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darks-ink · 3 years

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Reversal

Sometimes Valerie wished she could show Phantom what it was like to be her. She doubted that he would care--the ghost only thought about himself--but the roleswap would at least annoy him, surely.

Prompt: Valerie, as the Red Huntress, is chasing Phantom and they end up both accidentally flying through the Fenton Ghost Catcher together. This causes Danny to end up with the hunter suit and Valerie to end up with ghost powers. (Optional: When Val goes ghost she still looks exactly like Phantom.) Prompt by: @echoghost1 (who I can’t seem to tag?) Word count: 3,846

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

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“Phantom!” she snarled, tugging on the mental connection between her and her hoverboard, trying to push just a little more speed out of it.

Ahead of her, Phantom’s tail inched further and further from her grasp. No matter how hard she pushed, he managed to be just a tad faster than her.

Infuriating is what it was. Sometimes she wished she could show him what it was like.

Not that he would care, of course. Despite his little hero act, Valerie knew that Phantom didn’t care about anyone but himself. The only thing a roleswap would do was annoy him. And that was if she followed the common assumption that ghosts could feel emotion at all, which she honestly kind of doubted.

The ghost dove, suddenly, and Valerie growled to herself. Trusting her suit to keep her locked onto the hoverboard, she leaned back, angling herself into a rolling movement to follow Phantom down the alley he’d disappeared into. This was her chance. In a straight flight she couldn’t catch Phantom, but in tight maneuvers she stood a chance.

Well, until he remembered he could go intangible, anyway.

Their chase continued through several more alleys, Phantom managing to keep frustratingly far ahead of her—they were too close in speed and maneuverability—until he seemingly disappeared. Or, that had clearly been his plan. At the far end of the alley Valerie entered, she could see him pressed flat against the wall, practically radiating ectoplasmic contamination.

Ha, and he thought his invisibility would save him here. Well, Valerie would let him believe that, if just for a moment longer. She kept flying towards him, not drawing back her speed; Phantom would assume that she was still chasing him down.

And, in a way, she was.

She kept herself turned forward, kept up the pretense that she couldn’t see him, until she was within a bodylength of him. And then…

Valerie lunged.

Her board retracted into the soles of her shoes, its engines giving her just that little boost she needed, and she collided with Phantom at full speed. Her arms, covered in the hard plating of her upgraded suit, wrapped around him, fingers digging into his soft ectoplasmic flesh.

Too often he’d gotten away from her, but now, now she knew how to catch him. No injury ever stopped him, but her armor? Her armor was phase-proof. As long as she held onto him, he couldn’t get away from her.

With one arm wrapped around Phantom’s neck, the other digging for purchase on his upper arm, Valerie went ahead and wrapped her legs around his waist too, making sure he couldn’t buck her off. For a moment, she was glad for the fact that it was the middle of the night, if only so no one could see the Red Huntress clinging onto Phantom’s back like a monkey.

And then they were falling.

“Val!” Phantom hissed, white-gloved fingers scrabbling over the arm around his throat even as he turned intangible. “Let go!”

“Fat chance, spook!” she snarled back, tightening her hold on him even further as they careened towards the ground. “I’ve finally got you!”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice strained, as they closed the last of the distance to the ground— and then kept going.

Shit. Intangibility carried over.

“What was—” was all Phantom managed before they broke through the soil again, and Valerie caught a short glimpse of an underground room clad in shiny metal, before they hit their next obstacle.

Which, in hindsight, was probably the first clue that something was massively wrong. They hit an obstacle. While intangible.

This time, they hit the ground hard, Phantom wheezing out a grunt when she landed on top of him. She deliberated her hold on him for a moment, then rolled off, keeping just one hand wrapped around his upper arm.

Instead, she took a longer moment to look around the room Phantom had dragged them into. And, more importantly, the object they had flown through before they had hit the ground.

Her first impression of the room proved true, as it was, indeed, clad in shiny metal plates. As was the ceiling, and the solid floor they had hit. Most of the floorspace seemed to be taken up by equally metal tables, and it took only a moment for her to place them. Lab tables. They were in an underground lab.

Jerking her eyes back to the object they had phased through, Valerie grimaced. Yep, that looked like Fentonworks tech alright. A huge metal standard, topped off with a ring large enough for her and Phantom to fit through—as they obviously had—which was webbed with ecto-green netting. It must’ve shut down Phantom’s powers when he flew through it.

Great. Just great. Now she was down in the Fentons’ lab, forced to either attempt to stealthily break out without anyone noticing her, or let them claim Phantom—because they absolutely wouldn’t let her leave with him, and like hell she was giving up her catch to them.

Dammit, her best option was probably to get Phantom to phase them out of the lab again. He probably wanted to be here even less than her. Maybe the shorting out of his powers was just a brief thing.

Mind made up, she turned to confront him. And found herself staring straight into her own helmet.

“Uh,” she managed, blinking at the shiny visor she was faced with.

“Yeah,” Phantom agreed, his voice oddly distorted by the helmet. And… lacking the usual echo?

Valerie tore her eyes away from the helmet, instead moving them over his chest, down to where she was still holding his upper arm. She hadn’t noticed at first—black was black—but he seemed to be wearing her suit, now, instead of his usual jumpsuit.

“What the hell,” she managed, and then caught sight of the white gloved hand wrapped around Phantom’s upper arm. “What the hell.”

“Yeah,” Phantom agreed, the helmet tilting like he was cocking his head at her. “I, uh. Didn’t think this was something the Ghost Catcher could do.”

“The what?” she asked, despite herself, then immediately shook her head. “No, never mind, I don’t want to know. What the hell happened, Phantom?”

“You’re asking me?” He sounded incredulous, pressing his free hand against his chest. “I’m hurt, Val.”

He paused, looking around them in a way that almost seemed meaningful, before turning the visor back to her. “And we should probably leave first, before we talk any of this through.”

“What, afraid of getting caught by the Fentons?” she scoffed, even if that had been her plan as well.

The helmet facing her turned down, slowly but meaningfully casting over her body before stopping back on her face. “Sure,” Phantom allowed, finally, drawing the word out. “And so should you.”

Before she could say anything to that, he pushed himself up, forcing her to get up as well. “Come on, before they realize we’re here.”

Instead of answering that—how would they know?—she hummed, willing to follow his lead for the moment. She wasn’t sure how accurate the rumors were that Phantom regularly broke into the Fentonworks lab, but he did carry their equipment, and it wasn’t like she knew any better.

They made their way to the staircase, dodging around the half-finished (or half-broken?) equipment scattered around the lab. There, at the bottom of the stairs, Phantom paused again, turning to look at the hand clamped around his upper arm.

It was so weird to see him dressed in her armored suit. Because it clearly was him, wearing it, the suit shaped to fit him much like his jumpsuit usually would.

She really, really hoped that he was wearing clothes underneath it.

Scratch that. She really hoped she was still wearing underwear underneath the jumpsuit she’d received in trade for her armor.

“Are you going to let go of me?” Phantom asked her, in a low hiss.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “And let you run away with my suit? No way.”

He answered with an odd rolling motion of his helmet, and she got the distinct feeling he’d just rolled his eyes at her. “Fine,” he grunted, twisting his arm and sticking out his hand at her. “Let’s at least hold hands? That’s slightly more convenient while moving around.”

Valerie narrowed her eyes at him, but, well. He kind of had a point there. Begrudgingly she slid her hand down his arm, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered at the sight of Phantom’s white gloves trailing down her black-and-red armor. He caught her hand when it reached his, twining his fingers with hers. Now neither of them could get away.

Was this some kind of weird power play? Phantom was just odd enough to try it, she thought, then immediately shoved the thought away as not useful.

Phantom kept his helmeted head turned towards her for a moment longer before turning back to the stairs, finally climbing them. Valerie turned her own gaze towards their tangled fingers, then shook her head and followed him up. Something here was wrong, but it could wait until they were away from this place.

The staircase ended in a door, which Phantom opened without hesitation, and which led into… a kitchen?

What the hell, Fentons? Did they really have an unlocked door to their ghost lab in their kitchen?

Phantom’s helmeted head turned to the right, and Valerie followed his gaze to a door. The windows next to it had their blinds shut, but it probably led out to the backyard. She stepped towards it, but made it no more than two steps before realizing that Phantom hadn’t moved.

He shook his head, then hissed, low, “It’ll be locked, this time of night.”

Ugh, yeah, probably. She paused to take him in instead, for a brief moment, and realized something she hadn’t before: Phantom stood as if he was grounded.

Sure, there had been moments before when Phantom had landed, had walked with his boots on the ground, but he always moved like gravity didn’t quite affect him. Like he was just one moment away from floating off.

Not now. This whole time, he’d been moving like gravity pressed down on him, like it would on anyone else.

So that was a no on ghost powers, then. She moved closer to him, dropping her voice in a whisper as well, “And how do you plan on getting out, then? Breaking a window?”

He paused, like he was mulling over his words. “Well…” he finally whispered back, “Danny never locks his window?”

“Danny should also be in his bed,” she snarled back, as quiet as she could, “asleep.”

“So you’d prefer to break a window and set off the defense systems?” Phantom cocked his head at her, something distinctly challenging about the motion, “Because it’ll be your grave, not mine.”

“That’s because you’re already dead, spook.” Damn that ghost. How would he even know whether Danny Fenton locked his window or not? “Besides, how do you plan on getting to Danny’s room without running into anyone else?”

Phantom visibly stilled at that, like he hadn’t considered that.

“Not so easy without ghost powers, huh?”

“I…” He sighed, his shoulders visibly heaving. “No.”

Unfortunately, that left them with few options. They could try a window, but that would absolutely cause a stir, and with Phantom wearing her armor, that left her identity completely unprotected. Not to mention whatever security system the Fentons might have, which very well could target her just for wearing Phantom’s jumpsuit. The thing was probably seeping with ectoplasmic contamination.

Ugh. She shoved the thought away as something she didn’t want to think about, now or ever.

So that left two options. They could try searching the house for some keys, risk getting caught as burglars, and hope that the security system didn’t require separate deactivation.

Or they could try Danny’s room, upstairs, and hope they could somehow sneak past him—and everyone else asleep in the house—to escape through that window. Curse her for even considering it, but…

“So what are the chances we could get to Danny’s room unnoticed?”

Phantom hummed, quietly, then tilted his head like he was listening. “I don’t hear footsteps, so the Fentons are probably asleep. Either we didn’t set off their alarm, or they forgot to activate it.”

“That seems… oddly lucky.” She strained her hearing, but couldn’t hear anything either. Not that you needed to strain to hear Jack Fenton’s footsteps, but Maddie would probably be far quieter—and far more problematic. “How do you plan on getting past Danny?”

“He’s probably not even here,” Phantom said, something… odd about his voice. Something Valerie couldn’t place. “He sneaks out a lot. Why do you think I know about his window?”

“I honestly didn’t want to think about it,” she admitted dryly, before shaking her head. “Fuck, fine, we’ll go for Danny’s room. If he’s there…” She paused, weighing that. “I know him. We’re… We’ve dated. He’s a good kid. I think we can play it off.”

Phantom’s gaze on her was heavy, but after a long moment he nodded. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” she bit back, but it lacked venom. “I assume you know the way, for some godforsaken reason?”

He snorted but nodded, leading her towards the doorway to the left, pulling on the hand he still held. “You don’t have to assume the worst of everyone, Val.”

“I don’t assume the worst of everyone,” she snapped back, quietly. “Only of ghosts.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes it much better,” he agreed airily, before freezing suddenly. Valerie froze as well, straining her ears… still nothing.

It seemed that Phantom agreed, because not a moment later, he started moving again. They were heading towards another set of stairs, these ones—not very surprisingly—much cozier than the ones down in the lab.

For now, she was content to follow Phantom’s path, watching him carefully sneak through the Fenton’s living room and then up the stairs. It was… odd. She never saw Phantom really walk, like a human, yet he seemed to have no trouble adjusting to it now. Hell, he even stepped carefully, moving around parts of the stairs that threatened to be creaky.

How would a ghost like him know what bits of the stairs tended to be the loudest? What point could that knowledge possibly have, for a ghost that could just float over them entirely?

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Phantom pressed a finger to the front of his helmet—like Valerie needed the clue to be quiet—and then pointed towards one of the doors in the hallway. Danny’s room, presumably.

At her sharp nod, Phantom sneaked closer, Valerie right on his heel. They paused in front of the door but, failing to hear any signs of Danny being awake behind it, quickly opened it.

Phantom pulled her inside before she could hesitate, closing the door behind her while she took in the room.

Empty.

Well, not empty. There was plenty of stuff in the room itself, most of it space-related. Not entirely surprising, considering what she knew of Danny, but still.

No, it was empty of life. Danny Fenton wasn’t there at all.

“See, no problem,” Phantom hissed at her, tugging her over to the window. “He’s not even here.”

Valerie stopped, forcing Phantom to stop as well, just before he could reach the window. “Are you for fucking real, Phantom?”

“What?” the ghost snapped back, helmet jerking in her direction. He immediately dropped back into a quieter voice. “What did I do now?”

“Danny Fenton is not in his room, and none of the lights in any of the other rooms were on, so he’s not in the bathroom either.”

“Yeah?” Phantom tilted his helmet. “So?”

“So?” she hissed back, angrily. “So? Where the fuck is he?”

Phantom shrugged, but the motion looked awkward. “How am I supposed to know? He must’ve snuck out, like he usually does!”

“With his window still closed?” she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “There’s something suspicious going on here, Phantom, and I want to know what.”

“You’re really gonna do this here?” He gestured wildly with his free hand at the room they were in. “Really, Val?”

She grimaced, then shook her head. “Fine. I’m adding it to the list of things we’re discussing the moment we’re out of this, got it?”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He sighed, then turned to the window, and she let him guide them to it. “We can get out via this window and then fly to some nearby rooftop to talk, if that’s alright with you?”

“How do you plan on flying out? I figured your ghost powers were out of the question.”

