to find it no longer cluttered by her objects.

The stone he had given her was on his bed. His blood ran cold, and his chest heaved. He couldn’t understand what was wrong. Did her friends force her to break up with him? Did her brother? A chill ran down his spine as his eyes widened. He lifted up his sleeve to find his mark concealed, which was worse than him finding it untouched.

He had her schedule memorised, and so he noticed that she had Herbology at the moment. He ran out of his room, leaving the door open, ignoring the way his limbs protested at the action. He ignored how Blaise called out his name in surprise. He never noticed how large the castle actually was until his chest was burning with every step he took.

The Hogwarts greenhouses were too many for him to check out every single one. He went to the largest, and he found a collection of crimson robes, and so he barged into the greenhouse. Professor Sprout exclaimed at his intrusion and gasped, “Mr Malfoy, we are in the middle of class!”

He paid her no mind as he locked eyes with Y/N. He walked to her desk which was in the middle of class, sharing it with Longbottom. He ignored the way the boy looked at him in disgust. He stood in front of her and her eyes were wide. He said, “What happened?”

“What are you doing here? There are people watching-” she started, eyes shifting around anxiously as people looked at them curiously. He lifted both his hands to cup her cheeks in order to get her to focus on him and only him. “I don’t care, where’s your stuff? It wasn’t in my room-”

“This really isn’t the best time for this-” she says, her chest beating irregularly, already hearing people starting to whisper. She hoped that Professor Sprout would interfere, but knowing that her Professor was a major gossip, that was less than likely. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and he whispered, “What happened?”

“Can we do this somewhere else?” she asks, bringing her fingers to clasp around his wrists, bringing his hands down from her face. He pauses for a second, looking at their surroundings, noticing the same, shocked expression on everyone’s faces. He nods his head, and takes her hand.

He moves them past the students and towards Professor Sprout. He puts on his best charming smile that always worked with Professor Sprout back when he took Herbology in his early years in Hogwarts. He asked, “Would you mind if I borrowed her for a moment, Professor?”

“Not at all!” Professor Sprout says, much more excited than she should be. Y/N shot her Professor a confused look that she didn’t notice while Draco dragged her out of the greenhouse. She felt heat rise up from her neck to her cheeks and ears, nervously.

He takes them to their tree that’s beside the black lake. The Hogwarts grounds were void of any students, everyone was in their classes. He brings her in front of him, and holds both her hands in his own. He rubs his thumb over her hand and asks, “What happened?”

“I-I can’t be with you anymore.” she says in a small voice, but he heard it very well. His body turns to stone and he takes a step close to her. She’s avoiding his gaze. His voice shakes, “W-why? Did someone make you do this?”

She doesn’t reply and he lifts his hand to grab her chin, hoping that looking into her eyes would bring some sense in this situation. He rambles, “What it Weasley? Granger? Was it your brother? They don’t have the right, you can tell them-”

“It was my decision, they had nothing to do with this!” She shouts, interrupting him. She takes a step back and she watches his face confort into confusion. She avoids his gaze as she watches the lake. He sighs, “But why?”

“You lied to me,”She said after a while. She turned to look at him then she added, "Harry was right, you are a death eater.”

His eyes turn wide and his shoulders fall and he looks down at the ground. He lifts his head up to look at her and she notices his glossy eyes. Her eyes sting, but she tries to keep her tears at bay. He stutters, “H-how?”

“Who do you think hid your mark every morning?” she says, and he purses his lips. He takes a deep breath in understanding. His assumptions were right after all. She takes a step away from him and he follows her, quickly, keeping the space between them minimal. He rushes, “It’s not what you think-”

“Was any of this real? Or were you just using me for Voldemort?” she says as a few tears fall from her eyes. She wipes them away quickly, feeling pathetic. She can’t even regulate her emotions when she’s the one breaking up with him. He shudders at the mention of his name and he said, “I wanted you before he got involved-”

“So he was involved…I can’t believe Harry was right.” she said incredulously. Draco was using her for information. Every decision Draco made, Voldemort was behind it. It all made so much sense now, the way he suddenly gave her all that attention after so many years of hatred.

