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marauders-venting · 3 years

Text

Pardon My French

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3556

note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/

a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)

Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.

Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).

The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.

Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”

“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”

“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.

“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”

“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”

“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”

“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.

Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.

But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.

So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary.

He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.

Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.

“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.

“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”

“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”

“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”

“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”

“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”

“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”

“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.

“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.

“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.

“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.

The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.

“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”

“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”

“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.

“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.

“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.

“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.

“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.

“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”

“Remind me why again?” Remus said.

“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.

“You are insufferable, did you know that?”

“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”

“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.

“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Evans…” Sirius pouted.

“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.

“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.

“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.

Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.

“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.

“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”

“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.

“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.

“So?”

“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”

“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.

“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”

“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”

“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”

“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”

“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”

“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”

“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”

“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”

“But… what if he says it was a joke?”

“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”

“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.

He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.

“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.

They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.

“Are we done here?” Remus asked.

“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.

“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.

“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”

“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”

“Then why… why are you—?”

“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”

“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.

“What?”

“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.

“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”

“What?”

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.

“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.

“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.

“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.

They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it.

Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.

“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”

“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”

“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”

“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.

“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.

“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.

“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”

“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”

“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”

“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”

“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”

“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.

People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black fluff #french sirius #moony #padfoot #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #lily evans #lily evans fluff #Marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot

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dull-bun · 3 years

Text

Them with an s/o who is the definition of head empty

VGHERJFNJ THE TITLE IS VAGUE BUT- Baku, deku and shoto with an s/o who is the definition of ‘head empty, no thoughts’ (OR- them with an s/o who spaces out a lot or forgets a lot, I dont know how to explain-) WARNINGS/TW: Swearing, bad writing, OOC characters, short writing, talking about bees and falling 100 feet Gender: Neutral this is a very self indulgent fic <3

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

The first time you both met was at U.A

He noticed your small opened mouth smile, and your eyes were closed

you were standing in front of the door which was a problem (to him)

he could’ve easily moved past you bUT OKAY

he thought you were cute but anyway

He shoved passed you, saying something like ‘move it extra’

you opened your eyes and stumbled, making a humming noise

You stared at him with squinted eyes, not understanding why he pushed you

You didn’t mention it but it agitated you

ANYWAY

When the dorms got introduced and bakugou wasn’t such an aSSHOLE

You two started to talk

by talk I mean you joining his little group (courtesy of Sero and Denki) and you guys exchanging like 3 words

You didn’t really talk

You just stared mindlessly into your food and chewed slowly, occasionally joining in on the conversation

You started talking to him more

And he started noticing more about you

Like how you stuttered slightly when someone suddenly asked you something

Or how you stopped talking in the middle of your sentence for a little while then continued talking (or ask him what you guys were talking about again)

Once he asked what you and Izuku were talking about after you got done talking with him

You thought for a couple of seconds then said ‘I forgot’

You also did this thing where you and him would talk, and you nodded aimlessly, then after he finished talking you would say something like ‘I wasn’t listening what were you saying?’

That usually led to him grumbling and reluctantly repeating what he said

Sometimes you ask weird weird questions

‘If I spent all your money on frogs would you be mad?’

Safe to say he checked your room for frogs

(spoiler he didn’t find any)(unfortunately)

MIDORIYA IZUKU

head empty couple head empty couple-

*COUGH*

ANYWAYS

You were in class 1-B, and he was in 1-A lets get that out of the way

So you guys never really interacted with each other

But one day

When he was going on a walk, he heard soft music coming from behind a bush

It sounded so peaceful (something like this (if you dont really like this kind of music, then you can just imagine another one! no worries :))

It confused the poor bby

So, as anyone would, he checked behind the bush (he tells himself it was to check for villains but we all know he’s lying)

and he sees you, laying in the starfish position on the grass

Your eyes were wide open, the sun making your skin look all the more beautiful

you suddenly turned on your stomach and laid face down

w - w h a t

He stared at you for a good second and poked you on your back

You sniffed and looked up at him, a doopey smile on your face

thats when he knew he would love you forever

then you just made little gremlin noises and rolled away with your phone in your hand

ANYWAYS

After that you two met up more often

Sometimes you did things without thinking

Like that one time you found a fluffy bee and named him Michael

Like he just walks in on you staring at a bee and it staring back at you

Then there was this other time you suddenly said ‘What if I fall 100 feet and have a bucket of water then pour it out in the last second before I hit the floor.. would I die?’

He had to stop you from doing that

Sometimes you just stare at him for a really long while

Then go back to whatever you were doing

Sometimes you also just lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling, playing with a string you attached to the ceiling of your dorm

he still doesn’t know why you did that

You had to let go of Michael the bee :(

TODOROKI SHOTO

HE AND YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF HEAD EMPTY

sometimes when you and him are studying together you write one little thing and just stare at it for a couple of minutes

Then you start writing once again GHEBJBJFERJ

Sometimes being head empty is hard smh ✋😔

One time you were listening to your playlist (could be any) and you had an unreadable expression on your face

then suddenly tears started falling down your face

But you weren’t sad

So you just sniffed and went to Todoroki’s dorm and face planted on his bed

it was 3am

You baffle him so much pLS SLOW DOWN-

Sometimes he’ll find you sitting at a bench somewhere doing that,, thing with your lips

You know

THE THING

You know when you blow air through your lips and they flap up and down?

If you know you know ✋

His favorite thing is when you stare at him or something else and part of your tongue is sticking out

YOU LOOK SO CUTE🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

YOU REMIND HIM OF A LITTLE CATT

(hehe picture isn’t mine)

ANYWAYS

Sometimes when you’re both walking together you stop talking so suddenly and play with your fingers

He stops walking and asks you what’s wrong

then you just kiss him on the nose and start walking again

he’s deadass just standing there like 🧍

Then there’s rare but welcomed times where you both are together and alone

just hanging out

And you’re doodling with some music on

You just stare mindlessly at the way your pencil/pen moves

Not even paying attention to what your drawing

LISTEN HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH SMH

one time you were making macaroni and forgot about it

lets just say you weren’t allowed in the kitchen after that

*COUGH* ITS BEEN LIKE A MONTH BUT UM HERE’S THIS PILE OF S H I - ANYWAYS I’m very sorry for the ooc characters! I’ve been out of touch with mha for a bit but I tried my best! Have a great day and as always, thanks for reading!!

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

Caramel Lattes

Marcus Moreno x Reader

Summary - You meet a handsome stranger in the nearby cafe and it becomes a weekly date.

This is part 1 of my Marcus fic

Master list / part 2

During the week, coffee equated to a quick cup while frantically getting ready for work. At the weekend, your coffee was a lot calmer. Taking time to enjoy a caramel latte while reading whatever book you were in the middle of. Since moving to the city, you found your new Saturday morning coffee spot.

You had found the cafe you were in today a few weeks ago. It was a perfect slice of heaven being a mix of a cafe and library. At the front, there were small tables and mis-matched chairs and at the back there were rows upon rows of books. As you walked in, shaking your umbrella while it was still out of the door, the smell of warm coffee and old books instantly filled your senses. It was a lot cosier in here than it was in the downpour outside.

You placed your umbrella in the umbrella rack, turning to face the barrister.

“Good morning,” you said as you reached the counter, “can I have a caramel latte please.”

“Extra caramel?”

“Yes, please,” you said, already tasting the sweet coffee in your mouth.

The woman smiled at you, telling you to find a table and that she would bring it over to you. You looked around, all but one of the tables already full. There was one left right in the corner with two empty chairs. As you reached the table, you took your jacket off and placed it over the heater next to you to dry. You sighed of relief bringing your book out of your bag noticing that it was still completely dry despite the thrashing rain outside.

You were so engrossed in the book, only having looked up to say thank you as your coffee was placed down in front of you that you hadn’t noticed the tall handsome man standing in front of your table until he cleared his throat.

“Is this seat taken?” his warm voice asked as his hand gripped at the seat across from you.

It took you a moment to answer, your eyes taking in the man in front of you. His warm brown eyes were looking deeply into yours, a gentle half smile on his face. His hair was the same colour as his eyes, a little darker. It looked like there had been some attempt to tame it this morning but any attempt had been stopped by the rain ready to drop of the curls splayed across his forehead.

“N-No,” you replied, pointing to his chair with a smile.

He smiled wider, thanking you as he sat down. As he took his jacket off to place over the back of his chair and brought his own book out of his bag, he turned to thank the woman placing his own coffee in front of him, showing off the dimple on his cheek and crinkles at the side of the eye. He gave off such a warm energy that the cafe already seemed brighter in the two minutes he had been in.

You looked back down to your book, trying to concentrate on the words in front of you. It was pointless. You read and re-read over the same sentence at least six times when all you wanted to do was take another look up at the handsome man in front of you.

“Is that any good?” the warm voice made you look back up at him again, “the book I mean, I’ve heard it’s meant to be good but it’s not my usual type.”

“I love it. It’s quite sad, not exactly an easy read, but the characters are written so beautifully. This is actually my second time reading it,” you admit.

The man smiled back, big enough to show off his dimple again.

“I guess I’ll have to give it a read, see if it’s as good as you make it out to be.”

“How is yours?” you ask, reading the name that was etched into the side of his book.

“It’s great! It’s about a detective who is investigating a murder in his home town,” he replied, sounding as excited as a young child who was showing off their newest toy.

“So, who does he think did it?” you ask, marking your page in your book before placing the book down.

“He’s not sure yet, but I think it’s his old best friend,” he said, while marking his page and setting his book down as well.

You both spent the rest of the morning talking, ignoring your books that had been discarded on the table. Another coffee each later and you found out that his daughter has moved to a swim team just down the street so this was his new cafe of choice while he waited during her practice. You learned that he was a single-dad, widowed a few years ago and no luck in the dating game he had recently went back to. You told him that you had just moved to the city and found this place when looking for a new Saturday morning coffee spot.

The conversation flowed easily after that, talking about everything from books and music to making up stories of others in the cafe, like the old man in the other corner who had been a spy before he retired or the woman who was a ghostwriter and looking for inspiration.