He hummed, grabbing onto the window’s handle with his free hand and cautiously opening it, probably wary of it creaking. “Your suit has a hoverboard, doesn’t it?”

“You think you can use that?” She scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, worst come to worst you can probably steer it while I try not to overbalance it.” He shrugged, leaning out of the now-open window. “Looks like the coast is clear.”

Valerie closed the remaining distance to the window, peering outside it while Phantom sat down on its edge, swinging his legs outside. He seemed… oddly cautious not to crush her hand against the windowsill.

“So, uh…” Phantom swung his armored feet meaningfully. “How, exactly, do you summon the hoverboard?”

“You just— Urgh. I don’t know, I just do it.” She gestured vaguely, biting down the frustration. “I just tell it what to do via my mind, I guess.”

Phantom stared straight into her eyes then nodded, suddenly, jerkily. “Alright, I think I can do that.”

She made to snap a reply at him, but was cut short by the sound of metal shifting, her hoverboard bursting free from the boots on Phantom’s feet. He held it vertical, parallel to the wall, and shifted to the side slightly.

Valerie took the motion for what it was and sat down next to him, letting her own legs dangle outside the window as well—and ignoring the black jumpsuit and white boots she saw from her peripherals. She really was not gonna think about any of this shit until they were away from here.

“So now we just gotta…” Phantom fell quiet, trying to maneuver the hoverboard underneath the window. It took him a few moments before he had pulled it off, parallel to the ground without hitting the wall. “Uh.”

Ignoring any protests he might put up, she hooked her shoulder behind Phantom’s and shoved him out of the window. The hoverboard caught him—as she had expected it to—and he barely dropped at all. She was even willing to ignore the yelp and the way he’d crushed her hand in the split-second he’d spent falling.

“You good?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Phantom grunted, and she jumped out of the window as well, landing neatly on the hoverboard, distinctly missing the clicking sound of her boots connecting to the board.

“Now, I assume— Woah!” Phantom flinched as the hoverboard jerked underneath them, and Valerie found her free hand clutching onto Phantom’s upper arm quite against her will. “Okay, no, I think I got it. Val?”

“Just go,” she hissed, shifting her feet slightly as she stood behind him.

“Going,” he said, voice tight. And, true to his word, the hoverboard lifted, starting to glide forward surprisingly smoothly.

Within moments they were above the roofs of Amity Park, and Phantom relaxed slightly, tension leaking from him. “Okay, I think I got it. It’s not so different from ghost flight after all.”

She snorted despite herself. “Well, good for you. Put us down somewhere so we can talk this shit through already.”

“Bossy,” Phantom snarked back, but the hoverboard started dropping before he’d finished the word.

They came to a stop just above an otherwise-unreachable rooftop, the hoverboard almost grazing its surface. “Here’s your stop, my lady,” Phantom said, waving their still-linked hand.

Valerie rolled her eyes, releasing her grip on his upper arm and stepping off of the hoverboard. A moment later the thing retreated back into the soles of Phantom’s boots and he, too, touched down on the ground.

“So, uh… About what happened,” Phantom started, shifting his hand and then flinching when he realized it was the one he had linked with Valerie’s. “So the Fentons have this thing they call the Fenton Ghost Catcher…”

“The dreamcatcher-looking thing, right.” She nodded at him to continue.

“Now, I think they designed it to decontaminate stuff?” He shrugged, awkwardly, and then moved his free hand to rub his neck. “Like, it’s supposed to purge ghostly contamination from stuff. I’ve used it before to pull overshadowing ghosts from their hosts without harming either.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “So what the hell was supposed to happen if just a ghost went through it?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you. But…” Phantom paused for a moment, like he was weighing his words, then marched on. “That’s not what happened. We went through it together, and it must’ve tried to purge the contamination from both of us at once, and somehow stuff got mixed up in the process.”

“You’re saying my suit was ecto-contamination?” she snarled, ignoring the implication that Phantom had contamination to purge—that he wasn’t just 100% pure ghost.

“You did get it from Technus, didn’t you?” he pointed out, almost casually. The hand in his neck stilled, fingers hooking into the edge of the helmet. “And, uh. Well…”

And, in one swift motion, Phantom took the helmet off.

“Hi, Valerie,” Danny Fenton said, his hair undeniably black and his eyes dull blue in the little light they had on their rooftop.

Valerie felt something in her stop, stutter and skip a beat. Her first thought was that it was her heart, but the feeling was wrong, it was—

She didn’t know what it was.

Light flashed, blinding her, and she automatically let go of Phantom’s—Danny’s—hand to rub in her eyes.

She could hear Danny groan in front of her, could almost imagine the echo that separated his voice from Phantom’s. “Why is that so much worse when it’s not me!”

Hands still pressed against her eyes, she bit at him, “What the hell, Danny!”

“What?” he snapped back. “What are you blaming me for now?”

Dropping her hands, she glared at him. “What the fuck was that flash of light?!”

He grinned at her, somehow looking both pleased and awkward. “Uh. My equivalent to taking off the suit?”

She blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then dropped her gaze to her hands. No longer dressed in Phantom’s suit.

Only now did she realize that her hands had been shaped wrong under the gloves.

Valerie jerked her eyes back to Danny, who once more raised a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Uh,” he muttered. “Surprise?”

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phic phight 21 #danny phantom #danny fenton #valerie gray #dp fanfic #phanfic #dark writes #just gonna put my links on this post and assume it'll work out #because i really don't want to fight with this website over whatever it's trying now

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honestlyhappyharry · 3 years

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Chapter 12

Settling in

Chapter 11

Watching everything in your house get moved was an odd feeling. It had been the only constant in your life since Lily was born, it was so much more than a house to you.

But with all the stuff slowly dripping out, packed up in boxes, being put on a truck and taken across the city, you couldn't help but think about when you first moved in.

Back then the house seemed like such a weird place to be living; you knew hardly any of your neighbours, you still had to google maps the address on your way home and when you looked out the window you saw the beach.

Now you knew almost everyone on your street, you could find any house from anywhere and the view out the window was just the same.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked as he walked up behind you in the kitchen, making you jump in fear.

You nodded. "Yeah, can I just walk around and say goodbye first?" You asked, moving to the lounge.

"Sure, baby. I'll go get Lils." He said before walking out to find Lily, who had gone three houses down to say goodbye to her friend. Although she would be seeing her at pre-k when Harry drove her over for the next week and a half and you slept in.

Tears welled in your eyes as you walked around. The only time you use to ever think you'd be moving out is when you were going to a retirement home or moving back to your hometown.

You stood in Lily's room for the longest amount of times. All the memories of her growing up hit you at once. Like a movie flashing before your eyes. All of those nights you'd spent desperately trying to get her to sleep and all of the days she slowly grew into the most beautiful, caring and amazing child you'd ever met.

"Come here," Harry said as he walked in saw the amble evidence of tears rolling down your cheeks. He wrapped his arms around you and it's a correlation to how secure the house made you feel.

"I'm sorry... I just... there's just.... this house just means so much to me." You told him honestly, it took a while to find the right words and you really didn't want to be crying on such a happy day.

He shushed you. "It's okay, love." He breathed out as he held you before he pulled you away from his chest and wiping the tears from your eyes. "Now let's go and start a new chapter of our lives." He told you and you nodded before walking out the front door with him.

As soon as you got to the new house everything felt right. You did think there would be some small doubts but there were absolutely none. It already felt like home.

The house itself was big. With a bottom floor containing 3 bedrooms, 2 lounges, a kitchen, a study, 4 bathrooms as well as a big outdoor space with a pool.

The pool was one of the best features. It had 3 separate slides, each of which connected to 3 of the bedrooms on the second floor. On the ground level, there was a separate pool bathroom but the pool itself had a built-in grill and bar area where you could swim up to get drinks. That was along with the huge movie screen.

There were 4 bedrooms on the 2nd floor each with its own ensuite as well as a lounge. The 3rd floor was significantly smaller, with only a movie room and library which had a secret staircase to a mezzanine floor with a glass ceiling. It gave you the best view of the stars and city.

"Can I look at my room?!" Lily asked quickly and Harry nodded before walking up the stairs after the jogging little girl. You followed the pair. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed before you walked in to see a whole new bedroom. It had a massive princess carriage with a bed inside as well as a castle that had stairs going up. At the top of the castle, there was a small bookshelf and a slide that went down to the desk at the bottom.

Lily ran around the room like someone had given her 3 cups of coffee. And some cocaine. You noticed the majority of her clothes in the wardrobe, her teddy bears and barbie dolls already there.

"Hope you don't mind," Harry said as he came up behind you.

"Tell me next time, Haz. She loves it but I wish I knew." You told him and he nodded before pulling you into his side. "What's going to happen when she grows out of this?"

"There's another room on this floor with a walk-in wardrobe." He told you and your eyes widened a little surprised by his thoughtful nature. "Ready to see our room?" He asked as he pulled you out to Lily's room.

"Lils, we're going to see our room. Don't go on the slide." You told her and she nodded before running up to the two of you and hugging your legs before rushing out a quick 'thank you' and going back to playing with her toys.

Harry just smiled. "Don't worry about the slide, they are all safely locked with a PIN number." You were swooning about how thoughtful he was for someone who had only had a kid for 7 months but it was a good look on him

"I love you, Har." You said as you continued to follow him to your room.

"I love you even more. Now close your eyes." He instructed and you complied, putting your hands over them before he opened the door and led you inside. "Open." He told you.

As soon as you remove your hands from your face you saw how sophisticated it looked. There was a massive be and ottoman with a couch and table in the corner. "Look at this," Harry said as he pushed a button and a tv came up from the foot of the bed.

You'd barely glanced down that end but now you saw the massive window with a view of the whole city and a door that had a few steps down onto a balcony that was big enough to have a table and chairs.

"I'm in shock. It's beautiful." You told him and he smiled, looking pleased with himself.

"You're beautiful. Now wanna see the closet?" He asked and you nodded, wondering what else he had in store for you. The closet was like a whole house. First, there was a seemingly normal shoe, bag and accessory closet with a massive mirror and all your makeup neatly organised. Then some stairs led up to a whole top floor filled with your and Harry's clothes.

"Harry, this must-have taken forever..." You trained off.

"That's why I didn't get home until late. It was mainly the boys that did the final touches." You thought Harry not being to be home until 8 was a normal thing, it did worry you.

But now it was making sense, him insisting on going to lunch before you got here was just time to get it ready.

"I love you so much." You told him as you brought your lips together. "Not even for the materialistic aspect of everything you've done. Just that you care enough about us to do this."

"I just want you two to be happy. Now come and look at the bathroom, you sap." He joked as he walked through a door which led into a big room with a bath, fireplace, shower, two vanities and a toilet. There was also a door to the bedroom.

"Harry!" You screamed. "It's all so amazing." You told him before you leant into his side. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"I'm glad you think so." He said before he kissed you again.

"Mummy! Hazzy! Can we go on the waterslide?" Lily's voice came as she ran through the room, making you pull away from your kiss.

Lately 'Hazzy' was her nickname for Harry and while he was delighted she was calling him that, he was gunning for the title of dad.

"Yeah!" Harry agreed and you smiled at the two of them. "Go get changed and I'll come with you for the first slide, then we can play in the pool." Lily ran off with the biggest smile on her face and you turned to Harry with an equally big smile on yours.

"We better go get changed then." You winked at him before going to the closet.

"Can you pretty please wear the green one, please?" He begged as you searched through your swimsuits and briefly picked up a dark green one.

It made you inwardly roll your eyes at him. "I am not wearing this." You continued as you held it out. "It's way too complicated and a little slutty." He just looked annoyed as you showed him another option. "This one?" You held up one of your favourite yellow bikinis.

"I like it, but can you wear the other one when we go to the hot tub tonight?" He asked, almost like he was telling you.

You laughed at him. "Who says I'm going in the hot tub with you tonight?" You finished changing and walked across to see Harry who wasn't ready because of how distracted he was checking you out.

He picked up his iconic yellow shorts, which ironically matched your bikini, and began undressing. "Oh, I'm definitely getting you in the hot tub tonight." He said as if it were a challenge. His low voice made him so much more attractive.

After he finished changing you stood there kissing for a few minutes.

Lily raced in a few seconds later. "Let's go! Let's go!"

"Alright," Harry said as he got dragged to her room.

"Hold on, I'm going down to the pool, then I'll film when you come down." You said as you grabbed your phone and raced downstairs, quickly trying to find the perfect angle to watch them pop out of the waterslide.

"Ahhh!" You heard Lily's voice a second before she and Harry came splashing out into the pool. "That was so much fun, can we go again?" She asked, looking up at Harry who held her because of how deep the water was.

And that was how the rest of the day went, Lily going down the waterslide before running up the stairs to go again.

Finally, you got out of the pool and left Harry to supervise Lily while you made dinner. That night as you, Lily and Harry ate dinner, while looking out over the LA skyline, everything was perfect.

And, later in the night, the hot tub with Harry was just as perfect.

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urlocalbunny · 4 years

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.dp in two holes - belXethanXelo.

warnings: this isn’t some half-assed threesome. Not in this household. Beliath and Ethan do the do and kiss and suck each other off. And that’s on period >:c

I did not especify if she was somebody’s chalice or if she even is one, so that you can feel free to imagine… or not.

It was late and Ethan wouldn’t stop smacking the door. Eloise slipped into a tiny black velvet strap dress that ended on her upper thighs and exposed her whole back. She did a black smoky eye and put red lipstick on, tying her hair in a curly and a bit messy bun, letting a few curls out, and combing her fringe. She then thanked the heavens she did never snitch on Ivan when he used to sneak out in the past because they became friends and he gave her this expensive, golden glittery pair of sandals she was slipping on right now. She clasped her back chains Bel gave her and checked herself in the mirror before locking her door.

"So?“ Ethan stared at her chest.

”… Let’s just not talk about how delicious you look right now.“ Ethan said, skipping to the staircase and jumping, making her laugh.