She turns in the opposite direction, ready to end this conversation. He grabs her wrist to stop her and cries, “No, no, don’t walk away. Listen to me. I want you, I never wanted this to happen. I had no choice-”

“I don’t believe you. I can’t trust you anymore. You keep hurting me over and over-” she cries and a sob interupts her. She looks at Draco who’s grabbing her face to make her look at him. Her chest constricts, and she shuts her eyes tightly. He pleads, “Please, Please, don’t hate me. Stay with me, please.”

“Please… please.” He begs over and over again, but she can’t feel anything other than the ache in her heart and the tears staining her cheeks.

“I love you, I’m sorry.” He repeats the phrase over and over again, until it’s the only thing that she hears. He cups her face and she wants to move away, but it’s him, and her body couldn’t possibly move away from him.

“I didn’t have a choice, he was going to kill my mom.” He explains, and his tears start to stream over his cheeks, uncontrollably. He pulls her to his chest and her arms don’t wrap around him. “I never wanted this, and I never wanted to lie to you.”

“He was going to kill you too.” He rushes to say, hoping to change her mind. She shakes her head as she sobs harder. Her voice is hoarse when she chokes out,“I can’t-”

“No-” He cries and his head starts spinning. She sniffs, but her tears keep falling. She takes a half-hearted step away from him again and she says, “I won’t ever be able to trust you again. How do I know that you’re not lying to me?”

He brings her hand to his chest, above his heart. She could feel it beat against her finger tips. He held her hand tightly against his chest, and said as if he was swearing it, “Because I love you. I love you so much-”

“We were foolish to think this would work out.” She sobs, but he starts shaking his head. He holds her hand tighter, afraid that if his grip loosened, she would leave. His tight grip was sure to leave bruises, but the slight sting didn't match the ache in her chest. He tries to persuade her, “No, I love you and you love me-”

“It won’t work like that-” she starts and he falls to his knees, desperate. He wraps his arms around her legs, hoping to get her to stay. The action makes her sob harder, and instinctively, she brings her fingers through his soft hair. He rests his head on his thigh, and sighs, “Please.”

“I need you, I need you so much.” he says, lifting his hands to her waist. He grasps her sides, and he sobs harder. His grip leaves marks on her skin that he hopes will never leave, so she’ll never forget him. She places her hands on his and tries to pry them off, but her efforts are useless against him. He feels the opposing force and he cries harder, “I can’t live without you, I can’t breathe without you, I can’t sleep without you. I need you, please don’t leave me.”

She raises a hand to her mouth, hoping to conceal the sobs leaving her mouth. She wipes her tears with her sleeves. She sinks to her knees as his grip falls from her waist and he holds on to her hips instead. She reaches out to touch his face and wipe his tears, “We’re on opposite sides of the war-”

“We’ll get through it, I know we can.” he says, but she smiles at him bitterly with glassy eyes. She presses his lips against each other and she says, “This is for the best. We’ve had a wonderful year together, it’s time that this is over.”

Draco doesn’t interrupt her, settling for pressing his hands over his face as he cries harder. She continues speaking, “Everything can go back to how it was, it’ll be so much easier, and you’ll find someone else-”

“I don’t give a fuck about easy, and I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I’ll never want anyone else, but you. I want to spend my whole life with you-” he shouts, and her tears start falling down again. His voice softens and he brushes a strand of her hair away from her face, “Don’t do this to me, don’t do this to us-”

She stands up quickly, and he shoots up after her, startled by the action. He goes to touch her, but she takes a step back. She cries, “Stop! Don’t make this any harder.”

His body goes rigid and he watches her, wipe away her tears and sniffle. She looks at the black lake again, and he could feel all hope slip away from his body. As a last attempt he whispers, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” she says, and she walks away. He watched her walk away from him and his chest heaves. He sinks to the floor, and rests his back against the wood of their tree. He looks at the lake, and he brings his knees to his chest. He stares in front of him, eyes dry. He’s wasted all his tears and now he feels empty as he sits for hours.

Theo comes up to him when the sun sets, and brings him to his room. He couldn’t sleep in his bed, not when she’s not there with him. He goes to the room of requirement and sleeps there, surrounded by several other meaningless objects. He wondered if anyone would miss him if he was gone. His gaze shifts to the cabinet and he flinches at the sight of it, at the thought that his mother would die, if he failed to fix it. He couldn’t do that to her.

He stares at the ceiling wondering if it would all be worth it in the end. That if the war ended, she would take him back, if she would still love him after all. If she wouldn’t fall for someone else, he knew it was easy to fall for her, he hopes that no one does though. That night, he dreams of her.