As you both sat laughing, he looked down at his watch and sighed.

“Missy is going to be out soon, I better head,” he said as he stood to put his now dry jacket on.

“Oh, well it was lovely meeting you-”

“Marcus,” he finished for you with a smile.

“Marcus,” you repeated before telling him your name, letting him repeat it as well.

Marcus stayed standing in front of you for a moment before getting enough courage to ask you.

“Maybe if you’re here next week we can do this again?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you answered.

Marcus smiled and pulled his hood up, ready to face the rain that still hadn’t let up outside. You watched as he walked out the door, his pace picking up as he got outside until he reached the window next to you, stopping slightly to smile and wave before running off down the street.

--------

The next week you get up a little earlier than usual, excited to see Marcus again. You looked out a comfortable but nice outfit, spending a bit more time getting ready, and packed the book you finished during the week to give to Marcus in your bag as well.

When you arrive, Marcus is already sitting at the same table as last week. He looks up as soon as he hears the bell of the door, something he had been doing for the last few customers as well. A wide grin comes to his face when he realises it is you and he stands to pull out a chair for you as you walk over.

“I ordered you a coffee, I hope you don’t mind. Caramel Latte right?” he asks.

“Good memory! Missy get dropped at swimming all good?”

He nods, smiling at the fact you asked about his daughter as well.

“Oh, before I forget!” you say while reaching into your bag, “here is that book I was reading last week for you to try. I finished it the other day. I hope you don’t mind but I scribble some notes down while I read.”

“Wow-I- Thank you,” he said smiling, “I actually brought you the one I had been reading for you to try as well. There are also some notes in mine as well.”

You both sit for a moment, smiling at one another as you swap your books over. You open his book, flipping through the pages and noticing the black pen marks scribbled across some pages. He does the same, finding your handwriting in blue, stopping on a page where he finds a love-heart in the corner.

“What’s this for?” he asks, tracing over it with his finger, “is this your favourite bit?”

“No, its- thats the page I was at when we met last week.”

You look down at the table, shying away from his eyes that are probably on your now and not wanting to see whatever expression was covering his face. When you finally look up you notice the smile that is wider than any you have seen before and that damn dimple. Theres a slight sparkle in his eyes as he goes to talk.

“Well, I see you use blue and I use black. Why don’t we leave each other our own notes?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.”

The morning goes in quickly again and you spend the hour and a half talking about everything and anything. You finally find out about his job, something you had been wondering all week. Apparently he is not a teacher, which is what you had imagined from his warm and welcoming energy, but the leader of the Heroics. While you had heard about them before, everyone had, you had never really paid much attention to them on the news. He asks about yours, listening and asking questions as you go. He tells you more about Missy and his mum and you tell him about your family who you were missing since you moved.

Before you know it, Marcus has to go get Missy again and you are both walking out the cafe door as he pays for both your drinks despite you protesting say it was your turn after he paid for your drinks last week. You both wait outside the cafe, standing awkwardly across from one another for a moment.

“Missy has a competition next week so I won’t be here but the week after?” he asks, looking down as he puts his hands in his pockets..

“It’s a date,” you nod with a smile.

“It’s a date,” he says as he looks up to smile back.

Marcus waits for a moment before leaning forward, giving you a quick hug and walking in the direction of Missy’s swimming practice. It had only been for a moment but you had been surrounded by his warmth and it was comfortable.

----------

You miss the cafe the next week, too busy reading the book Marcus had swapped with you. You found yourself leaving notes in blue as you went.

No way is it the best friend he is too nice!

I think its the old lady down the street, she seems too nosy

So it was the best friend! You should be a detective :)

About half way through the book there was a page with a note in black that read:

The day I met the most beautiful woman in the world.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the note, reading it over and over again. Tracing over the words with your fingertips.

----------

You found yourself even more excited this Saturday, looking forward to seeing Marcus after a week off. The butterflies in your stomach grew wilder the closer you got to the cafe. As you walked by the window of where you and Marcus had sat at the past two weeks there was no sign of him. You weren’t surprised, you were a bit earlier this week, but as you reached to open the door you heard that familiar voice call your name out.

Marcus was standing leaning against the other side of the cafe, two to-go cups in hand. He looked as handsome as ever, his grey t-shirt showing off his biceps more than you had seen before, his bright smile aimed towards you as he handed you a cup.

“It’s a lovely day today, how about we go for a walk around the park?”

“Sounds perfect and thank you for the coffee but I think it was my turn to pay!” you jokingly scold him.

“Well, you can just get the next one,” he replies with a wink.

You start by talking about the books you swapped. Marcus admits that he did cry a few times and he was wondering what you were putting him through until the end made up for it all. You told him that he should give up his superhero day-job and become a detective, explaining all your guesses of who did it before realising it was the best friend - him finding the old lady down the street guess particularly hilarious.

The conversation moves along to asking about how Missy’s competition went, leaning that she came first and Marcus embarrassed her by cheering louder than any other parent. You find a bench to sit on, enjoying the rest of the coffees as the spring sun warms you both.

“I missed seeing you last week,” you admit, turning to face him.

“I missed seeing you too. Not often I get to spend time with such beautiful company.”

“Hm I think your note said ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’,“ you teased, making him blush.

“I forgot about that when I gave it to you,” he admits shyly.

“Well, I am enjoying getting to spend time with such a handsome man.”

You sit for a minute longer, looking at all the spring flowers blooming around you both.

“Listen, I was wondering if maybe one day you would like to go out for dinner sometime? Let me take you on a proper date?”

You turn to look at the man who had for the most part been confident and sure of himself to find that there was some uncertainty in his eye, like he wasn’t sure you would say yes.

“I would love that, Marcus,” you say, reaching and giving his hand a squeeze.

The walk back to your car is comfortably quiet, every so often your hands brushing against one another and making you both turn to smile. The swimming pool where Missy trains is on the walk back to your car and you stop outside.

“So, I should probably give you my number then?”

“Oh yeah, that would help,” Marcus laughs, “sorry, I’m not great at this whole dating thing...”

“You’re doing pretty good so far,” you smile, putting your number and name in his phone. You watch as he takes it back, adding a blue love heart next to your name before saving it again.

“Dad?” you hear a voice call.

You both turn and see someone you couldn’t mistake for anyone other than Marcus’s daughter. She has the same mischievous smile he gives whenever he is teasing you. Marcus had shown you photos of her before but looking at them both in front of you, she was definitely his mini-me.

“Hi sweetie,” he says before introducing you both.

“Hi, its nice to meet you. Your dad has told me so much.”

“Dad has told me a lot about you too, you’re just as beautiful as he said,” she says looking back to her dad.

“Missy!” Marcus scolds as you both blush.

“Well, I hope the both of you enjoy the rest of your day, I better get going. I’ll talk to you?” you say, looking at Marcus.

“Can I call you later?” he asks.

“Of course.”

You say goodbye to Missy and turn to say goodbye to Marcus. He reaches and grabs your arm gently, placing a soft kiss to your cheek, before you give them both a wave and turn and walk away.

His lips had been so soft on your cheek, his hand gentle on your arm. You waited till you had rounded the corner before you let your hand reach up to touch where his lips had met you.

“She really is beautiful Dad,” Missy says as they watch you walk away.

“Told you,” he smiles down at his daughter, looking forward to getting to talk to you on the phone tonight and finally take you on a date.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno oneshot #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno headcannon #headcannon #oneshot #fic #marcus moreno fanfic #marcus moreno fanfiction #we can be heroes #pedro pascal

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iconicharry · 4 years

Note

can you do a small blurb or imagine where the reader is all bubbly and talkative and Harry finds her annoying. reader always wanted to befriend Harry but Harry one day snaps at her and she stops her usual jokes and playful behavior around him. Harry starts missing her and it's all fluff. pweaseee

i want to be friends with h :’)

“...and I just thought this will look the best on me because I read this thing where you should try on gold or silver jewellery in order to tell if cold or warm tones look better,” she takes a sip of her champagne. “Honestly, I can’t really see this on myself, so I just thought you could do nothing wrong with beige, right?” She chuckles and watches her nephew, freshly turned four, run around the backyard with a horde of other little humans, screeching and giggling.

It’s the first time she saw him again after a long time. Leo, the birthday boy, told her during all the birthday preparations that he wanted Harry to be there. She knows because he explicitly said he “wants uncle H to do that funny hand game they always play” and she can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt her heart a bit. Harry and her got along great, she’d say, her older brother Ezra introduced them two at a get together in his apartment as he graduated college. YN liked having him in their friend group. With his charm and humour he managed to have her wanted to befriend him immediately.

That was until he stopped seeing his friends and only spent time with his new girlfriend. Ezra told her they met at some gala and it immediately sparked between them. His words, not hers. And YN would lie if she’d say she wasn’t one tiny bit jealous, because of course she was. He’s a good friend but to expierence him dropping his friends just like that when he meets someone is worse than just letting it die down.

So here she is, bubbly with excitement as she finally catches up with him, but worry in her as Ezra told her in passing that they recently broke it off. Harry was single. And thats stings. They break up and he suddenly has time for them again? Suddenly, he isn’t too good for them anymore?

“YN, I need to interrupt right here. Hold your thought. I need a wee, alright?” His voice breaks her story from the time she made a leash for her dog herself.

Her brows shoot up, slowly nodding. “Uh...yes. Yes, of course.”

Harry sends a pressed smile before he hurries through the crowd to the bathroom. Locking the door, he leans his hands on the sink, watching himself in the mirror.

It’s hell.

He thought it would be a nice distraction to see all his friends and Leo again. Keep his minds off the obvious things. But they bombarded him with happiness and questions and stories and Harry feels like he is going to explode.

Of course he knows what a shitty friend he was. For fucks sake, he just cut them off as he fell stupidly in love. Yes, it’s fucking wrong of him to appear out of nowhere and get in contact again, after not even explaining what happened. Yes, they are the fucking best for forgiving him and acting normal. But yes, it’s too much to have them all babbling in his ear like nothing happened, too. Having YN talk his ear off. He likes her. Harry finds her cute as fuck. With her pretty little smile that seems to always adorn her face and the sparkly eyes that look at you as if you’d hung the moon. But she even talks not little.