Partying with Beliath and Ethan was on Eloise’s plans for quite some time now. They practically buzzed with excitement when Beliath called them from the kitchen door saying they just had to get ready because he needed a nice night to relax after going nuts to organize this party. He wasn’t in his best mood and he deserved to let go. Ethan just was never in a good mood, and Eloise, well, she just wanted to dance a little bit.

And she also maybe had a tiny, small plan.

One thing she noticed every time they went together anywhere was the sexual tension between the two vampires. Ethan seemed to want to fuck Beliath badly but that would seem weird if he didn’t have some sort of alibi, and Beliath devoured Ethan with his eyes every time he was a bit drunk, blushing and panting from the dancing or from kissing some other girl in a tiny corner.

Eloise wanted to fuck both of them, so she would just… Push their buttons a little and see just what happened.

Her eyes wandered to the entrance, thanking Aaron’s “innocent” compliment on her outfit. If even him was looking, this should work. All eyes were on them, she knew it. It would make it a little harder for Ethan, but maybe fueling Beliath’s flame would spice things up with the right push. She didn’t waste any time. This was the kind of game she played to win.

The girl knew Beliath most likely would drink one shot. Then he would call a cute chick to dance in the main lobby. He’d attract enough attention to him, so she could work with Ethan in the kitchen without people pestering them.

"So, what do you recommend today?“ She said by his side on the kitchen stall. He looked at her, thinking.

"Depends on what you’re looking for. Want to have a blast tonight?“

"I’m looking for something… Spicy.” She said, knowing damn well Ethan would respond to her implications. “But not too strong, I don’t want to lose my grasp tonight, I still want to dance.” She looked at him in the eyes. Would he bite the bait?

He smirked. She scored a point.

"Oh, I see…“ He filled her cup for her, watching her chug her drink. “How do you like it?” He asked, knowing he made the right choice.

“You just want to hear me say I love it, don’t you?” She said, amused.

"You know me too well.“ She could do what he liked his girls to do, but she was not going to let him forget this night if everything went right.

"Oh, do I?” She wondered, sliding a hand up to his thigh. He eyed her suspiciously for a second, but then returned her stare. Two could play this game on his head.

"What are you trying to do?“ He smirked again, leaning in slightly. “You know how much I love to steal girls from Beliath. With how much he fancies you, I just won’t resist if you keep going” he tried to test her with his half-joke, but she knew better than that.

"What are you implying?“ She feigned innocence. "I just want to dance with you a little."

"Oh?” He stood up. “What are you waiting for, then? Let’s get going.”

She stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the crowd inside the lobby. Just the right angle and some dirty stares would do the job. Beliath knew what a calling was when he saw one.

She started to sway her hips softly to the music, moving her legs to match Ethan’s energetic rhythm. She did what they usually did until the vampire was enjoying himself, then she started to get closer. And closer. And a bit closer, throwing her arms around his neck. That surprised him for a bit, but he soon slid an arm around her waist, swaying her to the beat and lowering his hand to feel the exposed small of her back. She shivered, turning around to press her back on his chest. He held her hip lightly, not thinking much of it until she started pushing against him.

"You’re playing a really dangerous game.“ He murmured in the shell of her ear. She just lifted her head to look at him with a confused expression as she ground against him. His movements started to follow hers, wavering on the dance floor. The way he stared at her made an unspoken challenge. That’s exactly how she wanted to hook him. Now it was time to make their friend bite the bait.

Beliath was dancing on the other side of the room, but the eyes were not on him anymore. Something called the attention. He looked at them and his brows furrowed. He was having fun without him? Eloise pushed her hips against Ethan as he whispered something in her ear, a wandering hand caressing her belly and then squeezing her hip enough to bruise. Everyone just knew the sexual tension was in the air, but he could feel it more. He could feel the energy, the way he smiled when she answered something nasty he whispered in her ear, the way they laughed.

Eloise caught him staring. He thought she would blush the way she always did when he made some dirty remarks about something, but she kept staring. Her eyes wandered to the exposed skin of his chest, to his stomach, and lower… She licked her lips. And then she did what Beliath wanted her to do the least: She smiled. A tempting, shitty little grin she always grinned at Ivan when she won a race and he absolutely would adore seeing on another occasion.

She turned her head around and the demon almost could think she made sure to show her pale neck like she wanted him to bite. She smiled while whispering something on his friend’s ear, making his blue eyes focus on him. He didn’t smile, though. His eyes wandered just like Eloise’s did, but quickly, and then he proceeded to turn his head and kiss Eloise slowly. That shot right to his crotch. He knew his feet were moving, but he honestly did not want to stop himself.

"My, my. What do we have here?” He towered over her, looking at Ethan’s eyes as they pulled away. He looked dazed, while Eloise looked at him.

"We’re having fun!“ She said as if nothing was happening and draped her arms around his neck. Ethan looked at the motion, holding her closely and smirking to see if they were going to fight over her. Beliath accepted the challenge. That was just what Eloise needed. Her hands pulled him close and he grabbed her neck, kissing fervently. Eloise couldn’t see it, but Beliath was looking into Ethan’s eyes as he ground on her ass.

He moved his hand from her neck to Ethan’s, pulling him close. With that, Eloise pushed the right buttons and won the game.

She was stuck between them when it happened. Beliath held the hairs on the back of the other’s neck, meeting his upper lip and kissing slowly at first. Ethan had wide eyes, while the oldest kept his open and trained on his too, but with sheer desire.

Eloise just knew he wanted to kiss Beliath without being too obvious about it, so it wasn’t a surprise when he moaned and slipped his tongue into the demon’s mouth, closing his eyes and pulling Beliath closer with one hand, squeezing Eloise’s thigh with the other.

Their kiss lasted for a while, so Eloise decided to turn around as best as she could and ease Ethan into it. She kissed his chest and neck, taking advantage of her smaller height to suck on his skin without breaking the kiss the boys shared. Beliath’s hand found her hips, squeezing, and grinding against her just like Ethan was doing a while ago.

"We should go upstairs.” The demon panted, making Ethan nod eagerly. They left the lobby in a hurry, everyone was quiet but Eloise had a grin on her face. Beliath pulled them both inside of his room, locking the door and pushing Eloise by her ass against Ethan, who just crashed his lips against hers. The demon squeezed them both together against the door by pushing his hips on Eloise’s ass, sliding his hands against her thighs and riding up her dress, watching them moan and bite each other's lips from time to time as the door shook under Ethan’s back.

He lifted his hands, cupping her left breast with one, squeezing it and undoing the chains in her back with the other, throwing it on the couch across the room.

"Hey, careful!“ She grunted.

"Shut up, come back here.” Ethan panted, kissing her neck and freeing her hair from the delicate pin just to roll it around his hand and pull it back, exposing more for him to taste. “You smell so fucking good.” He murmured as Beliath slid the thin straps on the dress off her shoulders and encouraged her to pull her arms off, letting the front fall to her hips and exposed her boobs just in time for Ethan to see them and latch his mouth on one of her nipples, moaning in response to her fist on his hair and her cute mouth open.

Beliath stripped her off the dress and turned his head to kiss her hungrily, squeezing the boob Ethan was biting and sucking on eagerly. He pulled on her lace panties, making them snap on her skin.

"That hurt!“ She croaked out making the younger vampire giggle. The girl turned around poking her ass for him, starting to unbutton Beliath’s shirt and kiss his neck and chest, sliding it off of him in the process. She did his buttons fast, pushing him to the bed and holding Ethan to fall on top of him with her, a tiny shriek followed by a giggle falling from her lips.

"You look too dressed. Come here.” Beliath pulled the other man’s collar, peeling his coat off as Eloise worked on his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He then pulled his shirt off and kissed him eagerly, pulling Eloise’s wrist softly. And making her kneel on their side. “Lay down."

"Why do you call the shots?” Ethan retorted, smirking but soon shivering as Beliath pulled his boxers off, holding his cock and pumping it before laying down between his legs. “F-fuck, you’re gonna suck me off?” Beliath looked at him through his long lashes, licking a strap on the underside of his throbbing length slowly, reaching for Eloise’s panties.

"And you wonder why he’s in control?“ The girl teased, opening her legs a little to help him slide them off as he bobbed his head into Ethan, making him arch his back and whine a cracked "Fuck, feels good."

"Shut up, what are you going to do?” Ethan teased.

"Oh, I’m about to shut you up.“ She said, caging his head between her legs, with her back turned to the other vampire.

"Shit.” He hissed before giving Beliath a quick look. His eyes green widened a bit and he moaned around his cock as Eloise sat on his face.

"What, do you like that too, Bel?“ She asked, riding slowly while Ethan sucked her every time she went back and forth. She moaned, guessing her juices were dribbling down a little on his chin by the way Bel whined around the shaft.

Soon, Ethan was writhing while Beliath gagged on his dick, relishing on how much he seemed to like Eloise’s pussy on his mouth. He wanted to taste her too.

"Come here and sit on my face too, doll.” He said hoarsely, making Ethan protest while Eloise seemed on the verge of cumming.

"Fuck, just a sec, I think I’m gonna…“ She squeaked, rolling her hips as Ethan’s rutted in the air. Beliath blew cold air on his tip, making him whine as he watched her come undone "Just like that, Ethan, just like that.” She breathes out and backed away while he kept sucking, finally letting her go.

Meanwhile, the demon stood up, fetching a lube bottle and tossing it to Ethan.

"Do you know what frottage means, love?“ He asked, laying down and eyeing him with lust.

"You’ll find out soon enough.” He said, making the girl chuckle as he spilled lube on Beliath’s dick, pumping it a few times for good measure, wasting no time and rubbing his on it.

The oldest hissed under Eloise, who was still sensitive, and yet was not being shown any mercy by Beliath, that bit her inner thighs lightly, holding her legs open wide with his arms, licking and slurping hard.

"Fuck, sensitive, sensitive!“ She said, bucking her hips to match his tongue anyways. Her loud moans only fueled both men further, making the youngest snap his hips against Beliath’s, who moaned at the heavenly drag of their dicks together. Eloise sobbed in pure bliss, suddenly pulling the arms holding her hard enough to break free and lowered herself to where they were both grinding.

"Hmm, fuck me.” She whined, shaking her ass lightly for them.

"Fuck, Ethan, get the lube back.“ Beliath motioned for the edge of the bed where the bottle was forgotten and eased himself on Eloise’s entrance, pushing in easily and staying still. Ethan squeezed the bottle again, this time on her other hole, making her whine.

He pushed his finger slightly. "Are you sure?”

"This is not the first time I do this, I keep it clean. Just hurry and fuck me.“ She retorted, pleading with her eyes. He dragged back and forth, adding a second finger after a while and scissoring them, making her whine and plead with Bel to move. He was too busy sucking on her boobs to answer, but the way he held her hips in place was enough to answer. After a few minutes of the both of them dragging it out and playing with her, teasing and thrusting shallowly, Ethan decided he had enough and lined himself up with her, squeezing through slowly. She tried to push back into him, just to have Beliath glaring at her.

"Be careful, we don’t want to hurt you.” He pinched her ass.

“And you say that pinching me?“ She yelped, a dirty smile on her face. It didn’t last long, though, because Ethan buried himself to the hilt, pressing up against her ass. Then, he pulled out and moved in. Beliath moved out on time, and they both started fucking her on a nice rhythm that had her rolling her eyes and whining their names, riding them just right.

"Shit, you’re too tight,” Beliath whispered, arching his back and thrusting upwards. His needy moans made Ethan want to kiss him, so he pulled Eloise to sit up by the arms and then the back of her knees, seeing how Beliath didn’t even pull out. “Did you just think you could hog her for yourself?” He teased, taking advantage of their sitting position to snap his hips harshly against her, moaning her name loudly and reaching for her clit, rubbing it. She croaked out a string of “thank you’s”, her pussy throbbing for all she was worth, tears streaming down her face and ruining her pretty makeup. She was a mess, biting Beliath’s shoulder and bucking her hips with no signs of stopping, holding into Ethan’s neck from the front as his chest pressed into her back, clawing at him and pulling his hair.

He grabbed Bel’s neck, kissing his mouth and swallowing his moans, giving him others as they both couldn’t take how tightly she squeezed around them and gave out one after the other, almost as if seeing the way Ethan call for both of them made the demon burst inside of Eloise.

They stayed like that. The girl sniffed, resting her head against Beliath, whispering two or three “feels so good” as her hands trembled on his chest and she closed her eyes.

"You both are not getting rid of me after that.“ Ethan said groggily.

"I’m the one who should say that to you both.” Bel laughed, pulling out and sighing in contempt, holding both of them in his arms and kissing their heads. “Now you both, go shower and bed now, because of you both I left the party without a host!"

"Yes, Vlad,” Eloise mumbled, standing up in her wobbly legs to move to the tub. Ethan cackled in the bed, helping her stand.

”Don’t call me that!“

#moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers fanfiction #moonlight lovers smut #beliath x eloise #beliath smut #ethan x eloise #ethan smut #beliath headcanons #ethan headcanons #ml beliath #ml ethan #kinktober 2020 #nsfwbunny

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circumstellars · 4 years

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This might actually come in two parts, because I thought of a small follow-up I want to do... maybe.

Small ficlet (1600ish words again) featuring Five & Ben, 12 years old. Features my headcanon/theory that Ben was killed by The Horror unexpectedly, not murdered by anyone else. I’m sorry I’m rusty with writing, as I said I don’t often do it anymore. All mistakes are my sad little failures. Inspired by this request by @five-fucking-hargreeves:

1:07 AM

Five hated time.

Literally, time itself. The whole concept is genuinely bonkers and frankly, is an unnecessary evil. Anyone with a mouth will tell you time is like a river, a constant, gentle flow that is quick to escape through your fingers.

1:08 AM

Time was too slow for Five. Time was spilt molasses, a slow trail of amber creeping along a crease in the universe. Instead of swimming through it like water, time threatened to swallow Five up in its viscous, arcane pools.

He stood at its shoreline and glowered. Soon.

1:09 AM

Fucking finally. He held a deep breath in and patiently listened to the gentle orchestra of creaks and groans performed by their century old mansion.