Taglist:

@urbansaint @angelofasgard16 @love-me-satoru @callsignwidow

57 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 5 months

Text

Potions Partners (Part 17)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + Potter!Fem!reader

word count: 3715

warnings: not eating well, injuries, blood, fighting

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Part 18 and btw requests are open

They were back to how they were. She had become fully comfortable with him again, they spent every night together, and they almost never spent a moment apart. They spent their time, simply being together, Draco would read, they would solve homework, they would talk to each other, or they spent time with Draco inside her. They did that last thing quite frequently.

They sat in his dorm, solving some potions homework. The only homework he ever did was when he copied it from Theo or when she did it with him. He didn’t care about such trivial things such as homework anymore, but he couldn’t turn her down when she turned up at her dorm with her books and an eager smile.

“We’re done!” she cheered, as she slammed her charms books shut. She sighed heavily and leaned against her chair, sinking. He smiles at her tired out state. He closes his own book even though he wasn’t done with most of it, it was more than enough.

“Would you like to go to the Astronomy tower tomorrow?” he asks her with a small smile. Her own smile falls and she says, “I can’t, it’s Ron’s birthday, we’re throwing him a party and everything. I’m sorry. Harry’s going to use the liquid luck to sneak alcohol in, but Hermione won’t let him.”

“It’s fine.” he said, hoping that she wouldn't notice the way his ears perked up at the mention of the felix felicis. He grasped the bottom of her chair, and pulled it closer to him. Their feet were intertwined while he reached out to brush a strand of her hair away from her face. He let out a fake disappointed sigh as he said, teasingly, “I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time right now.”

She giggles as he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. She stands up and he follows her till they reach the bed. She sits and he sits down beside her, not wasting any time and placing his lips on hers.

“You know what would be great?” He asks, as he parts away from her lips. She looks at him with her eyes wide, and asks, “What?” She takes his breath away by going in to steal another kiss from him, and cupping his face with her hands.

“If you could take the liquid luck from your brother and we could use it.” He suggests, hoping that she wouldn’t believe that he has any ulterior motives. She groans, “must you talk about my brother when we’re making out?”

He smiles fondly and pecks her lips, he truly does feel guilty when he continues, “Think about it. We’d use it, then we’d have a day to ourselves, no one would bother us!” She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and he thinks that he might’ve sounded too eager.

“I don’t really feel comfortable taking it from Harry.” She explains, and he presses, “But we’d be able to do whatever we liked. We can finally go to Hogsmeade like you wanted and maybe we might even be able to have some fun afterwards.”

“As tempting as that is and trust me it very much is, I can’t.” She sighs, and he decides against convincing her again, thinking that she might get suspicious. He’d try again some other time, hopefully Potter wouldn’t have used the potion in the meantime.

“Alright then. Where were we?” He teases with a grin as he leans down to kiss her, eliciting a grin from her as well. He wraps a hand around her waist and pulls her near him. She giggles at the action, considering how close they were already.

“Plus, we don’t need some lucky potion. We can be quick.” She suggests and his quirks an eyebrow with a smirk, “Oh?” She rolls his eyes at him and pushes him, so he’s lying on his back. She straddles his lap, and leans over his chest. “I think we can, or are you not up for the challenge?”

***

Ever since Ron got poisoned things haven’t been the same. It’s been nearly two months since his birthday, and the news had spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. No one was safe, they thought. After what happened to Katie and now Ron tensions were high.

She remembers how terrified she was when she heard the news in the morning. She had spent the night with Draco and when she went to the Great Hall, Harry was looking for her. He filled her in about the news of Ron’s poison. She had gone into the hospital wing and found Hermione sitting in a chair beside Ron’s bed.

Harry told her about the incident with Lavender, however they were interrupted by the Weasley clan rushing into the Hospital wing with worried and concerned looks. Mrs Weasley burst out crying when she saw her son asleep.

She doesn’t remember the last time she was that scared. Madame Pomfrey assured them all several times that Ron was fine and that he would be out in a matter of days. That didn’t seem to calm down Mrs Weasley as she kept sobbing for the rest of the time they spent in the castle even when Ron had woken up and told her that he was fine.

When Ron fell asleep again, she left to find Draco. She saw him walking the corridors, and she called out for him. She cried into his arms as she recalled the events of Ron’s poisoning, and he soothed her with reassuring words.