A series of knocks snap him out of his thoughts. “Harry? I know you needed a wee, but Leo is asking for you,” she chuckles, “I’d say you shouldn’t keep the birthday boy waiting.”

A scowl sets itself deep in his features as he freshens up with splashing water in his face and a heavy sigh.

“Remember Leo’s last birthday? He had so much fun with the frosting of the cake you brought.” A silence followed. “You know... he really missed you. I mean— we all did, but I think he kinda suffered—”

The door swings open, sudden and fast, and Harry stands under the frame of the door. His brows are set deep and his nostrils fluttering almost dangerous. “Let’s not talk about it.” Harry tries to contain himself and keep calm.

Confusion washes over her face before she snaps out of it, shaking her head at herself. “Sorry, I was just saying that it was a hard time for us as—”

“I said to let it go, didn’t I?” His body squeezes around hers, stepping out of the bathroom and walking to the kitchen with a quick step.

YN struggles to follow, but does nonetheless. “Sorry. Again.” She watches as he pours himself another drink, downing it in one swing as he glances at her over the rim of the cup as she smiles at him.

By now he just wants to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I read something recently. It was funny because it said—”

“My god, YN!” He loosens it. “Do you ever stop talking? Don’t you have something better to do or be? Make sure the kids are save?”

“I-I don’t know... What do you—”

He rolls his eyes. “Just go to someone else and bore them with the things you read. Pleae spare me.”

By any means, she is not a crybaby, but hearing the person you admire, even look up to, tell you you are just an annoyance with everything you do is bad. Her heart practically breaks open as his restless eyes stare her down. She feels small. Tiny even. And therefore she can’t help the tears that gather along the lower lashes. She tries to blink them away and quickly swallows the clump in her throat that starts to hurt. She rasps an “okay” at him and disappears out of there. Away from the kitchen. Away from him.

Leaving Harry alone.

He curses himself. A hand comes up to tug at his hair in frustration. Now he’s the arsehole. Great.

But someone notices it. Whatever it is. Perhaps it’s how YN sat in the corner of the room while everyone snuggled together on the huge couch to watch Leo’s favourite movie. Perhaps how Harry glanced her direction every few seconds. Or perhaps how she didn’t talk to anyone anymore that evening. But perhaps how everyone felt the tension like thick cheese one pizza. At least that’s what Harry thought as he scooped the big piece of pizza into him. He sadly made it a habit to eat in frustration.

So now she has a pouty, little four year old sitting in her lap. “But I jus’ don’t understand!” His tiny hands grasp her cheeks. “Did I do something?”

“No, love, you didn’t do anything. I just feel like this sometimes.” Her hands run through his silky hair. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“It’s Uncle H, isn’t it?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m sure, because he didn’t play that hand game with me and you didn’t tell me one of your granny jokes!”

“Hey! They are not ‘granny jokes’!” YN playfully pinches his cheeks.

“So it is Uncle H? What did he do? Did he pull your hair? Because mummy always says I should apologize if I did.”

A sudden burst of love runs through her for this sweet boy. But it drops as she sees Harry entering the room behind the boy and watches their interaction. “No, he didn’t pull my hair. Everything’s fine.”

“Did he steal your pencil?! Oh no!” He gasps.

Harry steps beside them, ruffling his hand through his hair, making it a mess. “I did steal her pencil. You think I should apologize, mate?”

Leo squirms in her lap and holds his arms up at Harry. So he lens downs and easily sets him on the side of his hip. “Of course! If not, I have to get mummy to scold you!”

Harry breathes a chuckle, eyes staying on YN as she avoids meeting his eyes. “Uhmm...”

He notices the hesitation. “Dearest YN,” Leo cups his hands around his mouth and whispers in his ear.

Her head shoots up to them. Harry still stares down at her as the corner of his lips kink up. “Dearest YN.”

“I’m sorry for stealing your pencil.” He repeats Leo’s words, eyes crinkling with the smile he wears. “I’m well aware that you probably like the pencil with how sad you looked today.” He pauses as the boy whispers another sentence. “I now know I shouldn’t do it again and I promise t leave you be if you want me to.” But his smile falters when he sees YN’s eyes dropping to the floor again and then back up. This time with a forgiving smile. “But I hope we can still be friends.”

With a friendly smile she stands up and brushes a strand of hair out of her nephew’s eyes. “Leo, baby, would you leave us alone for a sec?”

He frantically nods and scrambles down Harry’s arms, who tries to not let him fall down.

It’s silent when they’re alone. Unspoken things between them creating an uncomfortable silence that isn’t welcomed. So they begin to speak.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I’m glad you came to me—”

His hands that just were gesturing between them dropped dead to his sides and YN’s teeth catch her bottom lip, staring at his shoes.

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. “Can I start?” His eyes search hers, trying to find her acceptance and understanding, and in fact receiving a spark of a smile. “Listen, okay? I’m so- so sorry. I don’t even know what happened there. I...,” he trails of, one hand scratching under his chin where a stubble starts to form. “I was stressed these last few days— weeks— and, fuck, I still am, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean that. I love when you talk about random stuff that you read somewhere, because it’s interesting, it’s funny. It’s just your thing, right? And I love that we can talk about absolutely everything. That person in the bathroom, ...that wasn’t me. That was the grumpy, arrogant side of me that left his best friends because of some person, then got his heart broken and couldn’t even swallow his own fucking pride to apologize to them and waited too long and just acted like nothing happened. YN, obviously you don’t have to forgive me, because I understand I’m an arsehole—”

“Okay, it’s enough.”

Harry freezes, brows drawing a deep line. “W-what?”

YN takes a step towards him and envelopes his huge hands in her small ones. He notices they’re warm and soft as her thumb brushes along his knuckles, calming him down. “It’s enough, H. I get it, okay? I’m not stupid. I know what it’s like and I know you. It’s sweet of you to apologize but you had me since Leo helped you,” a grin breaks out on her face. “I can imagine how tough that time was and still is for you, but I’m your friend and friends are there for you no matter what, no? I wouldn’t say it didn’t hurt a tiny bit, because I know I talk a lot. I’m not mad with you. I just want my friend back.”

She whispers the last part and Harry can’t help the layer of tears that gloss over his eyes and the curl in his lips that creates a deep dimple in his cheek— upwards because of happiness and downwards because of all the emotions— so it’s a weird laugh that escapes his throat at the same time a sob rolls through his body. He sets his stare on the floor and tries to will the tears away with a shake of his head, curls flopping, but YN slings her arms tight around his torso and her face squishes against his collarbone, leaving a quick kiss at his throat. Like a warm blanket he gets swallowed whole. “It’s okay to feel weak sometimes. ’M here for you, H.”

And with that in mind, he wraps his long arms around her shoulders, squeezing her some more, and lets himself cry it all out.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles request #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #best friend harry #myblurbs

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ezrasarm · 4 years

Note

Situation 1 and quote 14 with Frankie for the drabble request please? 🥺👉👈

Roommates Part 1: Just As You Are

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Pining, yearning, a tad bit of fluff and protective!Santiago deserves his own warning.

Request: Roommate AU + “Well geez, if you don’t like what I’m wearing, I can go and change.”

A/N: This was a ton of fun to write, it’s reminiscent of the New Girl AU I was considering and I am in no way offended by that! So thank you for the request, I hope you like it and I am seriously, seriously considering writing a part 2 to this so lemme know what you think...

Roommates Masterlist | next chapter –>

You were already running behind. Having gotten caught up with work for most of the afternoon, you wound up stuck at the office for an extra couple hours and now your date was due to arrive any minute and you weren’t even ready. You were still trying to put your earrings in as you rushed down the hallway from your room. “Hey, would one of you mind-“ You found yourself pausing mid sentence, brows furrowed in confusion at the looks both Frankie and Santiago sent you from their place on the couch.

“What is it?” You asked, eyes flitting between the two of them before looking down at yourself and back up at them. “Is- is it the dress?” You asked, a look of concern crossing over your features. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. Normally you didn’t care about things like this. If it didn’t go well, it didn’t go well. No big deal. But it felt different this time. You hadn’t gone on a date for so long you felt like you didn’t know what you were doing anymore and the way the boys were just gaping at you wasn’t helping to settle your nerves at all. “Is it too little?” You ask, “Too much?!” You go on, suddenly feeling completely unprepared for what you were getting yourself into.

There was a moment where Frankie’s mouth opened as though he were about to speak but the words caught in the back of his throat and instead a sound you couldn’t describe hissed from the back of his throat before he slammed it back shut just as fast. The expression on his face was reminiscent of a fish out of water and Santiago was no help either with the way his eyebrows rose in what- was that shock? What could possibly be so shocking? What had gotten into these two tonight? “Well geez, if you don’t like it I can go change!” You exclaimed, just getting ready to give up hope on the two as you turned away, muttering something about how you knew you should have gone with the black dress instead.

“Woah, woah, woah! No! Don’t do that!” Frankie exclaimed now, just about leaping out of his seat at the idea. He couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at you like that. God, he had to get his thoughts under control. “...unless you want to.” He shrugged in an attempt to regain some of his composure when you turned back to look at him. “You look...” Frankie’s words had failed him again the moment he tried to get his thoughts out.

“Beautiful.” Santiago stepped in to Frankie’s rescue this time. “You look beautiful.” He said once more.

“Sorry,” you sigh heavily, a self deprecating chuckle rising from your chest. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just nervous.” You explain, the knot in your stomach still not showing any signs of loosening any time soon. “My uh- this zipper is being a pain, could I get a hand?” You ask, finally reminding yourself as to why it was you came out here in the first place.

“Frankie’s got it.” Santi blurts out with out a second thought, giving Frankie a harsh nudge to the elbow.