Then, without fail: the timely, brisk footsteps of his father. Five rather thought his father's predictability was his biggest weakness. It's what he hopes will someday be his undoing (whether it should be at Five's own hands or not, he wasn't sure yet).

The steady sound of Sir Reginald's footsteps disappeared into his locked study.

Five rounded the corner, moving as lightly as he could on the pads of his toes. The marble floors felt like never-ending sheets of ice, but he knew he wouldn't make it the whole way in one jump; last time he ended up in the attic... locked from the outside. Honestly, that was pretty scary.

He swiftly made his way down the hall, past Diego, Allison and Klaus' respective rooms, and down the first 3 stairs of the main staircase before he was able to see the nearest entrance to the kitchen. Without stopping, Five took in a breath and jumped.

That wasn't so hard.

He was standing on the coils of the stove, but he was in the kitchen.

Five huffed in triumph and hopped off the stovetop. Studiously and nimbly he moved down the list, though his stomach howled at him to move it along already - he was twelve now and lately the portions at dinner were looking smaller and smaller. Knife. Plate. Mom insisted the only thing changing was Five himself, something about sprouting weeds, metaphors that make him roll his eyes every time. Bread. Marshmallows. Peanu-- Wait, what? Where is the peanut butter?

Five's brow creased with irritation.

'It's in the freezer.'

The yelp that escaped him was completely involuntary. Five snapped around, genuinely surprised to find his brother was sitting just out of reach of the yellow stove light. Ben was folded over on a stool, tucked away between a china cabinet and the freezer box. He inhaled wetly.

'Thanks,' Five said slowly, and he peered at Ben as he shuffled toward the freezer box. Ben didn't return his look. His brother wasn't in his pajamas, the same ones they all wore; Ben was still in the white linen shirt and trousers Mom had put him in earlier that day. Even in the dull glow of the stove light, Five saw the jagged path of dried blood that had soaked a crimson belt into Ben's midsection.

He'd had an accident on their mission today.

Five looked away and pulled the peanut butter out of the freezer box, careful to let the lid drop quietly. 'Why did you know it was in the freezer?'

Ben hesitated. His arms were crossed and he squeezed his biceps visibly tight. Five had always been very patient with Ben - he was one of the least annoying people in this house, and he might even admit he was rather fond of him at times. A decidedly resigned sigh echoed in the large, empty kitchen. 'Klaus. Don't tell on me.'

Five pretended to mull this request over. His brother is naïve; Five would rather chew on nail clippings than give up info to Klaus.

Besides, he liked Ben.

'Klaus is stupid. One wrong move and someone's going to tell Dad he sneaks out to smoke cigarettes.'

'Sometimes it's glue.'

'You can't smoke glue, Ben.'

Ben exhaled, though Five could tell he was stuffy with snot. 'He sniffs it, Five.'

In a rare bout of sheepishness, Five felt his cheeks warm. 'Whatever. Like I care what weird things that lunatic puts up his nose.' He waves the jar of peanut butter in a careless gesture. 'Unless it shuts him up, it's not working.'

Ben didn't respond. Things fell quiet around them.

A dull ache bloomed in Five's chest. He really didn't want to revisit today's incident. Usually they don't finish a mission with anything more than a scrape or a few bruises, so seeing Ben as heavily injured as he was secretly terrified Five. He shook his head and proverbially shed the darker thoughts. He shuffled uncomfortably on the freezing tile floor.

'Five.'

When Ben's voice came, it was painfully thin. He was still stooped over, his soft, black fringe obscuring his face at this angle.

'Yeah?'

'If... if it happens again, like really, really bad... are you-' Ben choked a bit. 'Are y-you going to have to kill me?'

Five's stomach dropped into the floor. The next breath he took in burned his lungs. The kitchen felt like it was shrinking. '... What?' The sound that came out was more air than word, and Five couldn't seem to feel his toes anymore.

'Five-'

'Why? Why would we do that? Why... why would you think that?' Five found his voice, but his words came out far more accusatory than he meant. He realised right away his anger wasn't with Ben: it was with himself. What in any holy deity's name had he done to make Ben think this garbage?

He didn't think twice about closing the gap between them with a jump. Five immediately dropped to his knees, letting the peanut butter go forgotten on the ground nearby.

Ben was sat a little taller than him in this position, and Five tried to catch his eyes with his own. He persisted, 'Why?'

He felt his brow falling and held as firm as he could to stop his expression from collapsing completely.

'I-I-If It doesn't stop, Five, if It doesn't stop you'll have to kill me, won't you!?' This time Ben was powerless against the tears. In the dim light Five caught sight of wayward tracks left from an earlier time dried on his brother's cheeks, but they quickly disappeared under fresh droplets that were racing toward his chin. Ben was sobbing with his whole chest, and Five channeled everything he was feeling into the tight balls of the fists held at his sides.

'Never. Understand me? Never.' He tentatively reached out, and as softly as he could grasped at Ben's knee. He willed as much as he could into that touch, trying as hard as possible to convey his words. 'Never.' If something did happen, Five would have to simply find another way to fix things; they all would have to. It's logical, the only right answer. Killing Ben was never on the table, Five would never allow something so ludicrous to be suggested by anyone in the first place.

Ben finally tilted his head upward, and the look in his eyes sent a sharp fracture straight through Five's heart. Big, fat teardrops were leaking from both of his brother's eyes. 'Please, please don't kill me...'

Faster than even Five has ever moved, Ben flung himself at Five and wrapped both arms in a vice grip around his midsection. It sent both brothers sliding back a bit on the tile, and instinctively Five in turn wrapped around Ben to keep them upright.

'Please, please, please. I'll get better, I will. Please, please...'

The tiny pleas were rough and stuttered and muffled into Five's neck, interrupted by sobs and hiccups. Words would never impart the relentless, tormenting nightmare of dying at his own siblings' hands.

They sat there on the kitchen floor for a time, Five cradling his brother awkwardly but tightly, knitted expression buried into Ben's tangled hair.

As the shaking in Ben's chest slowed, fury gave way to heartache for Five. Dad may have treated them like monsters, but he knew better. They were valuable. They were powerful. That scared Dad.

Five wasn't scared of Ben.

'It might happen,' he began after some time, his chin brushing the top of Ben's head as he spoke. 'But I'll be ready if it does.'

Ben pulled away just enough to wipe a long trail of snot away from his nose with a linen sleeve. 'How do you know?'

Five glanced at him, saying plainly, 'I'm faster.'

In truth, he was already planning to forgo sleep and work on equations in his room as soon as possible. He doesn't actually know how he would stop Ben from losing control of the beast inside him, but of one thing he was absolutely sure: he won't let Ben die. He will practice spatial jumps until every molecule in his body surrendered, until he can manipulate all of space-time itself: Ben will not die.

'Five -'

'I know. Dad doesn't know shit. Just trust me.' Five searched Ben's face, looking for any sign of understanding the confidence he has in this. 'Everything is going to be okay.' His left leg began to ache, asleep under his brother's weight, but he pointedly ignored it.

It took a moment, but following a shaky breath Ben whispered, 'Okay. Can you promise?'

Ben will not die.

"Yeah," Five pressed a feather-light touch to the brownish ribbons of dried blood on his brother's linen shirt, his eyes glazing over and sight disappearing into the fabric. 'I promise, Ben.'

---

Edit: fixed some tense mistakes and a couple spelling errors.

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #number six #five #ficlets #mywriting #myficlets #myworks

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dlwritings · 5 years

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Who Do You See? | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 2,086 warnings - SAD TOM IS SAD AND I’M SAD A/N - This was inspired by an excerpt from “I know What You Think of Me” by Tim Kreider for the New York Times -- this is for @your-1up-girl @little-elizabeth @racewife2004 and @tragicluver who voted for this!

summary - Sometimes all the comments get to Tom. All the press and the fans and that opinions coming in from the world. And sometimes, he just needs some of your wise words of affirmation to bring a smile back to his face.

You were the one who advised Tom to take a break from social media. You could see it was draining him, trying to please the fans all the time. He wasn’t good with technology, and constantly trying to figure out what to post and how to post it correctly was exhausting.

And people were just so critical of him. During Civil War, he wasn’t fit enough. During Homecoming, he was fit but not muscular enough. During Far From Home, he was too muscular. He felt weird in his own skin, knowing that people were scrutinizing every ridge and divot across his body. At what point did that become an interesting or appropriate conversation topic? Sure, he pretty much signed his life away to Marvel, but did that mean his body too?

And he hated talking to anyone about it, because things like that weren’t supposed to bother men. They weren’t supposed to bother him. Who cares what people say about his body, right? It shouldn’t matter.

But it did bother him, and you knew it. Some days, you would see him standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth, turning his body at different angles like he was studying himself. He always had a little crease on his forehead like he was thinking too hard, which he was. He started to wear his shirt around the house way more than he used to. Some days he’d be in sweatpants and a sweatshirt even if it was hot outside (He would just crank the AC.) like he was hiding his body away. If he was on the couch scrolling on his phone and you walked past him, you could see he was reading comments on his Instagram pictures. Something that he used to enjoy now only made the crease on his forehead a touch more permanent. Tom wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was easy to see when he was taking things personally.

So you suggested he delete Instagram and Twitter from his phone for a while and block the sites on his laptop’s internet browser. “Just take some time away,” you said to him. You had caught him pity scrolling again and sat beside him on the couch. He rested his head on your chest, and you brushed your fingers through his soft curls.

“Don’t wanna upset anyone,” he mumbled. His eyes were closed, and he wrapped his arms around your torso.

“No one’ll be upset,” you said. “And fuck ‘em if they are.”

Well, Tom couldn’t argue with that.

And for a few days, it was good. He didn’t have any projects he was working on, so the two of you got to spend a lot of time together. Without being under the microscope of a million fans, you could tell he was more relaxed. He was back to your goofy boyfriend who was shirtless way more than he needed to be and stood beside you while you brushed your teeth just so he could wrap an arm around your torso and stare at your reflection instead of his own.

And then, it wasn’t good. He wasn’t good. Because Tom was still human, and sometimes the insecurities crept up when he least expected it: after a workout, after a date night, cuddled up with you on the couch, taking a shower, waking up, going to sleep…

And he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t not think about it. What were people saying when he was offline? What pictures surfaced of him during his social media hiatus that caused the fans to analyze and critique him? He had to know. It was like an itching in his fingers that he could only scratch by scrolling.

The curse of growing up in the age of technology, he supposed.

There was no harm in googling his name. It wasn’t Instagram or Twitter. He probably wouldn’t even find any relevant hits. Nothing but his Wikipedia page and social media links, he was sure. So while you were out picking up lunch, he let his curiosity win out.

After the expected hits, he saw news articles. They all had something to do with his hiatus or a trip to the gym or do fans prefer Homecoming Tom Holland or Far From Home Tom Holland or or or-

So he locked his phone and went into the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, that familiar crease growing on his forehead. Had he gotten too muscular? Who did he prefer: Homecoming or Far From Home Tom Holland? Or Civil War Tom Holland? Or pre-Marvel Tom Holland? He knew, technically, he was currently Far From Home Tom Holland, but what did that even mean? Had his identity officially been reduced to what movie he was currently promoting? Or how big his muscles were during each film shoot? Honestly, looking at the news articles and fan polls, he didn’t recognize any of those Tom Holland’s. Even the one in the mirror felt like a manufactured copy of who he once was.

He wondered then which Tom Holland you saw when you looked at him. You had known him longer than anyone in his life, so you experienced every Tom Holland. Who did you like the most? Who were you most comfortable with? Who did you find the most attractive? Who were you in love with? Who did you see when you looked at him now?

You came home to silence. You expected the TV to be on or music to be blasting, but there wasn’t. When you left to get food, Tom was showering. Was he still getting ready? Or had he gotten lost in his mind again? You assumed the latter but hoped you were wrong. So you set the food on the counter and headed into your bedroom. Tom was still in the adjoined bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, and staring blankly at his reflection. His hands were gripping the countertop, his eyes squinting like he was criticizing every flaw, and that crease etching itself into his forehead.

“Was it Instagram or Twitter?”

Tom jumped when you spoke. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you come home. “Neither,” he said, finally looking away from his reflection. He leaned up against the bathroom door frame and folded his arms across his chest. You raised your eyebrows at him, and he shrugged. “Google.” You sighed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. He hugged you back, but it wasn’t his usual tight bear hug. It was hesitant, like he didn’t want you close to him.

Like he was afraid you’d feel a ridge or divot you didn’t like.

You pulled away and put your hands on his shoulders. He hung his head so he didn’t have to meet your eyes. His curls fell in front of his forehead, so you brushed them away and urged him to look at you. Tom didn’t cry very often. When he was sad, he just looked exhausted. His eyes would get red (not teary, just red), and he’d be sporting bags under them. That was how he looked then, and it was how you knew that he wasn’t good again.

You pressed your lips into a tight line and took Tom’s hand, leading him back into the bedroom where you had a full length mirror. You sat on the floor in front of it and patted the ground between your open legs. “C’mere,” you said. He hesitated but did as you said. He faced the mirror, and you wrapped your arms around him and put your chin on his shoulder. You peppered kissed across his skin, and Tom hung his head again. Just as you were ready to say something, he spoke first.

“Who do you see when you look at me?”

You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean-” He sighed. “Who do you see? Everyone talks about Civil War Tom Holland and Homecoming Tom Holland and Far From Home Tom Holland, and I don’t even know which one I am anymore. Or which one I’m supposed to be. Or which one you want me to be. It’s like-” He cut himself off, annoyed for getting so emotional over something so stupid. Something that men were not supposed to be bothered by.

“It’s like what?” you asked, rubbing your thumbs across his soft skin.

He sighed again. “It’s like I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror anymore. And I’m scared that one day you won’t like this Tom Holland. I’m scared I won’t like this Tom Holland.”

You were quiet for a long time. Tom worried he had said the wrong thing. Maybe you hadn’t thought about whether you liked this Tom Holland before, but now he brought it up and you were considering it. Maybe he had ruined everything just like that. He was preparing himself for you to say the worst.