Draco hasn’t been the same since either. He was more sad. It took him a lot more to smile, and it worried her. He never opened up despite her telling him that it was alright and that she would help him. He would always simply smile and thank her.

She tried to escape the morbid atmosphere of the castle with him. They would stay up till dawn in the Astronomy tower, reading together, or they would watch the sunrise, or sunset by the black lake. It would only be for a few moments, but it would make her feel better. She hoped that it did the same for him.

More than two months have passed since that incident, and now they were all seated in the Great Hall eating breakfast. The darkened feeling that the students felt was slightly lifted at the news of Katie Bell returning after getting treated in St. Mungo’s. She had entered the hall, and was immediately bombarded by friends, hugging her.

After they all calmed down, Harry walked up to her and started talking to her. She didn’t pay any mind to her brother nagging Katie. She continued to eat her breakfast with Hermione and Ron. Ron said, “So, for practice tonight I was thinking of trying the new spin-”

“Sorry to interrupt this very important conversation, but Malfoy just left the Great Hall and Harry followed him. It didn’t look well. You should go see what’s going on.” Hermione says, stopping Ron from continuing his rant about Quidditch. She lifted her head to see Harry’s robes turning right.

She nodded her head, appreciating Hermione’s focus, and she walked out of the Great Hall. She could hear Harry’s rushed footsteps, and she started to run after him, not knowing why Harry was following Draco. She could barely make out his figure as he entered the boys bathroom.

She hesitated for a second, but entered immediately when she heard the sounds of spells being fired. She moves around the stalls before she feels Harry pumping into her when he was taking a few steps backwards. His gaze was fixed on something in front of him. She took a step to the side to see what was going on.

All the air left her lungs in one second. Draco whimpered in pain as the blood seepped out of his body quickly. Her eyes were wide as she fell to the floor beside his side. She notices the large cuts on his body that were increasing in quantity by the second. She turned to her brother, “What the fuck did you do?”

Harry stuttered as she reached for her wand to find her pocket empty. The image of it on the Great Hall table flashed through her mind as she cursed herself. The blood leaked out on the floor and reached her body. Draco started crying and she couldn't help the tears that fell from her face.

She pressed her palms to the wounds gently hoping that it would stop the blood from oozing out but it only stained her hands red. She started sobbing as she turned to Harry, “Go get Madame Pomfrey! Do something!”

Harry stood as still as a statue in shock. Draco started choking and she could feel the edge of her skirt get wet by his blood. She let out a helpless sob as she saw the blood start leaving his mouth, the cuts reaching his face. She turned around to see Harry still standing there, so she said, “I’ll go get help.”

“No, stay-” his weak words were cut off by another cough. “I want to die with the girl I love.” She lets out another sob at his words, reaching out for his hands that were also covered in cuts. She coloured his hands in blood with her own stained hands.

“Go get someone!” she screams at her brother, and only then does he finally move, running out of the bathroom. The sound of his pained whimpers, makes the tears run down her face faster. She grasps his hand tighter. She cries, “I love you too.”

Draco only gives her a weak smile as the blood moves towards the ends of the bathroom. The mix of the water and blood makes it rush everywhere. She sobs, as she says, “Hold on, one second, he’ll get someone.”

It feels like an eternity until Snape enters the bathroom. His eyes widened in shock at the sight in front of him. He doesn’t waste a second in taking out his wand and casting a spell that she doesn’t know. She steps back as he leans down and points his wands at the wounds.

The blood rushes back inside Draco’s body, but her knees and hands stay stained with blood. The blood moves from all of the bathroom and around his body, seeping back into the wounds that still look red after the incantation. Draco’s cries have calmed down as he closes his eyes. She sees his chest heaving up and down, and it calms her down. Snape carries Draco’s body to the Hospital wing and she rushes after him.

Madame Pomfrey gasps as she sees Draco’s body. She ushers Snape to place him on one of the beds. She moves quickly to get ointments, potions and bandages. She asked Madame Pomfrey if she needed any help, but she shook her head. She felt so helpless watching the scene unfold in front of her.

She stayed beside his bed when Madame Pomfrey was done. She stopped sobbing, but the tears still streamed down her face. She sniffled and wiped away her tears were her sleeves, not bothered if the blood got on her face. She moved closer to him and held his hand tightly.