It was no secret- ...okay, it was a secret. It was a poorly kept secret that Frankie had feelings for you. They came on quick. Out of the blue, and despite how much he had told himself he was just about over the stupid, little crush he had developed, even he couldn’t deny that that lie he had been telling himself got smashed into just about a million pieces the moment you stepped out of your room looking like that. You were his roommate. He couldn’t look at you that way. He had decided that quite some time ago when he felt himself slipping like this in the first place, and now it was happening all over again.

“Right Frankie?” Santiago nudges him once again and he’s snapped out of whatever dream-like trance he had been dragged into against his will by that goddamn dress you were wearing.

“Hmm? Oh- Right.” Frankie nods, getting up from his place on the couch. Santiago can’t help but notice the way he stands a little closer to you than necessary. His head hung low, close enough to smell your shampoo as a fiddled with the zipper at your lower back, a little too distracted by the exposed skin for his own good.

A knock rang out through the room and your head shot up immediately. “I’ll get it!” Pope exclaimed, a little too keen for your liking as he leapt over the back of the couch.

“No! That’s fine, I can-”

“I said I’d get it!” He repeated, already bounding towards the door, way too excited not to be up to something.

“Don’t say anything stupid!” You call after him even though you know he’s gonna do and say whatever he damn well pleases, whether you like it or not.

“You shouldn’t be nervous, you know.” Frankie says as he finally gets the zipper unjammed and drags it up your back. “You’re gonna kill it. And if he doesn’t like you just as you are then I think he’s insane and he isn’t worth another second of your time.” He goes on. He’s not quite sure why he’s saying all of this. There’s a voice in the back of his head thats screaming at him to tell you the very opposite, hijack this date and keep you here with him as long as he possibly can. Instead, he swallows down the jealousy thats beginning to cloud his mind. That had him wishing you were getting all dolled up like that so he could be the one to take you to a fancy restaurant and spoil you with food and wine he couldn’t afford just to see that classic smile of yours and know it was for him. “You look great.” He says, spinning you around so you’re forced to look him in the eye.

Theres a softness and sincerity there that you didn’t often think of when it came to him and it makes that knot in your stomach tighten just a little more in what you excuse as nothing more than anticipation for the date even though a little part of you knows its not. You find your cheeks heating up and a bashful smile curling at the corners of your lips as you look up at him before a thought crosses your mind and you clear your throat, taking a step back from him as you glance down at your feet awkwardly. “Thank you, Frankie.” You blurt out, giving his hand a squeeze and pecking a kiss to his cheek so fast he wasn’t even sure it had happened as you rushed off towards the door to go save your date from whatever torment Santiago was putting him through.

God, he was screwed.

Roommates Masterlist | next chapter –>

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rreeaahh · 3 years

Text

Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

“Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

“No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms

#vogueweasley3k #draco malfoy x reader #ravenclaw reader #draco x y/n #slowburn #angst #arms tonite #draco x you #hogwarts #astronomy tower #tw death #tw blood #tw mature languge

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bowtied-pasta · 4 years

Text

Soulmate marathon part 2

Its impossible to lie to your soulmate

Character: Ben

Working as the only full timer at a gamestop can really drive you wild. Between karen mothers that want to buy their baby boys the best there is because they deserve it to the frankly odd men that decide you were just fresh for the picking despite the fact that soulmates existed, youve pretty much seen it all.

Most customers are normal though, stereotypes not having been one to rule your town, the same can be said about your store. Well, not your store, but for tonight it is. The manager out of town on vacation, you were left in charge of the place for the week. Being entrusted with closing while another manager from the next town over was asked to open for the part timers to function during the day.

You almost always got to see the same customers, day in and day out. That being said, you definetly noticed the three new faces that walked into the store as the sun touched the horizon, making you glance at your watch. 6pm is what it read, a perfectly normal time for the sun to set around this time of year.

You could have been able to tell that the young men who walked in were new to the store just based on how they behaved when walking in, but you also see a lot of the same faces because of repeat buisness. All work has a pattern, it just takes a worker to figure it out.

You announce your presence behind the counter, telling them to take their time and to ask you any questions if they need any help with anything. They nod in confirmation and go about their buisness, looking for whatever it is that they had their minds set on when entering.

You continue checking all the stuff that the part timers left in their hurricane-like wake, they never did have the best organizational skills, and it never failed to set off your slight ocd. Always finding small things to adjust.

You begin logging into your till as you see them make their way over to you, each of them setting a few games down on the counter and you begin scanning them up.

“Did you guys find everything you were looking for?”

“No, but its fine. I know you wont have it, were stopping somewhere else for it.”

The one in the middle responded. The green beanie on top of his blonde headed self reminding you of Link, you suppose it would only be cemented by the taller, darker version of him that was standing right next to him. The last one ridiculously reminded you of a pokemon trainer, the clothes matching well with a certain mobile app that had come out a while ago.

You scan the last game and sigh a bit when a message pops up on the screen. Great... that god awful thing that nobody wanted to be asked for.

“Alright, which one of you is paying, because I need to see..... uh......”

As you were about to ask for an ID your screen blacked out for a moment, making you worry that the jacked up system had finally decided to crash, only for it to come back up and show you that an ID was no longer required. You frown at that, glancing at the game and seeing the rating that said M.

“Whats up?”

You glance up at the men, beanie smiling at you sweetly as if he knew something you didnt.

“Oh. Nothing, guess the computer is slow tonight. It almost had me asking for your ID.”

You smile at them as you shrug a bit, slipping the last game into the bag as you wrap up with checking them out.

“Alright, totals 260.... How are all of you doing tonight?”

Goth boy and pokemon dude, as you had mentally dubbed them, both gave shrugs and mumbled answers of being alright, but the guy in the beanie shocked you with his honesty.

“Im dead. Yourself?”

Goth boy and pokemon dude both whip their heads to gawk at the other, their eyes wide. Making you laugh a bit.

“Im certainly feeling like it. If I have to close this bitch down one more time I think I’ll just burn it instead.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you end your sentence. Thats not how you should talk to customers.... why didnt you say your usual shit in your customer service voice? Could he be...

You dont get much time to say much else as pokemon dude whips out a credit card, swiping it quickly as he can before grabbing the bag with the games in it and reaching over the counter to grab the freshly printed reciept. Wrapping his arm around the frozen blonde as he made his way out the door quickly.

Goth boy stood at the counter, eyeing you closely for a few moments before taking the pen on the counter and writing a number on a piece of paper that he slid closer to him on the counter. He wordlessly clicks the pen again and lays it back on the counter, sliding the paper your way with a small smirk.

“His name is Ben. Thats his number, but try not to break him, hes new to being honest.”

And with that he makes his way out the door, off to catch up with his friends that had disappeared in a rush.

#ben #soulmate au #soulmate marathon #creepypasta x reader

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 17

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

“Push me off the roof you coward!”

First< Previous > Next

------

“So do you want to be Batman or should I?” Marion brings out the two outfits identical in every way except size.

“It’s not actually dressing up,” Marinette scolds fixing her hair.

“Well then you single handedly ruined halloween,” Marion grins coming up behind her, “Everyone wears them for it,”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Marinette watches him warily in the mirror, prepared to defend if-when he makes a move to mess up her hair.

“So Batman or Robin?” Marion holds the outfits up, dangerous close to her head.

“I don’t care,” Marinette stands up, spinning around, using the chair as a shield.

“Coin flip then,” Marion drapes them over the chair, “Oooh foreshadowing!”

“Please tell me you're going to take this marginally seriously?” Marinette leans back on the dresser as he fishes for a coin.

“You’re starting to sound like our manager,” Marion flips the coin with extra flare, “Heads,”

“You should thank Kate for setting this up,” Marinette catches the coin before he can, “Tails,”

She takes the Robin outfit from the chair, ducking Marion as she passes.

“You know I don’t think Kate wants to see me,” Marion takes his outfit behind the opposite curtain, “She's pretty stressed something will go wrong,”

“In Gotham?” Marinette pokes her head out the curtain on the other side of the room.

“I know, crazy right,” Marion also peaks through the curtain, “Where would she get that idea?”

“Who knows?” Marinette cheekily grins before ducking back behind the curtain.

“If we get attacked again I think we might give aunt- I mean,” Marion pauses pulling on his grey turtleneck, “ugh, this is hard,”

“Mari, the outfits are designed for easy use,” Marinette teases, tone sounding half hearted even from this distance.

“What are you calling her in your head?” Marion pulls the turtle neck down all the way.

“Selina,” Marinette answers, as he shrugs on his hooded crop top over the turtleneck, split into two colours to make a vague bat-shape. “Although I just avoid saying it out loud,”

“Great minds think alike,” Marion pulls on his grey leggings, that Marinette had thankfully made into thermals.

“I’m the only great mind here,” Marinette teases, Marion lets out fake gasp as he pulls a pair of shorts over his leggings, “You just like to copy,”

“How dare you!” Marion pulls the curtains aside dramatically, Marinette doesn't even look up from where she's putting on bracelets, “Dishonour! Dishonour on you, Dishonour on your kwami! Dis-”

“Hey!” Tikki flies out of the backpack.

“Sorry Tikki,” Marion looks away from the fuming Kwami, trying to avoid her by pulling on his black and blue boots.

“It’s ok Tikki,” Marinette finishes putting green and gold bracelets up to her elbows, “He’s just trying to be funny,”

“And succeeding!” Marion corrects, smoothing a mask over his eyes.

“Ah-ha,” Marinette stands, black and yellow scarf flaring out at the back.

“You know I don’t think she agrees,” Marion stage whispers to Plagg from his bag.

“Ah-ha,” Plagg says in the same tone, as Marion is pulling on his black gloves.

“Traitors, all of you,”

“Hey look,” Marinette bumps his shoulder, nodding towards someone.

“It’s Jason,” Marion whispers back excitedly, moving to wave.

“MCD doesn't know him,” Marinette grabs his arm, “Let’s hope this isn’t as awkward as it was with Chloe,”

“I thought that was fun,”

“Of course you did,”

"Hi," Jason approaches nervously, completely different to how Marion's met him before, it's cute.