“I read something once about a guy who dreamt about a weird invention.”

He hadn’t prepared for that.

“It was a staircase where you could go deep underground, and you’d hear recordings of everything people have ever said about you- the good and the bad. The catch was, you had to pass all the horrible things in order to get to the best things at the very bottom. I don’t even think I would make it four steps down, but the guy explained the logic behind it: if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

You brushed your fingers through Tom’s hair, and he relaxed against your chest. “You’re a star, Tom,” you said. “And you have to handle the really bad things in order to reap the benefits of being famous- as much as that sucks. And your staircase would be so much longer than mine because people think they have the right to say whatever they want about you. But if you want to reach the bottom of the staircase, you have to be secure enough in yourself to hold your head high through the horribleness.” You paused. “But you know what else?” He met your eyes in the mirror. “You’re not going down this staircase alone. I think that’s where it’s logic fails. It thinks that we’d have to go down on our own, but we wouldn’t. Because I know I’d want you to be with me when I heard whatever good things have been said about me at the bottom, because that’s a joy I wouldn’t want to celebrate alone. And you’d help me through all the horrible things, so it’d be worth it. And I’d do the same for you.”

You nuzzled your face against Tom’s neck and kissed him. Your thumbs were still rubbing soft circles on his stomach.

You loved all his ridges and divots.

“When I look at you, I don’t see Civil War Tom Holland, or Homecoming Tom Holland, or Far From Home Tom Holland. I just see Tom. I see my beautiful West London boy whom I love with my whole heart, not despite the flaws, but because of them. Because you’re not perfect-” You scoffed. “-and thank god, because I’m an absolute disaster.”

Tom laughed, the smile on his face more genuine than it had been in ages. He turned around to face you, so you were sitting with his thighs crossed over yours. You giggled and draped your arms over his shoulders, curling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss you shared was so soft and so caring and you were both so so in love.

“C’mon,” you said, moving your legs from under his and standing up. You reached your hand out to him and helped pull him off the ground. “I went to the sandwich shop on the corner.”

“Yes!” he cheered, pulling you in for a playful yet bone-crushing hug before you hit his shoulders and made him let go.

“What a weirdo,” you said. He laughed and slapped your butt as you walked ahead of him to go back to the kitchen.

Sometimes, Tom just had to be reminded that, despite the films and fans and critiques and polls, he would always just be Tom. And he liked that guy more than any Tom Holland the world had opinions on.

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

TAGLIST

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #marvel

804 notes · View notes

asmolqueen · 4 years

Text

Mission Accomplished

@sanderssidescelebrations Pairing: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders Prompt: Mistletoe Warnings: sympathetic Deceit and sympathetic Remus, Remy is drunk in the end and so is Remus Summary: Lola and Ramona are gay disasters. Peyton does her best to help them. Operation Logince is in the works. Also it's Christmas time. btw this is a genderbend story- Yes I’m aware this is very late. I’m also working on the others still- Read on AO3

“Peyton, help me.”

“How are you expecting me to help, if I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“I think I’m in love with Lola?”

Peyton stared at her best friend in disbelief for a moment. “Excuse me, what?”

“Like, I’m so impressed by her? She’s like, seriously smart, and absolutely gorgeous by the way — I can’t make sense of how a person just naturally that pretty? — and like, her way of speaking so articulate? She’s just- I think she might be who I’ve been looking for all this time?”, the brunette girl sighed, almost sounding lovesick.

“Woah there, hold your horses, Ramona, don’t get your hopes too high, you remember what happened the last time you thought a girl was the one?”

“Yeah, kinda weird how Remedee and Delaney are already engaged-”

“Exactly!”

“Well, I don’t think Remedee would be Lola’s type or the other way around, and like I said, the’re engaged, Patty.”

The blonde rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses. Usually she’d be ecstatic to help her friend in these kinda situation, but she’s been hurt twice in a row and this was a different kind of crush or being in love than Delaney or even Ramona's Ex-Girlfriend.

This was Lola.

Their best friend.

The only reason she had met Virginia.

This was completely different.

She needed proof that this wasn’t going to flop.

“Give me three days.”, Peyton suddenly said, looking back at the girl in front of her. “Then I’ll give you an estimate on if this will work and how long it will take. Sound good?”

Ramona jumped up and hugged the blonde with so much impact, that they almost fell off the coffee table that Peyton had been seated on. “Thank you so much!”

After she got back up, Ramona dusted herself off and smiled sweetly. “I’ll be off then, Rem asked me if I wanted to join her and Dee at Dinner tonight. She claimed that Dee set her up to ask me, but when I said that I was at your place, she looked like a lost puppy, so I had to say yes.”, she chuckled. “So, I’ll text you?”

“See you, Rori!”, Peyton called after her ash she watched her escape through the front door of the apartment. “Virge! I need to talk to you right now!”

Her purple haired roommate and girlfriend stepped out of the room, a black ball of fur on her arm and a grumpy look on her face. “Whaaaat? Pandora and I were trying to take a nap back there, you know?”

“Sorry, Stormcloud, I need you to dig around a bit for me, though.”, She explained got up from the table, heading toward the slightly shorter girl. “You’re adorable, you know? Oh and, Virge, I think you’re okay, too.”

Virginia just stared at her in disbelief. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend? You must’ve finally met Remedee, was she here instead of Ramona and tinted your innocence?”

“Honestly, you’re terrible.”, she deadpanned before kissing the girl on the cheek. “Let’s go cuddle with Pandora and then I’ll explain what’s up?”

“Sounds fantastic.”

After a while of them just lazily petting the furball that Pandora was, Peyton began to speak.

“Ramona is all head over heels for Lola.”

Virginia froze for a moment before jerking her head to the side to look at the blonde. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be! This is terrible!”

“No, actually, this is fucking perfect!”

Peyton gasped, though it was rather fake, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to change her girlfriends habit of cursing in every situation. Nonetheless, she followed the sound with a rather squeaky “Language!”

“So, why is it perfect?”

“Remember the call that woke us up last night? Lola needed advice. She couldn’t sleep, which is old news, I know, but!”, she paused for dramatic effect. “This wasn’t casual insomnia, Lola and I both know what that feels like and that wasn’t it. Her mind was twisting and turning and no matter what happened, her thoughts drifted to our perfect little princess!”

Peyton squeaked, in excitement this time. “And I have the perfect plan!”, she exclaimed before pulling out her phone and texting her brunette friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open File Mission Name: Operation ‘Logince’ Status: Accepted Code Name: Agent P Agent’s Personal Info: Peyton Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Hart, 23 — In A Relationship Accomplice: No One Miss Prince Would Expect Estimated Success Rate: 78% Estimated Date Of Success: 1st Of January Close File

Permission To Let Miss Peyton E. Hart Take On The Mission And Let Her Do Whatever She Feels Necessary?

[YES.] [NO.] [I HAVE QUESTIONS.]

[I HAVE QUESTIONS.]

Agent P Can Not Answer Any Questions About The Mission. She Did Not Expect Miss Ramona Juliette Prince To Pick This Option, As It Is Unavailable As Of Now.

Do You Accept The Terms and Conditions And Swear To Trust Miss Hart?

[YES] [NO] [*insert curse-word* you.

Yes.]

[*insert curse-word* you.

Yes.]

Thank You For Responding. I Will Now Let You Talk To Miss Hart.

RAMONA I GOT A SOLUTION

I saw, you doofus. I need’a eat with Miss Remedee Kathrina Prince and her girlfriend, miss Delaney Guja for dinner, if you’d excuse me?

Gladly! Say Hi from me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks after that, the friend group met for their yearly Christmas party, which was more of a calm get together, if you ignored Remedee’s whole behavior, this year it was held at the shared place of Emilie and Ramona.

Peyton and Virginia thought this to be the perfect opportunity to carry out their plan. And they also had a woman on the inside.

Although Emelie wasn’t too keen on just playing with her friends feelings and getting into their relationship, she agreed when the girlfriends explained that both girls had deeply fallen for each other and that they had their reasons to ask for help.

The party was, like every year, set on the night of the 25th. It had been going rather calm, even Remedee was slightly reserved, which had scared Peyton and Ramona a slight bit, but she didn’t mention it, and they had all just exchanged gifts and everyone was being rather cutesy about it.

There were kisses and hugs everywhere, which had Peyton’s heart melting, she loved how they were all just a big family.

After Virginia had slightly hinted at the more-than-friends behavior René and Emelie had toward each other and that they had to find out what that was later, she reminded her girlfriend of their mission. They gave Emelie a small sign that they had talked about before and got to work.

The smallest of the bunch had excused herself to go to the bathroom, her girlfriend had distracted her best friend with some cute photos she had taken of Pandora. And maybe some couple pictures, but Virginia didn’t need to know that.

Emelie had gotten to her part, talking to Lola about the psychology behind dreams, it was a subject she knew the black haired couldn’t resist.

Perfect.

While the plan had been going as it was planned, Remedee and René had sneaked into the kitchen to pop the first bottle of champagne. That would be a problem that the bunch would have to deal with later.

Delaney had to leave earlier, her little sister, Amber, had called, it was something urgent, but she didn’t tell the others why, just that it would be fine and they should continue having fun.

“So basically, our little sunshine is… Actually a sunshine? Or are you just that good at photoshop?”, Ramona had asked, laughing.

Peyton had tried for quite a while to get Ramona in the right position, they needed all of it to be perfect, and had grown frustrated at this point.

How do you make a person move backwards?

As Emelie had noticed that, she gave her friend the tiniest of nods, trying to communicate to her, that she got it.

Because, in comparison to Ramona, Lola didn’t like to be too close to people, so if Emilie moved closer to the black haired, she would subconsciously walk backwards.

That did the job, both unbelievably oblivious girls were now standing back to back, with Peyton and Emilie smiling at each other, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice.

Virginia, who had never went to the bathroom in the first place, had been impatiently waiting on top of the staircase, a huge grin on her face.

“Yo! Teach, Princey!”, she yelled and held her arm out over them.

Peyton held back a squeal while Emilie quietly chuckled.

The mentioned girls were both looking up to see the small arrangement the purple haired was holding.

A mistletoe.

Lola was the first to look down from it and turned to her crush, staring for a bit.

After a while of mentally cursing every single Disney villain she could think of, and that were a lot, Ramona also decided to look away from the mistletoe. Lola was as red as her favorite dress, and the brunette suspected that she’d look the same. “Well, I- I know the rules but if you- I mean we don’t gotta, you know? Like, if you're not wanting to, that’s fine with me- I just-”

While Ramona was trying to form a sentence, Lola considered her chances.

It was a fifty/fifty in her book. Either she would be rejected, or not. She was gonna regret it anyway, but who cared. She would take advantage of that moment.

So Lola did a thing that no one expected, she grabbed the collar of her crushes shirt and pulled her close. “Zip it.”

And then her lips were on Ramona’s.

Virginia almost let the mistletoe fall on top of them in the attempt to keep her composure and took a few pictures short after, the angle possibly not the best, but she knew none of the technically unoccupied girls would be able to move apart from the grins that were getting wider by the second.

As Ramona stood there frozen, thanking whatever deity helped her, Lola grew more and more anxious over her decision. She was about to pull back when the brunette put her arms around her neck and kissed back.

Que a wolf whistle from the general direction of the kitchen.

“Get some, sis!”, was yelled, rather drunkenly.

Both immediately jumped back and Ramona turned to her sister. “Rem!”, she yelled, her voice cracking. “Why?”

“Well, you know?”, Remedee said, still sounding very drunk, getting closer to the bunch with René trailing behind, “Revenge.”

And the way she said it, so serious and sober, had almost scared Ramona, until her twin started laughing and almost falling over.

The brunette girl turned to her best friend. “Peyton?”

“Don’t at me! You granted me permission to do anything!”

“So you decided to make my roommate pull a Brutus on me? How considerate.”

“I asked. And if it weren’t for Virginia I wouldn’t have been able to do it!”

Lola just blinked for a while before clearing her throat. “Excuse me?”

“Riiiiight... So you weren’t in for any of it but I kinda broke my promise?”, Virginia started as she was supporting René and standing with the group.

The black haired raised an eyebrow. “Virginia?”

She sighed and decided to load the literal weight on her shoulders onto Emelie and also finally get rid of the metaphorical one of breaking a promise. “Ramona told Peyton she likes you the day after you so graciously woke me and my cat up because you couldn’t sleep because you’re too gay for this shit. So we talked and figured out we needed to get you two together and well,” the girl looked at her accomplices. “We didn’t think you’d be the one to initiate that. So I’m not sure about these two, but I’m still stunned.”

“So you planned that.”

“Yes.”

“And you all knew about it.”

“Pretty much?”

“And all of you kept shut in front of me?”

“Looks like it.”

Lola nodded. “I’m impressed. That’s literally the first thing ever that you were able to keep from me.”

Peyton’s face lit up. “You’re not mad?”

“Babe, we literally had her and her crush kissing, why would she be mad?”

“Good point.”

Ramona, who was kind of embarrassed at this point, just linked arms with Lola and let her away from the group, so they were sitting on the couch now, talking. Both of them still had the slightest tints of pink on their faces, but both had smiles on their faces.

“Mission accomplished!”, Peyton said, looking back to the others, wanting to hug both her teammates, until she saw how Emilie had to try to keep René away from trying to kiss her.

“You need help there, Em?”, Virginia had asked with a smirk.

“Nope, I’m fine! It’s fine! I’m good.”

And just like that, the team had another mission. Taking care of two drunk disasters who were absolutely horrible.