She must’ve stayed beside him for hours because when Hermione and Ron came into the Hospital wing, it was already dark outside. They both gasped at her appearance. The red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. The blood on her hands and her knees, and her dishevelled hair. Hermione gasped, looking at Draco, “Harry did this?”

She only sobbed in reply as a hand flew to her mouth hoping to hold in the sob. She didn’t want to wake him up, she feared that he wouldn’t, that the wounds were too deep, that too much blood was lost for too much time. Madame Pomfrey has to change the bandages every few hours because of the blood that’s staining them. Y/N took it up as her job even though she was told that she didn’t need to.

“You have to eat something.” Ron says, hoping to bring his friend out of her misery. Hermione hands her her wand. Y/N only shakes her head as she rubs her fingers over Draco’s hand. She can’t take her eyes off of him, it feels as if she looked away for one second, he would disappear, or worse. Hermione interrupts her morbid thoughts, “What should we tell Harry?”

“Don’t tell him anything, just shout at him and hex him.” she replies, shortly. Her voice was strained and harsh from the lack of water and the amount of crying that she’s done. Her friends nod and leave the Hospital wing. She doesn’t know when it happened, but she had fallen asleep.

She woke up with the sun shining through the windows of the Hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey’s the one who woke her up. She has her arm folded over her chest, but she has a sympathetic smile, “Go get some breakfast.”

“I can’t- I have to stay here with him.” she barely chokes out. Madame Pomfrey shakes her head. She moves to grasp her arm and pulls her up. Her knees feel like jelly and her legs shake a bit. “Go change, get some breakfast, then come back.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but Madame Pomfrey gives her a stern look and says, “I won’t take no for an answer, go quickly and come back. I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

She nods her head and rushes out of the hospital wing in hope of getting things done as fast as possible. She takes out the stone and taps it, moving to the room. It doesn’t take her ten minutes to wash her face, teeth and change her clothes. She rushes to the Great Hall, grabs a muffin, avoiding everyone’s curious gazes, then leaves.

She munches on the muffin as she runs to head back to the hospital wing. She speeds through the crowds of students as she manoeuvres through them, not caring that she’s missed classes for two days now. She’s outside the hospital wing when a body knocks onto her own and Harry’s standing with an unreadable expression on his face.

She resists the urge to punch him, and walks past him. He mumbles something under his breath and he walks behind her. He starts shouting, “When were you going to tell me? Huh? When were you going to tell me that your fucking boyfriend was Malfoy?”

“I don’t have time for this.” she mumbles underneath her breath and heads inside the hospital wing. Draco’s bandages have been changed, but the first thing she checks is his chest. She sees it moving and it’s like her soul has returned to her.

“Do you think I’m some sort of idiot, Y/N?” He shouts, and she turns to glare at him. She says, “Lower your voice because if you wake him up, I will personally kill you with my bare hands.”

He only lowers his voice an octave and his hands are in fists in his sides, “How long?” She doesn’t answer him as she brushes Draco’s hair from his face, watching the way his mouth was slightly parted allowing the air to move in and out of his lungs. Harry repeats, “How long?”

“Since mid September.” she says, and his eyes widen and his mouth goes open. She brings out two glasses of water from the cupboard and fills them with water to the brim. She gulps hers down in one sip and feels the cool water flow down till it reaches her stomach. He runs a hand through his hair, “What part of this did you think was a good idea?”

“I love him.” She says and puts the other glass on the bedside table near Draco, so when he wakes up he can have the pills madame Pomfrey got him. Harry scoffs, “I’m not asking you about how you feel, I’m asking you to use that thing in your head, and tell me what part of this did you think was a good idea?”

She shrugs her shoulders, not caring about this conversation in the slightest. He continues, “He’s a bloody death eater. His job is to get us to Voldemort. He’s been using you for information.”

“No, he isn’t, he loves me too, You fucking heard him.” She seethes back at her brother who looked just about ready to explode, “And he’s not a death eater, he doesn’t have the mark.”

Thoughts run through Harry’s mind as he processes the information given to him. How would she know that he doesn’t have the mark unless- “You had sex with him?” He asks incredulously, but he already knows the answer when she doesn’t answer him, “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“No, Harry. Just shut the fuck up! You don’t get to be mad at me, you almost killed him. If Snape hadn’t come, then you would’ve. And through all of this, you never once checked on me! Sure, you hate him, but shouldn’t you care about me just one bit over your hatred!” She said, her voice raising a bit.