"Oh hello, stranger," Marion grins, ignoring the kick from Marinette, he'll be careful, it's fine he's got this, "Whats your name?"

"Jason," Oh my God he's blushing!

"Jasin," Marion repeats pretending to write on what he was handed.

"Um…." Jason looks like he's about to correct Marion, this will be perfect- "yep,"

Fuck fuck fuck i though he would correct me fuck, Marinette help! Marinette rolls her eyes at his pleading look.

"Jason, CD," Pointing to the page without writing, "son,"

"Ohhhh Jason,” Marion says, as if he had come to some amazing realisation, Marinette looks like she wants to slap him, “haha, sorry, of course, I just didn’t hear you right, because I don’t know your name, why would I know your name? It's-"

Marinette rightfully cuts off his rambling with a swift kick, that both knew would never actually hurt him. At least Jason looks just as embarrassed as him, neither quite knowing how to start the conversation back up,"

"How about we take a picture?" Marinette says, their saving grace.

"Yeah, that would be great," Jason fumbles for his phone, Marion hopes his mask will cover his blush, as he remembers what Jason had said about him at dinner, the only reason he was blushing.

They take a nice picture together. Then one where Marion throws bunny ears behind MDC. She swats his hand away and he pushes her out of frame. The next picture is one of him and Jason with Marinette rising up, like a threatening blur in the background.

"Aw thats a nice picture" Marion looks over Jason shoulder, they were meant to be with the next person already but they were a design hopeful, babbling to MDC about her designs, "You should send it to me,"

"Of course," Jason seems flustered with his proximity, enough so that he didn't see Marion's trap.

"Great heres my number," Marion quickly writes it down on blank piece of paper, a picture seeming a bit too narcissistic at that point.

"...Waut,"

"Well you have to send it to me someway," Marion shrugs, conveniently ignori-forgetting that pictures were sent through his social media all the time.

"Right... right," Jason seems to be in a bit of a daze when Marion sends him off, standing next to Marinette as the fan leaves.

They watch Jason leave. Marinette starts giggling when he almost runs into a wall.

“Are you ok?" Marion asks, partly for the security guard who was waiting for their ok to send the next person up.

“You are such a dork,” She breaths through her upcoming laughter, “I think I need a minute,”

“Fine but if I get a hopeful fashion designer I’m telling them your new direction is crocs,” Marion huffs, not really insulted, but if he didn't act it she would only up the anti.

“Do it and your casket will be made out of crocs,” Marinette threatens ineffectively, walking to the backstage door.

“I kinda want to see that,”

“You’d be dead,” Marinette calls from the door.

“Minor issue,”

Marinette waves him off, which could have been an aborted swat. He watches as the crowd nearby begin whispering, some offering others to go first to stall for time. Marion plans to shove this in her face next time Marinette claims she isn’t popular. He’s about to take a camera out for evidence when one of the groups, fast tracked but the crowd, approaches.

Marion goes to do his more basic greetings when a gun is shoved in his face. The group made up of armed men surrounding him, one holding a camera.

“Smile for the camera,” The figure pulls his coat back, revealing the frankly disturbing face of the Joker.

“Oh it’s you,” Marion keeps a blank face, evidently confusing him, “Any chance two-face will show up?”

“.... No?” Marion fights to keep his composure as the crowd are threatened by the remaining thugs, pushing them to the ground.

“Pity, what a waste of good foreshadowing,” Marion shrugs casually, that camera is probably filming.

“What,” Marion supposes its a rare thing to see the Joker taken aback, but watching a group of armed men storm backstage distracts him from the sight.

“Nothing, I just made a brilliant joke earlier and you're sort of ruining it,” Marion makes exaggerated gestures, testing his limits, the guns follow him but don’t shoot. “Anyway are you here for an autograph or what?”

“I’m not-” He watches the Joker's face twist in gruesome realisation, “you’re trying to stall me,”

“Stall you from what?” Marion tries not to make his scan of the crowd obvious, “Please go in depth,”

“How about on the way up to the roof?” Chilling smile, but Marion is too used to fear to let it get to him.

“Oh goodie, I hear it has wonderful views,” Marion claps his hands, probably getting weird looks from the goons hiding behind masks, but who are they to judge?

He’s guided to the elevator. The Joker making the mistake of not tying his hands, or gagging him. He feels Kaalki and Plagg tense in his pocket.

“Huh, no elevator music,” Marion observes as the elevator starts to rise, “I just kind of expected it at this point,”

“You are strange,” Marion makes the mistake of glancing over, the Joker does not seem perturbed by that fact.

“You’re telling me that?” Marion tilts his head, “Actually that's quite the achievement,”

The Joker starts to go on about his plan, something about throwing MCD off the roof in front of the crowd for whatever reason, he’s not really listening. No, instead he’s made his own plan. There's no way Marinette was caught, not when she has no one to look after. She must be somewhere in the building, probably as Sparrow. It’s best if Sparrow and Songbird are seen near their other identities as little as possible, so he had to deal with the camera. If she saw the footage, which was probably being broadcast (a brilliant idea, really, no problems with that) she would intercept them. The best position would be on the elevator, but he had to buy time.

The cameras closest so he strikes, hitting it out of the goons hand, mid sentence. In the split second confusion he hits the number panel, lighting up all but a few.

“Huh, that was easy,” Marion says with genuine surprise.

“And here I thought you were being a good hostage,” Marion feels several guns press against him, but it’s only the pistol with the Joker at the end that worries him.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Marion smirks cockily, the threats turning more violent.

No, not threats, promises. Marion debates calling on Kaalki, while he’s still able too. It wouldn’t be great for a miraculous to be seen in a different country, but better than the one that can teleport than Ladybug. If Marinette couldn’t stop them in time she would surely turn to Ladybug and pick him up as he falls, right in front of the crowd and cameras. Not great.

There were other heroes in Gotham, they both knew. And if it was just him at stake he would put faith in them. But it’s not. He’s Chat Noir and there's not enough time to train a new Black Cat, not anymore.

The elevator finally reaches the top. Marion braces to help Marinette fight on the other side of the door. It opens. There’s no one. Great, great, great .

“Well, well, well why don’t we see what's behind that mask and carve up your pretty face, hm?” Joker leads him close enough to the edge of the building that anyone else should be scared.

“That sounds counter productive,” Might as well try plan b, he should have come up with one, but as is he’ll have to wing it, “Weren’t you going to throw me off the roof?”

“Eager aren't you?” Not really “After, promise,”

That grin paired with the knife inching closer should scare him, but honestly the only thing that truly scares him anymore is someone going for his ring, or Ladybug’s.

“What's the point? I’d be dead soon anyway, sounds like a waste of time,” Marion debates adding a yawn to match the tone, but it seems like overkill.

“A few screams are never a waste of time,” Marion is backed up further to the edge of the roof, able to see the fretting crowd below.

“Sounds to me like you just don’t have any confidence,” Marion says with all the sass he can muster, which is a lot.

“Oh, do explain,” The knife inching closer to the edge of his mask encourages the opposite, but he was never much good with warnings.

“If you really believe your plan will work and I wouldn’t be saved by I-don’t-know, Batman?” Yep that strikes a cord, probably not the best cord to strike with a knife in your face, oh well his wounds will heal soon anyway, “Then you’d throw me over the roof, a few cuts doesn't matter much when your dead,”

He can see the gears turning, debating if there's merit to his bullshit or if it’s just that. Honestly Marion doesn't know either.

“Revealing my identity and stuff is just a way for you to feel like you’ve won when Batman beats you,” He carefully doesn't emphasise the ‘when’, making it sound casual, like a given fact, “Cutting my face is just admitting you think the heroes will win,”

Just a little bit more. He’s almost pulled off plan ‘b’ for bat-shit crazy. He has the horse miraculous in his grip, Kaalki won’t like it but it's hard to put glasses on in mid air.

“Besides, won’t the mask leave a bit more impact?”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“You really think the Bats going to save you huh?” The grin is unnerving, so Marion matches it with one of his own.

“I do,” He challenges, chin tilted up, “do you,”

He hears a cackle that would have surely appeared in his fear toxin dream if he heard it before. He’s pushed, vest twisted in the jokers grip, trying to stay balanced on the very edge.

“I like you kid,” And yeah, by that smile it’s not a good thing.

“Goodie,” Marion says sardonically, ignoring the shouting below, probably because his torso is all the way off the edge.

“Make sure to scream,” He feels the grip loosen, not having the natural response to grab onto something.

“I won’t,” he sends one last smirk as he’s dropped, weight sending him off balance and off the edge.

He’s in free fall and knows the screaming is not his own. He’s too busy debating the right time to transform. The street is getting closer and closer, no staff or grappling hook to save him.

“Klakki!-”

The air gets knocked out of him at the sudden change in directions. He can feel the arm and hears the glass shattering. For all the speed of a few seconds ago he is not expecting the quiet that follows. He’s leaning forward against someone's chest, both crouched down inside the building he just fell from. He recognises the shade of red first, Marinette had spent weeks with it pinned up all over their room and Marion has been wearing it ever since. He relaxes.

“Are you ok?” He gets pulled back from the chest, his complaints are cut off, a gloved hand tracing over his cheek, he feels the sting so it must be cut.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Probably not convincing, since his crush is the closest he’s ever been and Marion is almost the same shade of red.

“You’re fine?” The disbelief is clear and it takes Marion a second to realise why.

“I mean… Oh no! Trauma!” Marion tries to fall dramatically but the arm still on his back catches him.

“Good thing you’re a popstar not an actor,” Marion feels relief at the stiff atmosphere relaxing.

“Excuse you,” He snaps back up, poking Red Hood’s chest, smirking, “I’d make a wonderful actor,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Red Hood looks away, as far as Marion can tell with the helmet, “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, are you?” Marion stresses, remembering that he broke through the glass.

“... what?” Red Hood's full attention comes back to him.

“Are you ok?” Marion tries not to get annoyed at the answer, humour then, “After all breaking through a window isn’t much fun,”

You idiot you can't use his line on him ! Not in different identities! What if he figures it out?!