At least two of them woke up without headaches the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open File Mission Name: Operation ‘Logince’ Status: Accepted Agent: Peyton Elizabeth Hart Accomplices: Virginia Church, Emelie Picani End Of Mission: 25th of December Mission Accomplished Close File

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sunfloweradore · 5 years

Text

winsome*

- harry is an annoyed paperboy -

Harry fucking hated his job. In fact, the word “hate” probably couldn’t even begin to describe the disdain he felt towards it. He was a paperboy and he was 25, for God’s sake, he should be done with college college (he’d dropped out last year and his mom’s friend offered him this job- there wasn’t anything else and he was honestly too lazy to find something different so he just accepted) and getting his life together, but instead he was throwing paper into rich people’s yards like he was 13. The people were annoying, the sun was hot, and, honestly, he just wanted to go home and play video games instead of waking up at the asscrack of dawn to deliver cheap newspapers to people who don’t even read them. The only decent part of it all was this one girl who always seemed to wake up just as early as he did. She’d wait on the steps for him with an extra £20 and a ridiculous smile on her face. Her name was Y/N, as she’d told him the first time he’d delivered papers to that neighborhood. She was outside laying in the grass and he went up to her to make sure he wasn’t delivering to a dead girl. She was fine, though- just weird.

Her eyes had snapped open as soon as he came within a few feet of her, excitedly dashing to her feet to greet him with her outstretched hand. Adorning her fingers were rings made out of diamonds and gold, glimmering in the rising sunlight. Those rings led to perfectly manicured nails that were just long enough to get his attention. On her body was a silky blue robe that ended mid-thigh, tied loosely around her waist. She introduced herself, taking the time to pull out way more money than he deserved… right out of her bra. It seemed to be a set that went along with her robe, lacy and delicate, and Y/N apparently didn’t care that he saw it at all. In fact, it seemed like she wanted him to. That was when Harry knew he’d have to deliver to that neighborhood again. Honestly, she was a pest most of the time but it was nice to have the company when all he ever really heard was the chirping of birds and water fountains.

Every single morning she had on a different robe, the same length and the same style, and, Harry assumed, the same type of lingerie. It irked him, a lot, actually. He knew she was rich- it was fine, whatever, but the fact that she knew she was going to be around him every morning and still wore something like that made him think she was doing it on purpose. Harry thought he was a pretty decent looking guy, especially compared to what other 225-year-old college dropouts probably looked like, but there was no way she was that into him. Harry concluded that she was most likely insane because she woke up so early and had a crush on a paperboy who probably made what he made in a month in an entire year (plus, she somehow knew he had a thing for lingerie sets… witchcraft was another theory).

Don’t get him wrong, he was a feminist and believed that women should be able to do whatever they want, wear whatever they want, and be whoever they wanted to be, but it was just too much sometimes. Branching off of the witchcraft theory, it seemed like Y/N was always on his mind. Whether it be when he’s shopping for groceries and sees her favorite fruit or when he’s laying in bed with his hand on his cock. The image of her smooth, silky legs gracefully moving in time with his own was enough to get him worked up, but his mind always managed to drift back to the gorgeous blue, lacy bra he’d seen the first day he met her. It was imprinted into his mind like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He could describe the way her breasts curved out of them to someone before he could tell them his middle name. He thought about her a freaky amount, in his opinion (once again, he’d like to argue that it was witchcraft), and every time he was with her, he found himself wanting more. More of her soft skin, more of her gentle voice, preferably in a bed without a bag full of newspapers.

Today the robe was a baby pink color, slippers with a fuzzy little ball on top adorning her feet that never seemed to be dirty despite her always running around in the grass. She was sitting criss-cross on the ground with her dog, not noticing Harry yet. He began to walk closer, thinking she’d look up at him, but all she did was spread her legs in an attempt to get away from Doodle, her Jack Russell Terrier, who was nipping at her cute slippers. Here’s the thing, Harry was a gentleman. He swore he was. His mother had raised him to be, but holy shit, he wasn’t blind. Underneath her silk robe lied a place that he’d definitely thought of multiple times within the past few months, a place that he didn’t ever expect to actually see, though. Apparently, the lingerie set included slitless panties that showed off almost everything he ever could have dreamt of. He didn't even know where you could get that kind of shit, probably on some crazy expensive website that only women like Y/N knew about.

“Harry!” she gasped. His head snapped up, leaving a crick in it. He was fucking sure she’d noticed him staring, expecting her to yell at him and to never come back to this side of town ever again or she’d sue him for all he was worth (which probably wouldn’t be too difficult) but all he got was her familiar gleaming smile. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in years!” she got up, looping her arm with his, purposefully feeling his muscles with her other hand.

“It’s only been a day,” he said quietly. His mind was still reeling over the thought of her wearing slitless panties. Slitless! As if he didn’t have enough trouble with the robes and the bra and the legs, now he knew that she was wearing underwear that didn’t even cover her all the way, probably every single day that he’s known her! He felt like he was invading her privacy, obviously she hadn’t meant to flash him like that… right?

“Still! I have so much to tell you about! I had to fire this girl at work because she messed up a shipment and you know how much I hate firing people, it’s the worst. All of the paperwork and the crying, but my assistant said I couldn’t make her fire people anymore, so, of course, I had to fire her, too,” she rambled. He didn’t really know what she did, but he knew that she made a lot, especially considering that she was his age, she was probably some sort of CEO after taking over the family business. She was very smart, he knew that, and apparently fired people a lot.

“But anyways, what’s been up with you? Did you ever apply at that one place?” she asked, referring to McDonald's. Harry would be annoyed with her if he didn’t know that she wasn’t coming from a malicious or mocking place. She was just so sweet to him, treating him like he wasn’t some boy who delivered newspapers to her mansion, just like they were both average people. But, realistically, she didn’t even know what McDonald's was and things like that diminished his hope of ever being more than… whatever they were.

“No, but I think I might go back to school. I still want to write songs or something like that, just have to get my degree and I might be able to,” he spoke, throwing another newspaper to the next yard.

“Oh, that’s great!” she gasped. “You know, you could work as my assistant in the meantime if you wanted to. I obviously need a new one and I trust you not to fuck up anything.”

“I- that’s a lot to ask of you, Y/N, I’m not sure I’d be a great fit for… what is it you do? Sorry, it’s never really come up before,” he asked, slowly unraveling their arms in order to get a better angle on tossing the next paper. His eyes drifted to her legs when she kicked a stray stone back into the person’s front lawn, the femininity of how her foot curved made him want to run his mouth up her legs, kissing until he reached the pretty, glossy sight that he stumbled upon earlier that day.

“Oh, woah, you’re totally right, sorry I spaced that,” she laughed. Harry mumbled an “it’s fine” and cleared his throat.

“Have you ever heard of a company called ‘Ravish’?” she asked. He shook his head, trying to jog his memory for any type of companies that could be called that. A shoe company? Maybe something like Amazon?

“Well… I could show you, if you like,” she offered, wrapping her hands around his bicep again and pulling him to a stop. His eyes followed her tongue, peeking out and running across her bottom lip, painting it with a light, wet sheen. He could feel himself plumping up even more in his boring, and, in his opinion, disgustingly ugly trousers. Getting on her toes so she could lean into his ear, she whispered, “I promise it’ll be worth your while, Harry.” Breath caught in his throat, he nodded apprehensively.

Y/N’s house was bigger than anything he’d ever seen, probably more than 20x bigger than the space he and Mitch lived in. There was a beautiful marble staircase that was surrounded by plants and vases that he tried his hardest to steer clear of in order to avoid breaking them. That staircase led to a large master bedroom that had a four-post bed with curtains around the sides, giving it an elegant, almost royal feel.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are we in here?” he asked, avoiding thoughts of her bent over the silk sheets. She ignored him.

“What do you like to listen to?” she asked, walking over to a record player. It seemed to be the only technology in the room, actually, and it made Harry feel kind of fuzzy-headed. She was honestly his dream girl and he had no idea what made her want to invite a paperboy into her home.

“Whatever you do,” he mumbled, wanting to see if that was true. Y/N hummed, picking up a vinyl that was sitting next to the record player, one that didn’t look to be in spotless condition like the others in what seemed like a vast collection. It was something he’d never heard before, which was surprising, but he liked it.

“Now, I need you to tell me something, okay? And be honest,” she said, gesturing for Harry to sit on her bed. “Are you interested in me?” He sputtered, unsure of what was going to be happening while he was there with her and felt his ears getting red.

“I-I mean, yeah, I think, but I get it if you d-” he said, shakily.

“Harry,” she spoke, sternly. He looked up. “Tell me honestly, are you interested in me?”

“Yes, I’m interested in you,” he said. Y/N smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Okay, I’m interested in you, too,” she said. He broke out into a grin.

“Oh, thank God, I thought you were going to kill me or something,” he joked. She hummed, a knowing smile on her face.

“Well, you never know,” she said. Harry was about to make a quip back at her but quickly shut his mouth, watching her slide her robe off of her shoulders. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, sitting nicely in the cups of her bra, confirming all his suspicions of it being a matching set. Her left leg slid in between his, resting nicely against his growing bulge. She lifted one of her perfectly manicured hands and ran it across his jaw, slowly sliding it into his messy hair. Her other leg went over his own so she was straddling his thigh, Harry’s hands grasping her hips to make sure the moment was actually happening, hoping it would keep her there if it wasn’t.

“You’re so good for me, Harry,” she whispered. She expected him to lean into her hand or moan, something like that, but all she got was a suddenly dark look in his eyes. The next thing she knew, she was being pinned to her own bed, both of her wrists fitting into his hand. Her chest was heaving, her pussy throbbing at how his broad body completely covered her own and made her feel smaller than she actually was.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not how this is going to work, Y/N,” he growled. “I’ve been good for the past three months, now it’s your turn.” She moaned, mouth agape slightly at his unusual but very anticipated show of dominance. He took the chance to place his lips on hers. The kiss was wet and sloppy but so nice and neither of them could really believe it was happening. He was surrounded with the soft scent of her skin and the silk sheets against his hand, deciding that he wanted to feel a different kind of silk. Without her really expecting it, his hand drifted to her slit, already coated in her arousal. They simultaneously groaned against each other’s lips at how wet and ready she was for him. He rubbed her clit lightly, not enough to provide the stimulation she wanted but enough to make her crave more.

The air in the room was quickly becoming heated, the rock ballad that Harry didn’t know but was really beginning to like playing in the background. Harry pulled away from her, ignoring her fingers making grabby motions and the pout that adorned her lips. It was crazy to him how fast she could switch between being an absolute sex kitten to being this goofy, childlike girl. He liked it, a lot. He brought his hard cock out of his trousers, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it somewhere across the room. He did the same with his underwear and her bra, placing himself at her entrance but making no move to actually enter.

“Do you have any condoms, love?” he asked, pinching her nipple over her pretty bra until she arched into his hand with fervor. He placed himself between her legs again, lifting one of them so it was bent, her foot against the bed and her knee towards the air.

“I’m on birth control, please, just hurry up,” she said, exasperated at his teasing and just wanting to feel him. He laughed through his nose a little, deciding to drag it on even longer because of how bratty he thought she was being. Throbbing waves of pleasure entered them both when Harry glided his tip over her clit, painting it with his precum and letting her try and buck her hips. Hair was sprawled across the bed, Y/N’s eyes blown with lust, lips swollen from his bruising kiss. He thought she looked angelic, ironically.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. Is that what you want? You want me to stuff you full of my cock? Feel me inside of you for weeks, sweetheart?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, please, j-just put your cock in me,” she moaned. Signs of her desperation leaked from her pussy, Harry dipping his head into her slightly and rubbing back towards her clit, teasing her. He placed his hands on her lower lips, spreading them so she could feel him better.

“I don’t know if you deserve my cock, you’ve been a bad girl. I don’t think you’re sorry for teasing me like that…” he scolded. “”Every single day, you wear your naughty sets, pretending that you’re innocent. You make me go home hard and alone, imagining your pretty mouth wrapped around me. No, little girl, I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”

“I am!” she gasped. “I am sorry, please, I promise!” Her body writhed against the expensive silk sheets and Harry made a note to himself that he should buy silk sheets.

“No, you’re not, but you will be,” he said. He slammed into her, jerking the headboard into the wall, setting a ruthless pace that he’d been waiting to give her for far too long. Y/N’s jaw went slack, letting his movements bring shocks across her body and light it on fire with his eyes. Her underwear was absolutely drenched in her arousal, any semblance of cleaning it shot out the window almost as soon as he agreed to come over. A groan flew from his mouth at the sound his thrusts were making, his thumb rubbing her clit harshly.

“Listen to how messy you are, baby, just for me, huh?” he huffed.

“Yes! Yes, just for you, please!” she yelped, trying to grasp onto anything to hold back. He felt so big inside of her, hitting deep and not allowing her to form a coherent thought.

“Please, what?” he asked, thrusting even more intensely.

“Please let me cum!” she shouted, thrashing around on the bed and holding onto his neck to gain some kind of resistance against her orgasm.

“Hmm, already? Are you sure you’ve earned that? I don’t know, I think seeing you hold it back would make me believe you’re finally a good girl,” he spoke, flicking her clit even harder to see if she could actually do it.

“I-I can’t, please!” she sobbed. She tightened around his cock, causing him to hiss and continue rubbing her clit out of spite.

“Just a little longer, sweetheart, then you can cum all over my cock, yeah? Drench me in your sweet juices even more, let me feel how much you mean it,” he breathed, his own orgasm just around the corner. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she clenched her teeth, legs twitching around his nimble hips when he pinched her clit.

“Okay, cum, baby, cum on my cock, milk me for all I’ve got,” he moaned. Earth-shattering waves crashed over her, all she could feel and all that she wanted to feel was Harry against her, the sugary sweet feeling of ecstasy dripping over her. It felt like Y/N was burning up and in a bath full of ice at the same time and she craved for more of it. His own orgasm pulsed through him, the wet stickiness painted her walls and caused an even smoother glide of his cock, breathless gasps exchanged through yet another bruising kiss. Harry was still thrusting, prolonging her orgasm longer than she’d experienced with anyone else, hitting all of her sensitive spots. Her teeth felt fuzzy from how hard she’d been clenching them and there was no way she wasn’t falling in love with this man.