Harry listens to her with his nails digging into his palms. He huffs then leaves the hospital wing, and she lets out a sigh. She slumps down in her chair and watches Draco. His bandages aren’t getting red, she assumes that the wounds are getting better. She moves up to press a kiss to his forehead.

She goes to sit down when she sees something under his white shirt. Her eyebrows furrow as she lifts the sleeves of his shirt up. She gasps as she sees the familiar imprint of the dark mark on his left forearm. She covers her mouth with her hand and she stares at it.

It was in that second that all of it clicked inside her head. Harry not seeing him on the map. The weird books that he was reading. The way he couldn’t tell her what was bothering him. Still, she had so many questions. One echoed through her head, was any of it real?

He was a death eater which meant that he had a task to perform for Voldemort. What if his task was to use her for Voldemort’s benefit? A tear escaped from her eyes as she brushed a stray strand away from her face. She takes out her wand and places a disillusionment charm and the mark and rolls down his sleeve.

She sits down on the chair beside his bed, and she thinks, he wouldn’t have lied to her all this time? He can’t be such a convincing actor. No one’s that cruel to lie to her all this time. She hears shuffles and she looks up to see Draco moving in his bed.

She stands up quickly, and his eyes blink open, adjusting to the bright sunlight. She moves closer to him, holds his hand and smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He groans in pain as soon as he’s fully conscious, and she grabs the painkillers and the glass of water. She whispers, “Take these.”

He takes the pills with shaky hands and puts them in his mouth all at once. He takes the water from her, but she stays near in case he can’t hold it. He swallows them then she takes the glass from his hands and places it on the bedside counter. She doesn’t say anything, just looking at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and his voice is coarse. She bites her lip. He can read her like a book, of course, and he cares, but does he actually? She chuckles, slightly, “I should be asking you that question.”

He smiles, weakly. She can imagine it would be hard to do anything with the cuts over his body. She can’t resist moving closer to him, and holding his hand. Ever the gentleman, he lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses it. It causes a flutter in her stomach. It turns into a bitter feeling, she can’t be with a death eater. She presses her lips firmly against each other, and whispers, “I love you.”

She wanted him to know before what she was about to do. She wouldn’t tell him now, not when he’s in pain. He smiles and it looks so real, it makes her eyes sting. He says, “I love you too.”

“You should go to sleep, you look tired.” she says, pushing his back gently back down on the mattress. He groans as he shifts on the bed, sinking against the pillows behind his head. Sarcastically, he says, “Yeah, that’s what a person looks like when they bleed out a shit ton of blood.”

“Don’t joke. I was really worried about you.” She says, pointedly, but she can’t look stern, her eyes glimmer with sadness. He purses his lips, and he replies, “I’m sorry, my love.”

The name causes her stomach to sink even more. She presses a kiss to his forehead, but he whines, dissatisfied, and she smiles a bit before pressing a small peck to his lips. He sighs, contently as he shifts against the pillows, becoming more comfortable. He says, “You should go get some sleep too.”

She nods her head, not protesting. She presses a final kiss to his lips, before letting out a shaky breath. She purses her lips then says, “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

He softly nodded his head, but his eyes were already shut. She can see him already drifting off into sleep. She takes one last look at him before she leaves the hospital wing. She formulated the plan in her head, a few tears slipping from her eyes as she does.

She goes to Draco’s room, and falls onto his bed. She gets engulfed by his smell. She revels in the comfort of his room, and a few more tears slip her eyes. How could she be so blind? How could she not have noticed it before? She gets pulled into her dreams, falling into a deep slumber, knowing it would be the last time that she falls asleep in this room.

Taglist:

@urbansaint @angelofasgard16 @love-me-satoru

67 notes · View notes

Statistics

We looked inside some of the posts by mastermindmiko and here's what we found interesting.

Average Info

Notes Per Post

19K

Likes Per Post

17K

Reblog Per Post

Reply Per Post

248

Time Between Posts

8 days

Number of Posts By Type

Text

Note

Explore Tagged Posts

Fun Fact

Kazakhstan’s Minister of Communications and Informatics has blocked the Tumblr site because it contained 60 sites of terrorism, extremism, and pornography in 2015.