“Yeah.. yeah," He looks away again, "I’m… great,”

Marion smiles, guess things did turn out great in the end.

“CD!” Marion jumps out his skin, both suddenly realising how they looked and stand, Marinette runs right up to him, “Are you ok!?”

“Yep I’m… great,” Marion exchanges a private glance with Red Hood as Marinette frets over him.

“Thank goodness,” She sighs, shoulders sagging, then coming back up to hit him over the head, “Then why are you such an idiot!”

“Natural talent?” Marion rubs the spot, she put some Ladybug strength in that one.

“At least you’re good at something,” She sighs, brushing her hand over the spot.

“Rude,” Marion pouts, even as his head feels better, and his cut is startling to close up.

“If every things ok then,” Red Hood says awkwardly, “I’ve got a clown to go beat up,”

I Forgot!! How do you forget that! Marion yells at himself When your crush saves you from falling to your death…. Less romantic than it seemed in the moment.

“Have fun….” Marion waves, increasing the awkwardness ten fold, “dear god, I am an idiot!”

He groans into Marinette's shoulder after Red Hood left.

“Yes, but blush later, we need to be ready to provide backup,” Marinette pulls him out of the room stepping over broken glass.

“Uh- yeah! Right! lets go,” Marion snaps out of it, running after her.

“You are such a mess,” She insults as they jog, or with their speed, sprint up the stairs.

“Of all people you don’t get to call me that,” Marion needn't remind her of how she spilt orange juice all over herself at breakfast.

“... You just fell off a building, I was talking about your clothes,” Marinette has on her, ‘you’re an idiot’ face, well practiced that one.

“Oh,”

“But yeah you are a walking disaster,” She speeds up.

“Hey!” Marion sprints after her.

They reach the roof, not as out of breath as they should be.

“I thought I told you to stay put?” Red Hood snaps, alone on the roof.

“You didn’t,” They chorus coincidentally.

“I thought you had common sense,”

“We don’t,” They chorus on purpose.

Red Hood just shakes his head, probably smiling under the helmet.

“So the Joker escaped?” Marinette is the first to wipe the grin off her face.

“He was gone when I got up here,” Red Hood shrugs, “Waiting on intel,”

Probably from oracle.

“I didn’t say thank you!” Marion realises, not used to being the one saved.

“You don’t have to,” He looks away again, “Just doing my job,”

“But I want to,” Marion walks into his line of sight “So thank you,”

“Yeah well… thanks too I guess,” He looks away again and it's starting to get annoying.

“For what,” Marion leans over enough that he should be in sight, but he can't see his eye to confirm.

“I like the outfit you designed off me,” Marion freezes, almost stumbling over, “The interview was… entertaining,”

With that killing blow, a grappling hook is sent out and Red Hook is whisked away.

“.... Hey, can I borrow your miraculous?” Marion says blankly when Marinette comes to stand by him, “I need to wish myself out of existence real quick,”

----------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #Mismatch #Marinette #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante au #pop star au #bio dad au #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #Maribat #mlb

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bi-robins-club · 4 years

Text

jason had just settled onto his couch with a jane austen novel and his favourite peach iced tea when damian crept in through his window. he sighed internally and decided to simply ignore him. he had told damian to use the front door (nevermind the fact that jason rarely used the door) and more importantly? he was freaking comfortable. after a few minutes as jason flipped idly through the book, damian cleared his throat. jason sighed again, outwardly this time and reluctantly dragged his eyes up to his youngest brother. baby bat was shivering slightly from the rain outside and jason simply rasied an eyebrow as he sipped at his tea. scowling, dami stomped over to jasons bathroom to dry off. he rolled his eyes. how dramatic. damian was acting like he sentenced titus and alfred the cat to their deaths instead of how he was actually saving jason from deep cleaning his rain soaked carpet. (he was still going to deep clean the carpet the next time he tidied up but still)

when damian stalked back into the room, looking less like a wet, angry kitten and more like a dry, angry kitten, jason titled his head back and established eye contact.

"so what brings you over to my neck of the woods, demon spawn?"

instead of snapping back like jason expected, damian simply stood there looking extremely uncomfortable. he shuffled his feet, opened his mouth then closed it and sat next to jason on the couch he splurged way too much on.

"i don't know how to tell you this" dami began, hesitant "but i believe harper is experiencing thoughts of suicide"

jason jerked up, almost knocking over his tea (and what a damn waste that would be) before fixing damian with a look. he hadnt noticed anything different in roy lately but he knew more than anyone that depression acted strangely and was hard to pinpoint. his mind raced with thoughts of why roy might be suddenly suicidal, from a sudden relapse to not getting a happy meal toy included in his 3.99 box of clogged arteries. "why do you say that, damian?"

"i have been keeping an eye on his health since he became a close confidant to you and last night he said something worrying that i am still not able to parse the meaning of" jason smiled lightly at that, in damian speak he was basically declaring that he cared for roy- if for nothing else than for how happy he made jason. still he shook it off and asked what roy had said that was worrying dami.

"he was patrolling last night" jason knew that. roy had been picking up his patrols since jason had a nasty leg wound. it was the reason he wasn't out tonight. "and he was on the phone with an unknown person, though i am inclined to believe it was either Starfire or Canary" okay, still not surprising "and then he said that the only place he could die happy was between your thighs" oh hello blue screen. yes jasons mind was in the middle of rebooting but could you hurry it along? he almost missed what damian said next. "not only does he wish for death upon himself, he wishes for you to give it to him!"

"damian" jason managed, frantically trying to figure out a way to explain to his baby brother without including his sex life. "uhh its just an expression"

damians face brightened up slightly. "really? he does not wish to smother himself between your thighs?"

"yeah, its like...like just a way to say... mind your business? mmhmm" he struggled to get out, pulling an explanation out of his ass.

"you have told father to mind his business a thousand times but i dont recal you ever using that one. is it new?"

oh god. jason would rather die again than continue this conversation.

"uhh its only used if you're close to someone" jason didnt know what he didnt wrong but dami's eyes widened in clear worry. "i thought you and father were reconnecting? has something happened? are you fighting again?"

well shit. jason had not thought this one through. fuck roy and fuck his mile wide kink that centered around jasons thighs. he was going to kill him. and he wouldnt even use his thighs. "oh nonono dami we're fine, just not as close as me and roy" he hedged, pleading to gods he didnt believe in to stop this conversation with whatever means necessary. strike him dead if need be but *please*. damians eyes narrowed "and exactly how close are you with harper, jason?" jason stared in disbelief. how had his nice relaxing evening turned into such a shitshow? damian was fine with roy when he and jason were just friends but now that he was (correctly) assuming a relationship, his over protective instincts were kicking in? christ. he remembered how when dick and babs finally started dating (again), damian seemingly lost all respect for her and called her an evil harlot more than once.

thankfully he was saved by answering in the form of the best person jason had ever met aka duke thomas. he announced his presence by awkwardly coughing. jason met his dark eyes and mouthed 'help me' over damians head. duke smiled as if it was getting pulled out of him by torture but nodded.

"hey dames, dick wanted you to join him by the docks when you finished up here" damian scowled "cant you see i am clearly not finished yet"

"hah, well dick was facing up against scarecrow and i think he needed some back up but you know him"

"yes, he wont admit he needs help when he very clearly does" damian sighed "very well, ill go check on dick. you stay and question jason. " and with that damian clambered out the window and after he disappeared from sight, jason threw his head back to stare at his ceiling and groaned. duke laughed at him.

"hey daisy duke?" duke grumbled at the nickname and jason cracked a smile "how did you know i needed back up?" duke winced and ran a hand over his dreads. he made a face and jasons soul was slowly draining out of his body. "oh haha funny story" duke rocked back on his feet and faked laughed "damians com was still connected to the channel" jason froze.

"who was on the channel oh my god" duke smiled thinly and his hand paused on his head. "other than me? everyone." jason buried his head in his hands and let out a high pitched whine. duke consolingly rubbed his shoulder. this is why jason loved him. he hadn't even laughed at jason like tim, dick or steph would or started plotting death like damian started to. he and cass would just offer support. jasons favorite brother and sister right here folks. duke sat down beside him

"listen. i know what it's like to be outed when youre not ready and when i heard damian grilling you about roy, i thought i would help" jason turned and stared at his brother. duke was staring at his hands and avoiding eye contact. "i got caught with a boy when i was 15 in high school. its pretty shitty to be gay and poor in a homophobic neighbourhood but its worse to be gay, poor and black." jason knocked shoulders with him. "if you tell me the name of whatever asshat outed you, I'll shoot him for you." duke let out a waterly laugh. "they kept bullying me for being gay but if they even listened, they would have realised that im pan" he joked "its a completely different thing after all". jason snorted

"that was horrible"

duke winced "yeah, it was wasnt it. im bad at this" it was jasons turn to avoid eye contact now.

"talia once caught me with a league operative. a male operative. i was so paranoid for days until i caught shiva leaving her rooms. i got the courage to tell her i was bi and she just patted my cheek and asked how my training was going."

duke huffed out a laugh. "bruce gives you shit but i for one think your lesbians moms are cool"

jason laughed with him "just wait until you meet Ducra. shes a badass"

"ducra?" he questioned with a weird look. "how many moms do you actually have? i knew about diana and your assassin moms but thats a new name" jason burst into laughter at the expression on dukes face. "its not fair man. steph is the only other one with a mom and you have four! you need to share" jason choked on his laughter and shoved duke.

"first of all, its only *three*. ducra is like my badass abuela"

"dont you already have a badass grandma? have you forgotten about Ma Gunn? she threatened to shoot bruce in the dick last week!"