“Fuck, yes, baby, just like that, so good, so good for me, letting me fill you up,” he groaned, causing the final and hardest wave to hit her. One of her arms fell from his neck to feel his biceps straining to hold himself above her body while still thrusting fairly intensely.

“I love your arms,” she mumbled, dazed and fucked out. He laughed, lying down beside her and letting her squeeze him.

“Really? Couldn’t tell,” he mumbled, completely relaxed.

“Yeah? Me constantly touching them didn’t give it away?” she joked.

“Not at all. I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asked gently.

“No, it was really, really good,” she giggled, tracing his tattoos, familiarizing herself with them. They were quiet for a while until Harry realized something.

“Hey, you never told me what you do. Was that just a ploy to get me to come over?” he teased, poking her side.

“No! Well, maybe,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I own my own lingerie company. It’s called Ravish and I was hoping that if I wore it long enough you’d Google it. Plus, I wanted to turn you on enough to make a move on me or something.” It was silent for a moment again, Y/N growing anxious that he wouldn’t like her anymore because she owned a company basically designed for sex.

“Well, you’ve clearly learned nothing from a few minutes ago. Guess we have to try again until you do,” he said. She perked up quickly.

“I guess we do.”

hiii omg omg it’s been a year since i wrote my first story on here!! it’s also been a year since harry performed medicine live for the first time! i just wrote this as a lil anniversary thing bc i wanted to say thank you for reading the stuff on my account! i love writing (esp about harry) and seeing positive feedback from people is always so comforting and nice. so, once again, thank you if you've ever read anything i’ve written, if you’ve liked it, or even if you like me xxx

masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles preference

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muted-galaxies · 5 years

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vampire falls

Vampire falls chapter 1- this is our town and we run the show

Under her feet the staircase creaked, the feet belonged to Mabel Maria Pines,the once bubbly care free resident of gravity falls oregon, known by everyone in town. That was of course a different time in the towns history, before the vampires made themselves know, before everything changed. Gideon Gleeful, of all people, was the ruler of the vampires. Mabel sighed in expiration, she was main bait for Gideon, he wanted her, her everything and it made her absolutely sick to her stomach to think about.

Mabel pov

I am part of what I like to call 'the resistance', It's mainly just me, Wendy, Grenda, Candy and Tambry because really? Thats all thats left of the town. We founded the resistance when Dipper went missing, just a month after the vampires came out of hiding. Honestly when the vampires took over, we all did have little budge on changing our ways to fit what they wanted of us. When Dipper was gone that morning , either taken to be blood cattle by the vampires or drained by one of them, I don't know and i choose not to think about it, the whole vampire take over became more real to me.

When the vampires took over, they took all the men and I don't know why i have a feeling about the time period of most of the higher up vampires, none of them were born before the 20th century meaning the concept of women having any rights is alien to them. To blend in the one rule we did agree to quickly was the dresses which we paired with choker to easily block vampire bites.

We had taken over the mystery shack as our base, we've lived here for the better part of two years now, it's a pretty convenient place actually, surrounded by magic forest full of mythical creatures that hate the vampires as much as we do. Oh and i can't forget the underground bunker where great uncle ford did most of his research about gravity falls' weirdness.

Getting to the bottom step i looked around and am greeted with a sight that had grown to be normal to me by now, wendy was sat around the table with an old, clearly loved but beaten, ipad.i took in a breath,let it out and I walked to her sitting down near her. She looked up at me, her green eyes had lost the colour they once held,her hair scruffier than when we first met, the vampires took such a toll on all of us

"good morning Mabel , sleep well" Wendy said her voice was scruffy and scratchy but i payed it little mind instead i nodded at her. Mornings could go better i guess but they could go a whole lot worse at that thought my hand found itself near my neck,near a bite mark sure its hidden by a choker but the memory of it will always be there to me.

I used to cry most nights,wanting my brother back by my side, some people just don't understand the bond we shared,he knew all my secrets and i knew his.He always had my back and i'm sure he would be for me right now in this situation,I think he'd stand by me ,would he be proud of me for standing up and taking on responsibilities?

"So do we have any plans for the vampires,then " i asked shaking my head to bring myself back to reality.I reached for an apple in the middle of the table and took a bite of it,savouring the taste in my mouth.Wendy shrugged at me before going back to her tablet, i guess she's stumped. It wasn't that i wanted to go out and kill but i will admit i get a bit of a ' thrill ' from it ,im going insane . stupid Gideon , stupid vampires .

Thinking back on everything i pick up on changes, drastic ones from the blissful preteen i was 2 years ago.The main thing that always seems to strike me,and others, is my looks im skinny yes but even describing me as that is too large , arms that are nothing more than skin and bones, a waist that used to be my proudest feature but weirdly enough a chest area that has stayed firm in place, reminding people of my femininity. Attached to my right leg, under my skirt is an old belt fashioned into a strap that can hold a knife for close up combat. As for the dress , i had no choice in the matter, gideon personally picked this dark purple harlot type dress. The one thing i do agree with of gideons clothing choice is the black laced gloves to cover my bruised hands.

I'm not special of course in the dress department, ALL females in gravity falls were given dresses against their will, all from different time periods, all with different connotations to the vampires. Gretta for example was given a formal, yellow coloured dress that honestly lasted 3 days before getting ripped and not repaired. Candy on the other hand had her dress picked out by amelie, one of gideons elusive sisters that appeared when he came out as a vampire, was a lolita style dress with alice in wonderland elements, i think it was the bow on top her head that made it feel that way to me. .

The two teenagers had identical black and white dresses that the middle class apparently wore in the victorian era, wendy has to stick to the dress as she leaves the shack with us regularly. Tambre gets to stay out of the dress and wear something more comfortable for her.

"We do have one plan i guess , we Strom the vampire castle and take back some of the boys that should help us on our attack ratio " Wendy said bringing me back to the whole situation right infront of me, i look at the ginger girl with a raised eyebrow before looking at the other two girls, they had the same look i did.

With confirmation from candy and gretta i turn back to wendy once again, putting my hand on the chair so i could properly lean forward at a slight angle.

"OK so the plan is we send candy and Gretta out first then we send out Mabel and Wendy , got it " tambre said speaking up from the other side of the table, she looked up from her laptop as we all nodded at her.

She produced a key, holding it up to show us all, the silver had clearly seen better days yet parts of it still managed to catch the light,she then pushed the key across the table over to me "trust me , I have friends on the inside,well one but who's counting " she looked over at Wendy who sighed in relief, i'd assume that's probably the first news she's heard about any of her friend's in a long while,the slight relief she felt however was quick to go replaced with the same stoic face she always wears.

With that i pushed the chair back into the table and turned to candy and gretta "well if that's our plan i say we do some training" i said, they looked at each other before looking back at me nodding, i nodded back and the two of them made their way towards what used to be the gift shop. I'm about to follow them when i feel a hand on my shoulder digging in slightly.

I turn around to see wendy clutching my shoulder giving me a worried look all of sudden "we need to act quick,gideon will be getting restless,he'll come for you mabel and you know it" i nod at her holding my hands close to my chest before stepping back,shrugging off her hand slightly

"Prepare for the worst" i say streching my arms out infront of me, lacing my fingers together "expect the worst"

Gideon POV

In the depths of the castle we had taken over in the first few days, was where i decided to sit grinding my teeth together,rubbing my fingers together. The silence is blissful though to me it cannot and never will be complete silence.

Still i sat in my study "mabel darling,you've outran me for too long,you'll be right beside me, just you wait" i said to myself before picking up my goblet of someones blood, the girl had struck one of my heart strings about 2 years ago when she was 12 now she had grown into a extremely beautiful 15 year old.I got a taste when we came back out of the shadows,that one drop has driven me crazy and I wanted to get her as mine and only mine for the rest of her life.

The sound of another person being drained came from the other end of the castle,it was peaceful to hear a humans poor scream as they hold onto the last bit of life they have , don't fight what's coming affter all this is our town now and we run the show, i put the goblet back down on the table,relaxed into my chair but then again one thing still troubled me, always in the back of my hand, where was dipper pines .

That boy was supposed to be the way i would get Mabel to give up her fight against us and be mine,bite that human, drain him infront of her in a helpless state and take her. I knew i'd have to find that boy if i were to ever taste her again, its only a matter of time, he cant hide from me.

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ronsenboobi · 6 years

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septembre 2018: pavane and sairsel, the now. 1,524 words. 🎧 shrike - hozier

As the adventurers left, Sairsel rose from his bench with plate in hand and returned with another steaming serving of stew. He laid a hand on Pavane’s shoulder under the guise of steadying himself as he sat back down, though it was more of an excuse to keep close at the sight of his concerned look. It was an unusual sight, but the time they’d spent together had been enough to understand that Pavane worried about much more than he let on. Sairsel was only of the lucky few who got to see it.

“Is that your third helping?” Pavane asked, glancing over at him as Sairsel picked up his spoon to shovel stew into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sairsel said through a mouthful. “Been flying for hours to get here. I’m starving.”

“You didn’t have to rush over.”

Sairsel shrugged and ate a few more bites before speaking up, tearing a chunk of bread as he did. “They’re going to be fine, you know. The kids. I’ve seen stupider Striders live longer than they should, and my nain thinks they show promise and she’s—”

“An Immortal. I know. They know it, too.”

“That’s what you meant when you said they might come looking for her,” Sairsel said. He paused for a moment, running a hand over the stubble at his jaw. “Well, they’re not going to be doing that in Vinean, so it’ll be a fortnight or three before they’re going to be bothering her about it. We can keep going during that time, can’t we? You and me, our business.”

“Yeah,” Pavane said distantly. “Yeah, we can keep going.”

Sairsel noticed, but said nothing. He could feel something simmering from within Pavane, something quiet and more vulnerable than he liked to admit; Sairsel knew there was no point in reaching for it before it came to the surface. Once he’d cleaned off his plate, he put his hand on Pavane’s shoulder again.

“You still have a room here?”

“I do.”

Sairsel nodded and pushed himself up off the bench with a weary groan, then leaned down close to his ear. “I’m going to rest up for an hour, then I’ll stay in bed a bit longer. Join me whenever you'd like.”

“I could use a nap, too. Long night.”

Pavane followed Sairsel out of the inn's common room, and when they were both within the relative intimacy of the staircase, Sairsel reached back blindly and found his hand.

They were less than an hour gone from Blackhart when Pavane stopped in the middle of the road, walked off the path with a few curt words about wanting a moment’s rest, and stood staring at the trees with his arms crossed over his chest until Sairsel came to stand near him. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since they had left, which made sense—Sairsel had seen how dulled those waking nightmares made him, the toll it took on both his body and mind. But this time, there was something heavy about the weariness that he hadn’t known in Pavane yet.

“Why are you here, Sairsel?” he asked at last.

“Why am I here?” Sairsel repeated, frowning. “Is your memory playing tricks? You’re the one who sent for me, saying we should meet up again.”

“I know what I did. Why did you come?”

Sairsel found himself at a loss for words—not because he had no answer, but because he did not know how to speak the one that came to him out loud. It could have been simple, no more than four words, but they stayed caught in his throat; somehow, telling him he missed him seemed like words in a foreign language he’d never learned to speak.

“Because you asked,” he said after a moment.

Pavane shook his head, dark and stormy. It was not an answer he could accept. “So much for your freedom. You’d think that after what happened you’d have the sense to get away and stay away and not come back just because I whistled for you like a pet.”

“Are you trying to insult me, or are you just that much of a prick?” Sairsel asked, taking a step back. He exhaled hard through his nose and shook his head, too, looking past Pavane at the line of the horizon. “No. That’s not it. You sent that message thinking I wouldn’t be coming back, did you? And I proved you wrong.”

“It’s not about me being right.”

“No. It’s about driving me away.”

Sairsel didn’t know why he was angry, but he could feel it rising from within him, burning in his lungs and driving his words out of him. His voice and tongue were sharp and quick in ways he hardly knew.

However Pavane felt, he wore it with a bitter smile. “You could barely look at me after it happened.”

“Yeah, because it was fucking weird, Pavane! If I’d had a mirror, I wouldn’t have wanted to look at myself, either,” Sairsel said, raising both arms before dropping them by his sides. He took a step forward again, closer to Pavane, who stayed rooted to the ground but seemed to want to move away. “I stayed behind because I needed to think about all of it, aye, but it gave me a clear head. I thought about you. About us. And I came back because I wanted to.”

Pavane shook his head quietly and wouldn’t meet his gaze. Say something, Sairsel thought desperately, say fucking anything so that I know it isn’t just me. But he said nothing. Sairsel let out a sharp exhale, frustration pushing at the words that wouldn’t come. If he was already lost, then what was the point of holding back?

“I came back because I care about you, but you just can’t fathom that, can you? Because everything is temporary or disposable to you, isn’t it? I was just an entertaining fuck, some exotic wild thing to warm your bed because it’s different to have someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on.” Sairsel shook his head again, running a hand over the lower half of his face as he put a hand on his hip and angled his body away. “Gods, I’m a fucking fool.”

It was strange, to know a shame of this sort. Sairsel had let himself be ashamed of much in his life, but never this, never men; and it wasn't Pavane being a man that made him so. It was that he'd lost his grip on himself so thoroughly that Pavane could hurt him.

When Pavane made to speak, a gust of wind rose, as though to wrap itself around Sairsel protectively, like the shadows that made Pavane strong but threatened to swallow him whole. So he waited, let it quiet down to a rustle in the trees, and when he did speak his voice was small and quiet.

“If you’re a fool,” he said gently, moving towards Sairsel the same way he spoke, “then so am I, and an utter arse to boot.”

Sairsel glanced over his shoulder at him, all too aware of how strange it was to see and hear him so restrained, so diminished. Pavane touched his shoulder and waited until he had turned around to face him again, the other hand hovering near his jaw, before cupping his face and leaning in to kiss him. When Sairsel didn’t kiss back, he began to pull away; Sairsel grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him back in. They kissed softly, gently, and the breeze fluttered in the leaves around them with the same sort of unhurried reverence.

“What does that mean?” Sairsel asked against his lips.