"yes well excuse you i need strong female role models in my life, fuck you" the two of them continued to joke around for a little while longer before jason caught a flash of black kelvar outside his window and sighed. duke followed his eyes and smiled before patting jasons shoulder and pushing off. "have fun with the one strong male role model in your life. im going to see if cass needs help" both of them knew that cass wouldn't need help but jason accepted the excuse for what it was. "me and steph are still coming over to study tomorrow. college is kicking my ass and i need you to explain this English assignment to me"

jason scoffed "im not writing your essay for you"

"eh worth a try. bye jace" duke gave a two fingered salute and slipped out the window. jason took the brief reprieve to sip his tea and mourned when he discovered the ice had melted and watered down the peach taste. for the third time that night, someone crept into his window. oh well. third times the charm right? jason wasn't going to acknowledge bruce until he said something himself. it was a repeat of damian. jasom read his book as it got increasingly uncomfortable.

"jason."

"bruce" jason drawled, not lifting his eyes from his book. bruce grunted like the neanderthal he was and jason finally huffed out a heaving breath before marking his page and looking up. bruce looked supremely uncomfortable. actually his face looked exceedingly neutral but jason knew how to read bruce and that was the brow furrow of how do i deal with jason without fucking it up? jason was well famailairsed with that one.

"you know i love you" jasons own eyebrows rose. bruce only said 'i love you' like four times a year tops. and he usually never wasted it on jason. bruce deflated at whatever face jason must have made. goddamn it. this was why jason always fought with bruce with his helmet on, he couldnt control his facial expressions for shit. "no you dont know that." bruce smiled thinly and to jasons suprise, quickly crossed the room and knelt, placing his hands on jasons shoulders.

"even if you dont believe it, and its my own fault that you do and i hate that i ever caused you to even doubt my love for you, i swear that i do, jay lad" jason was completely frozen. he had expected bruce to yell at him for letting roy go unchecked on patrol last night and how irresponsible he was yada yada, not this declaration of feelings that he had no clue how to deal with. he couldnt remember the last time bruce called him that. it had to have been when he was still in those scaly green panties and pixie boots. and not the adult verison that jason picked up from a halloween store on a whim just to see roys eyes.

bruce sighed and drew jason into a hug. when bruces shoulder started getting wet, jason was horrified to realise he was crying. "i wanted you to know that i wouldnt love you any less for loving a man. but you have to know that i love you in the first place for that to happen" bruce said self deprecating.

"shut the fuck up" jason said sniffling and gripping his dads back. "i hate you"

bruce laughed softly at him before pressing a kiss to the side of jasons head. "i want you to know that i expect roy-and you- over at dinner on sunday. i need to meet the man that stole my babys heart" he murmured. jason laughed wetly "youve already met roy, you just want to con me into actually coming to family dinner"

bruce smiled "that was before i knew you two were dating. roy needs to know what hes getting into" jason leaned back enough to stare into bruces eyes and weakly punched him in the chest "dont threaten my boyfriend. he refused to look at me for two weeks after t was done with him" bruce sighed longingly "its times like this when i remember what caused me to love talia in the first place."

"bruce!" the aforementioned man laughed and hugged jason tightly before stepping back a few steps. "Sunday dinner. you and roy. 8 pm." on a whim jason reached out and snagged bruces hand. "hey" he started, swallowing "you wanna stay for a while? we could watch a movie or something" bruces eyes softened and he nodded. "let me change out of the suit."

and if roy had crept in after patrol only to see jason napping on his dads chest to a shitty action movie playing in the background and took several pictures, well that bruces fault for not waking up when roy stumbled it. (nevermind the fact that bruce had every single one of those pictures saved on his phone) (nevermind the fact that after roy put his phone away, he was greeted to the sight of batman glaring at him as he twisted a batarang around his fingers. it was sorta ruined by the fact that jasons curls was hiding the lower half of his face but roy was still adequately terrified)

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v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 3 years

Text

i’m so tasty and the price is right (shigadabi)

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, name-calling, both feminine & masculine terms used for ftm genitals, uhhhh i think thats it, hit me if i’m wrong tomura has an onlyfans and dabi helps him out for the viewers

tomura shigaraki, the anxiety-riddled, anger-filled, screaming child prodigy turned drop-out streamer that dabi was currently rooming with, had an onlyfans. dabi had only found this out through coincidence one night when he, for the first time, actually grabbed the mail on his way up. tomura had a bunch of perverted letters sent in from fans, all knowing him by his streamer name ‘decay’. they called him by his given name in the letters, something that shocked dabi and made it even funnier to read through.

his first instinct was to charge into tomura’s room to question him on it. and dabi wasn’t really a thinking man, so that’s what he did. he charged in with the letters in his hand, interrupting tomura’s stream as he scrambled to mute himself.

“what the fuck do you want, dabi?” his raspy voice stuck in a permanent whine. it was honestly kinda cute sometimes. it was very easy to antagonize the poor boy, so dabi did it as often as he could get away with before tomura started threatening him. and not that dabi was scared of tomura— he could easily beat his ass at this point in time, all made up of scrawny limbs and long-term malnourishment. the only times he ate a real actual meal were when dabi reminded him and/or provided him with food. it put another pang of worry in dabi’s chest that he chose, again, to ignore.

tomura’s eyes scanned dabi, falling onto the papers in his hands with a confused expression.

“what?” tomura repeated, “what’s that shit?”

dabi’s grin was maniacal.

“nothing, nothing,” dabi moved them behind his back, “only your creepy fan letters. from your fans.” there was a beat of silence before tomura’s face heated up and he stomped over, trying his hardest to grab at the letters dabi held.

“dude, why didn’t you tell me you were a pornstar? that’s like—” his laughing was cut off with a cough as he held the papers above their heads, shaking them to taunt tomura even more. tomura eventually jumped and snatched them out of dabi’s hands, shoving them in his trash can and going to sit back in his chair. he paused his stream as dabi caught his breath.

tomura took a deep (slightly crackly) breath, and started a practiced monologue, “i’m not a pornstar, i just hold… extra liveshows later on for more cash because streaming doesn’t exactly pay the best and for certain legal reasons i can’t really get a good job. so i basically just…” he sighed and winced a bit, “i record myself jacking off?” his sentence ended in more of an uncertain question than a statement, almost as if he was scared. “i don’t do it when you’re home, or at least i try not to, and i don’t bug you with it, so i don’t see why it would matter—”

his rambling was cut off as tomura looked up to see dabi suddenly being a lot closer than he remembered.

“that’s fuckin’ hot, no apologies needed.” dabi’s voice was lower than usual, setting tomura’s face even further on fire, lighting up red as he covered his face.

“what the hell, freakshow, you can’t just say shit like that—” tomura said, muffled through his hands.

“but i can, and i will. you know i’m a pretty honest man, creep.” dabi chuckled. “now are you gonna let me fuck you up on your little stream or what?” he leaned down to be level with tomura who was still sat in his chair.

there was only silence from tomura’s end.

“c’mon, won’t another dude be good for business? i promise i’ll take good care of you.” dabi got even closer with these words, trapping tomura in with his hands on the elbow rests, mouthing filthy promises in his ear.

“okay. we can take turns blowin’ each other.” tomura grumbled, pushing at dabi’s shoulders to move him from his position over him. “but i gotta finish off this stream first, i’ll come get you when it’s time. get cleaned up and shit, i won’t suck you off if you’re gross.” tomura didn’t look him in the eyes, putting his headphones back on and officially ending the conversation as he got back to whatever murder game he was playing with an apology for being gone.

dabi stalked off to the bathroom, burying his intense excitement and arousal deep in his gut and turning on the shower. he got pretty much everything, cleaner than he had been in weeks as a gross dude with an illegal gig barely classified as a job. he always did wonder how tomura was able to pay so much of the bills, but he didn’t want to bring it up and sound bitchy. he was half hard just from the thought, tomura always being the grumpy catch he was always afraid to go for, for fear that he would get kicked out of the apartment the morning after or something along those lines.

the stunt he had just pulled was exhilarating. he thought about the flush he had seen on tomura’s face as he stepped out of the shower. he was still at half mast as he brushed his teeth and put on deodorant (stealing tomuras’), towel wrapped around his waist. dabi had always thought himself to be a kind of a catch, positively covered in tattoos and piercings and even some cosmetic staples. his brother said he was addicted to body mods, bu he chose to ignore those words in favor of finding something else to do to or with his body.

he wondered what he should wear. he didn’t want to struggle with it too much, just going for what he had on before the shower. he shook his hair out like a dog, water slightly darkened from the hair dye (he had just redyed it a couple days ago and he never truly had the care to wash it all the way out).

and when he was done with all that, he went into his room and collapsed on his bed facedown. there he stayed for a few moments as he tried to calm himself down, before just turned to his bong on the side table for some manual chill. he lit up a few times, only enough to make his head swim the tiniest bit, and went to play a few shitty games on his phone.

apparently he had been playing a little longer than he thought, already gone through a cigarette and another couple rips before tomura knocked on his door.

“ready to start up the live stream, get your ass in here if you still want in on it.” he heard through the door, followed by tomura’s footsteps leading off into his bedroom.

dabi, of course, immediately followed, hopping up and throwing his door open, excitedly shimmying his way up to tomura’s doorway.

man

he was. he was wearing black thigh-highs, held up by a garter that he could barely see the beginnings of over a sweatshirt that was giant on his small, skinny frame. dabi’s sweatshirt.

“did—” dabi was damn near short of breath at the sigh ton display in front of him, “did you get that from my room?”

“no, i got it from the living room. now let me get the camera on and the stream rolling before you fuck me up.” tomura chuckled softly, something that he didn’t do often. dab’s heart skipped a beat, and he pointedly chose to ignore it.

“you look fuckin’ hot, baby.” he murmured, eyes glued to the sligh bit of thigh on display over the top of the sock and before the sweatshirt.

“baby? what happened to creep?” tomura pressed record, laptop set up next to the camera so that they could see themselves and the chat, not giving dabi a chance to respond. tomura waited a few moments, before addressing the current pileup.

“hey everyone. i have a guest tonight, my roommate and the dude who eats all my damn cereal—” tomura paused and turned back to look at dabi who was still out of camera, “do you want your identity to be anonymous? ‘n’ do you wanna show your face?”

dabi had a moment of pause, before shrugging. “nah, i don’t really have any shame, you’re not really anything to hide.” dabi once again shamelessly looked tomura up and down, earning an eyeroll and the beginnings of… was that a smile?

tomura turned back to the camera. “this is dabi, my roommate, and the dude who’s gonna eat me out on stream.” tomura said with no pause, and no stutter or hesitation. this was a performance, surely. it was so different from the blushing and hiding man who was avoiding his eyes a couple hours ago. tomura cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, mimicking a stage whisper. “this’ll be the first time with him, so you get our genuine reactions for free.” tomura chucked gently, watching the chat blow up at the premise of some genuine roommate porn.

tomura turned back to dabi, moving to pull him into frame and pushing him to sit on tomura’s bed.

“well, here goes nothing,” tomura murmured to himself, climbing into dabi’s lap and pulling him into a kiss. he immediately heard the dinging of tip notifications off to his side, and he knew his chat was probably going wild. dabi’s hands wandered, up tomura’s thighs that were positioned over his hips, and over the other mans own hips, back down to his thigh-highs. he pulled at them, snapping it against tomura’s thigh, earning a gasp that allotted enough room for dabi to stick his tongue in the others mouth. tomura’s own arms were slung over dabi’s shoulders coming up to run his hands through dabi’s undercut. tomura ground down against dabi’s half-hard cock, trying to work him up further.

eventually their kiss broke for air and dabi stared into the camera with a knowing grin as he ground his hips upwards. tomura gasped loudly, sensitivity intensified by the hormones he had been taking for a while now. dabi moved to kiss down the white-haired boy’s throat, leaving little nips that had tomura giving breathy whines. he could tell some were played up for the camera, but he didn’t mind at all. he was rock hard in his jeans now, and he could feel the slickness that tomura had built up— soaking through his panties. which, by the way— now that dabi could see them, he was obsessed. they were bright blue and lacey, gorgeous against the pale flush of tomura’s scarred thighs. they hugged his hips nicely and made dabi want to rip them apart.

tomura gently pushed him away from his neck, rolling his hips against dabi as he leaned back slightly to look at the camera. “chat, who should go first? who do you wanna see cum first?” his words were syrupy and seductive as their hips worked in tandem. someone donated with a fairly large amount, spouting something about wanting to see the pretty boy choke on cock.

and who were they to deny the nice donator?

tomura turned back to dabi, running a hand down the man’s chest, grabbing at the end of his shirt. dabi got the hint and removed his shirt, hearing the chat pop off for a moment. “your lucky day, freakshow. fuck me up.” tomura whispered and he hopped off dabi’s lap, spreading dabi’s legs manually and making himself comfortable between them.

“feel free to grab the camera to get that angle, yknow?” tomura looked up at him as he laid his cheek on dabi’s thigh, uncomfortable close to the bulge in dabi’s pants.

dabi leaned back on his hands, letting tomura unbutton his pants and shimmy his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. tomura had a moment of shock at the sight of it, long and thick with about 5 pieces of fuckin’ metal stuck into it.

when his shock wore off, he decided a quip would be appropriate. “y’know i always did wonder if it continued on down—” tomura gestured to all of his various facial and body piercings, finally licking a stripe up his length and taking dabi by surprise, making him gasp. tomura was surprisingly good at this, dabi had thought him a lame little virgin before he found out about the whole onlyfans thing. but no, tomura had apparently had quite a bit of practice, shown off by the rapid rate at which he was able to adjust to the intrusion of dabi’s cock, sinking down and feeling the metal rods on the underside grind one by one against his tongue. it was heaven, and dabi reached one hand into tomura’s hair for support.

this led tomura to pull off, only to say the words, “pull on it,” before sinking his hot mouth back down onto dabi’s dick. and so dabi did what he was told, taking the hair in his hands and pulling, earning a genuine moan from tomura that reverberated its way down his cock. the hottest thing was that tomura was making him feel this good with only his mouth. his hands were currently on dabi’s thighs, moving up to his hips as if to insinuate something. dabi pulled him back by his hair. tomura whined, which was the hottest thing ever and looked up at dabi with a wanting— no, expecting stare.

“use your words, babydoll.” he muttered to tomura, watching his face heat up, much more like his bashful self before the camera turned on. the audience was eating it up, so used to his unphased confidence and sheer no-fucks-given attitude, that seeing this form of subby shigaraki was like dessert for them.

“use me, dabi,” tomura muttered, eyes focused on the ground as he shuffled on his knees.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you, speak up.” dabi teased and used his hand that was in tomura’s hair to slip down and hook his finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at dabi.

tomura’s eyes glazed over for a second at the stern look that dabi was giving him, before blinking harshly and shaking his head a bit, as if to clear his mind.

“fuck my throat, dabi. use me.” his voice was clear and without any shyness now, an almost grin spreading across his cheeks. though his inner submission didn’t go unseen, as the look in his eye and the redness of his face and the way he arched his back even now, was more honest than any words he could say.

“if you say so, baby. tap me if you want off.” dabi moved his hand back to tomura’s hair, gripping it tight and using it to line himself up with tomura’s lips.

“open up. you’re gonna be so good at this, i can just tell.” dabi growled out. tomura followed directions, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out to show up, dabi sliding his cock to the back of the other man’s throat. he stopped for a moment to let tomura adjust, but tomura took that to his advantage, meeting dabi’s eyes and sucking hard.

“jesus fuck, baby—” dabi panted, starting up a smooth rhythm with his hips, both hands now in tomura’s hair to practically use him like a toy. a human fleshlight.

“god, tomura, you whore— how’dya get so good at this? d’ya— d’ya practice?” dabi’s hips sped up as tomura moaned deep in his throat, vibrating against his cock. the words were turning tomura’s poor brain into jello. the chat was going wild, donations at an all time high as they watched their favorite creator get used like a toy.

dabi felt the tension building up in his gut. a few more moments of this and he would be done for. he reached down with one of the hands to wrap around tomura’s throat, so that he couldn’t even semi-breathe through his nose. he felt tomura gag, throat clamping down on his cock. tomura had yet to tap him, so he continued with his wild ministrations, letting go of tomura and pulling his dick out until just the tip rested on tomura’s tongue as he worked himself off the final edge and came, coating tomura’s lips and tongue.

“don’t swallow yet.” dabi’s tone was winded yet still authoritative. “show your audience baby, you did amazing. show them how good of a slut you are.” dabi grabbed tomura’s chin and manually turned the boy’s head to the camera, watching with hungry eyes as he showed off the spend on his tongue.

“okay, now swallow.” dabi ordered, watching as tomura did it easily. dabi knew at that instant that he had sent tomura into a momentary headspace of sorts. he wanted to treat the boy after using him so roughly, so he helped him up and out of the sweatshirt, splayed out on the bed, hair spread out around his head like a halo. he looked like a proper angel as the blurriness finally worked its way out of those eyes and the real tomura came back on line.

“jesus christ, dabi.” tomura grumbled. his pale face was on fire. dabi thought that was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

dabi was lowering himself onto his knees, pulling tomura’s hips to hang off the bed, spreading them so that he could lay lovebites along his inner thighs. it was almost agonizing with how long he carried it out, working numerous dark purple hickeys onto his thighs, as if to claim, and to show off. he knew that if tomura did a show in the next few days, they would be visible, and that made him hot under the collar.

“god, freakshow, get on with it!” tomura whined, trying to arch up onto something, but failing as a result of dabi’s iron grip on his thighs.

“ah, ah ah— what do we say when we want something, babydoll?” dabi’s low voice made goosebumps rise up on tomura’s skin, and the poor boy nearly gave in and started begging right there. dabi stopped pressing kisses to tomura’s thighs, sitting back holding tomura’s legs apart, waiting on his reply.

“i need an answer, creep.” the familiar nickname from the man between his legs made it more… intimate. tomura swallowed his pride.

“please— please dabi, please suck me off, i need it—” he was rewarded with dabi ripping his panties off, exposing his nether regions to the open air. tomura whined at the cold, feeling it against his wet cunt. but soon the feeling of cold air was replaced with a soft, excellent warm suction on his dick, one of dabi’s hands reaching up to run two fingers along his slit.

it made tomura nearly scream, instead moving one of his hands to cover his mouth. dabi instantly let up on the attention, reaching up to move tomura’s hand. “you gotta put on a show tomura, remember that.” dabi chuckled before he went back to work, moving his lips down to run his tongue against tomura’s hole. tomura was arching his back and more or less grinding against dabi’s face as he moaned loudly. dabi knew his way around eating out, so it wouldn’t be long for the other man, who had already been so wound up for so long. dabi went back to sucking on his clit and he moved his two fingers to enter, making an awful noise when they did. tomura’s wetness rolled down dabi’s wrist and before long, tomura’s legs were shaking as dabi brought him to the edge.

now, dabi was a little shit by nature. so he doubled, even tripled his efforts in speed and pressure, rocketing tomura over the edge and working his fingers in and out at such a speed that had tomura writhing against the sheets in oversensitivity.

and dabi kept going. he was on a mission, and soon enough, his efforts were rewarded when tomura soaked the sheets and dabi’s arm and lower face. dabi worked him through it, milking him of every drop, before he finally let up. tomura lay there practically braindead for a bit, dabi even going so far as to wave at the camera as he stroked tomura’s thighs, waiting for him to be coherent enough for dabi to leave for a second to get a towel.

once he had come back to the land of the living, tomura ended the stream with a quick thank you to the donators and visitors, while dabi was up getting a towel, and tomura had caught his breath by the time dabi was back with towels and water. dabi wiped his face, arms and upper torso off, and tomura wiped his junk down, throwing the towel somewhere on the floor.

“my junk hurts, you asshole. god— why are you so good at that?” were the first words out fo tomura’s mouth, eliciting a loud laugh from dabi as he opened the window and pulled out a cigarette.

“get me one too, freakshow. i need it after that. my dono’s are through the fuckin’ roof though, so thanks for our rent.” he spoke quietly against the sounds of the city as dabi lit his cigarette and tossed one and his lighter to tomura.

dabi only gave him a devilish smirk.

“you gonna let me do that again?”

#shigadabi #dabi x shigaraki

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