“What?”

It was hard to stay away from Pavane; Sairsel kissed him again. “I’m going to need you to clarify that. If I have to worry about what you meant, where we stand, I’ll—”

“I meant that I don’t want you to be temporary or disposable in my life,” Pavane said honestly. “But I should be keeping you away, and it makes me be a prick that I can’t bring myself to.”

Sairsel managed to laugh; against the heaviness that lingered inside him, there was something that fluttered upwards, something he couldn’t quiet. “Why try? You said it yourself: I’m a wild thing. I’m going to do as I damn well please.”

“Of course,” Pavane said, finding himself smiling as well. “What a fool was I to think I had a say in whether or not to keep you around.”

“I think you’re going to be stuck with me awhile.” Sairsel gave Pavane’s chest a small shove and kissed him once more, smiling against his lips when he kept him close and lengthened it. “We’re in this together, Viper.”

For the first time, he had a purpose that wasn’t running away or keeping himself away. It felt like the ground was falling away from under his feet, but he was not falling with it. It felt the way he did when his body took the shape of a bird and he beat his wings and soared up into the sky, and instinct alone guided him north.

#mawd does a write #sairsel bloggin #pavane bloggin #mawd tries to dm

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alcfrtsccc · 7 years

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Our dearest Luci♥, Yas and I would like to wish you a really HAPPY BIRTHDAY with this little gift! You are an amazing person and we are so lucky we got to know you. We love you and we hope you have the best day ever!

A Slytherin, a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor walk into a bar…

This is how at least half of the jokes about Narcissa Black, Holly Garcia and Peter Pettigrew’s friendship starts. The Unlikely Trinity. The friendship that nobody understands, yet it survives the years, the house differences, the fights, everything, only to become stronger with each passing day. The friendship of the smart, narcissistic girl, the edgy boy who can barely stop bickering with each other, but they would protect their innocent, weird-haired friend who is too good for this world in their eyes. The Golden Trio, as so many call them by their last year in Hogwarts.

In first year, they had to be the first years who screwed up with the moving staircases, missed Transfiguration (infuriating McGonagall in the process), and find a three-headed, dangerous, blood-thirsty dog behind a locked door. Why did Cissa ever have to open that door, Peter will never understand. (And let’s not even talk about the fact that they wanted and actually convinced to go back to it later on. But that is a completely different story.) For one second when the door closed behind them, all three thought they were safe. And then they hear its breathing, probably louder than their own thoughts, and it’s hard to say what happens first after they turn around. Narcissa starts screaming, “How dare they put this thing, this monster here to endanger us all?! What are they thinking?”, while Peter says, “Nope, I am out of here,” and actually turns around and practically bursts out of the door. And then there is Holly, who think it is adorable and actually moves to pet him before Narcissa actually takes a breath in between her outrageous yelling and sees what her friend is trying to do and grabbed her to stop it. Peter is already halfway through the corridor by the time the two girls get out of there – just in time before the creature gets out of its shock and starts attacking them.

In second year, a lot of things happen and Peter is not sure he could list all of them because before they left for school, he found his parent’s stash and he figured he would try it. He kept trying it through the year because shit got real a lot. The year started with Holly and him crashing a flying car into a fucking living three that tried to kill them because Holly wanted to pet a bird that was flying near them. How she would be able to save the world, he will never know. Then there is that incident with the broken arm that Professor Gilderoy fucks up even more by making Holly’s bones disappear completely and the girl actually wants to keep it like that. Because it’s cute and fun and nobody has it like this. Narcissa’s diary gets stolen and when it’s found, she curses whoever has taken them and surprisingly none of them have to wait for that to happen. The chick who did it – who would ever be interested in Narcissa’s personal thoughts, nobody will be able to explain to Peter -, gets taken into the Chamber of Secrets and you can’t see one second of regret on Narcissa’s face. She shrugs it off, says the girl deserved it and then picks up her wand, ready to fuck shit up, because “if she doesn’t fix this, who will?” In the end, Peter is extremely happy that he never got to actually meet the big beast of the Chamber, but from what he gathered from his friends, Narcissa told off Voldemort about proper Pureblood behavior and Holly laughed in his face, told him he was dramatic and explained to him how to keep his pet in good conditions. And these are his friends. They will be the death of him one day.

In third year, Narcissa is outraged for at least half of it. She wants nothing more than to keep their friend, Holly, safe, sometimes even from herself, but of course dumb Peter Pettigrew, who never thinks longer ahead than the next smoke can’t see that for whatever reason and instead of standing by her side and agreeing with her, he is fighting her every chance he gets. But at least she got to see him being forced onto a hippogriff that actually took off with him while he was silently screaming (at least from the angle, that is what Narcissa saw). It was truly a treat to see. And then Holly gets completely worked up about her godfather, because he couldn’t be that bad, people easily make mistakes and judge people wrongly, and Cissa is just baffled by her friend’s naivety, and then even more baffled when it turns out that Holly was right and that the guy was actually innocent of all charges. The dude probably couldn’t have even hurt a kitten. But despite all the random and weird and dumb things (most of them happen because of Peter, seriously, can her friend just get it together already?) that happen, it still ends up being a really good year for Narcissa. She saves a hippogriff, she figures out that their teacher is a werewolf while nobody else can and she is called the brightest witch of her age. Finally, somebody noticing and complimenting her the way she should be.

In fourth year, Holly is having the time of her life. Sure, the circumstances of her becoming the fourth champion is weird, she did not put her name into the Goblet, but she has been chosen, so why shouldn’t she enjoy it, right? She gets to meet and brighten the life of the broodiest guy on the entire planet (who would have thought somebody could Pete in that, huh?), a really nice girl who always has some knights in shining armor to save her even though she doesn’t need them to and she becomes buddies with a seventh year Hufflepuff, who is the coolest of them all, in all honesty. If Peter wouldn’t be brooding and avoiding her, and Narcissa wouldn’t keep reminding her that this is serious, that she should sue the school for putting her through such distress and that they shouldn’t even dare look at her after this outrageous thing that they allowed to happen, everything would be dandy. Also, that big fight between her and Peter, because Cissa came to the ball with James Potter, was ridiculous, if you ask Holly. But what can you do, jealousy is real nasty. But, Holly gets to pet a dragon a couple of times, swims with the merfolk and that labyrinth absolutely makes up for the fact that there was no quidditch all year. And no, she will not even think about everything that that meanie did after the labyrinth. He was mean and rude and Holly is pissed at him.

In fifth year, Peter isn't really sure how, but they start a rebellion. It's not a really big one, he will grant it to you, especially not compared to all the shit they pulled and went through in the previous years, but it's still a rebellion. And this time, for once, Peter is all down for everything they are doing. Which is, admittedly, a new feeling and a completely new experience, but that idiotic professor only gets what she deserves. And aside from the obvious, there are other good things that come out of it as well - for one thing, people finally start seeing Holly more than just a cute little naive girl, and instead they start seeing her as a bubbly, always happy, fun girl who has actually done what people whisper about and who shows great leadership qualities. Both Narcissa and him have seen all of this before, obviously, but they agree that it's nice to see their friend finally getting some proper recognition - another good thing that came out of all of this. Narcissa and him finally agreeing on something for once in his entire life. Sure, they still got their fighting and their bickering - honestly, why can't Narcissa see how big of a player Potter is and why is she still pining over him secretly, Peter will never know -, but mostly it's a chill and cool year. Except for Holly acting all weird sometimes. And the dreams she's been having. And the fact that the dickhead who tried to kill his friend repeatedly is now back and probably will keep trying to kill his friend. And that Dumbledore gets dethroned (which is the biggest shock to Peter, seriously, that old man is no more than just an old man). And that whole shitshow at the Ministry with the thestrals and the creepy rooms and the veil and as much as Peter was all down for the little rebellion of theirs, he did not sign up for all of this, thank you very much, and now that he thinks about it, it really wasn't a fun and chill year at all. Fuck, he needs a smoke.

In the sixth year, Narcissa is baffled by her friends and their weird way of looking at things and handling things and at this point she has wondered several times, even though it would absolutely not be ladylike and it would be something she has explicitly learned not to do, if she should just hex some sense into her friends. There’s Holly, who looks at the memories she and Dumbledore are visiting as good, interesting stories with a touch of mystery in them instead of what they are, and that is an insight into a psychopath’s mind, whom she would have to most likely defeat in the future. Probably sooner rather than later. And then there is that stupid old potions book that she treats as if it’s her new best friend who constantly talks to her but she can’t talk back. And instead of Peter taking her side and trying to tell Holly that the book is a bad idea and they should get rid of it, he is enabling the entire situation, wishing it would have been him who found it. The only difference is that now they don’t fight about their difference of opinion, because when one rises, Peter stands up and leaves for a smoke, probably too afraid to hear the truth from Cissa. And speaking of Peter, he still picks a fight whenever Narcissa mentions James’ name and Cissa is absolutely and utterly confused, because she thought he and Peter were friends or something, but apparently not? And then he gets a girlfriend, and Narcissa honestly have no idea if he is making it up or not because she has never heard about the girl and when Holly points her out to her, she has a problem remembering if she ever saw her either. (She actually has to admit that they are sort of cute together after seeing them together in the hospital wing when Peter gets poisoned, however, but then she is shocked at how her friend has ever managed to get himself such a girl.) And just when they finally feel like this has been a good year, a year they spent in relative safety and they didn’t have to risk their lives, Hogwarts gets attacked. From the inside. How dumb some of these professors are that they literally can’t see the looming threat that is right there in front of their eyes? Cissa believes they should first take a look at their own lives and their own mind and then and only then sign up for teaching and protecting kids because all of them are doing a horrible job at that. She and Peter (who after like the first minute has disappeared somewhere and Narcissa spent the entire night worrying about him) and some other DA members did a better job at keeping everyone safe than the teachers did and as stupid as Holly’s idea about not coming back to school sounded at first, it sounds better and better with every single passing second.

In the seventh year, Holly loves her two best friends more than she ever did. Ok, sure, not everything is ok - they got to run from one place to another, they are sleeping in a tent that looks bigger on the inside than on the outside (there is a Doctor Who joke in there, as one of Holly’s other friends tells her after all of this is over), they are tired and cold and hungry and angry and confused and even more things, but it’s impossible to list all of it -, but her two best friends risked their lives and decided to come along with her to this incredibly dangerous mission and what shows friendship and love better than this. And then, like always, things turn to poop. Peter gets frustrated and leaves and then the two girls don’t hear from him for months, they are attacked by a snake that disguises itself as an old lady (if you don’t think that is cool, you never seen cool in your life! aside from the getting attacked and the broken wand, of course), they break into one of the most protected place in Britain out of which they let a dragon lose (dragon petting and riding time, woo!), they are caught but they manage to get away (this happens more than once, this is basically their life during this year), they break into the school they were normally supposed to spend their entire year in the beginning, and the list could go on and on, but these are the ones that stand out for Holly as most memorable. And when it comes down to it, when Holly realizes that the only way she could save her friends and everyone else with it, she doesn’t even think about it. She does it without hesitation and with a little fear if she has to be completely honest. And to her luck, it all turns out good in the end. They kill the big bad (and she does it with kindness and love, something Holly has kept saying she would, so take that everyone, she was right!), most people survive (ok, a lot of them die, but Holly looks at the positive side: if they wouldn’t have stopped Mr V, even more would have died rather soon), and everyone lives happily ever after. (And apparently Peter has never been in love with Narcissa as Holly assumed he was, he was simply acting like the grumpiest, most over-protective big brother to the sister he never had, which is a lot better, because Narcissa clearly didn’t reciprocate the feelings and she would have hated to see her friends in such icky situation over each other.)

#;;au #Yas made these amazing graphics #and i did the writing part #and once again just #HAPPY BIRTHDAY #WE LOVE YOU #YOU ARE AMAZING AND WONDERFUL AND SUCH A GREAT FRIEND #AND WE REALLY HOPE YOU WILL LIKE THIS #wxrmtxl #metamorphmagarcia #princissa

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horcruxces · 7 years

Text

Ballet

here’s a 10k fic i wrote with draco as a ballet dancer and also draco with flowers on his dark mark // credit to certain parts at the end

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Straightening his posture, he relaxed his muscles as much as he could at the same time as staying tall and upright. “Thank god for the Room of Requirement,” he thought, glad he had somewhere to be alone.

His left hand gripped the bar loosely while his other arm was curved out in front of him, fingers perfectly placed and barely curved inwards. Long, lean legs were pressed together, his feet pointed out in a wide angle. An impeccable first position.

Wandlessly and silently, he cast a charm on a magical record player (it played any music you needed) to start new music, and the sound of a piano filled the room. Adagio Sostenuto, Sergey Rachmaninov. Draco let the music flow through his body, taking his limbs with it. He danced around the room, drifting gracefully on his feet.

He knew he needed new ballet shoes. They were getting worn down with all the dancing Draco had been doing to get away from his problems. His mother always told him he couldn’t dance away from issues, but it seemed like it was working at the moment. He had always responded with, “I can try.”

The blond haired boy continued flying around the room, a series of pirouettes, tours en l’air, balançoires, and cabrioles. He danced until the song ended, never opening his eyes. Draco found it worked better like that, he could fully immerse himself in ballet without any distractions. As the room became quiet, Draco assumed a finishing pose and slowly opened his eyes.

He was facing the entryway, and as his eyes focused on the arched doorway in front of him, he heard a soft click, like a closing door. He ignored it, guessing it was just a random old castle noise.

The tall boy padded over to the one chair in the room, catching himself walking toe to heel before he sat down. He frowned. It had been happening frequently, probably because of the increased amount of dance he was pushing into his schedule. At this point, it was well past midnight, and Draco had been dancing for hours. The only reason he was upset about these new habits (both the late nights and the new way of walking) was that it might give hints about his secret. The thing was, no one knew Draco danced, let alone loved doing so, not even Blaise nor Pansy. He doubted his father, who had died in the war, had even known, seeing as he had never paid any attention to Draco’s pastimes while he was alive.

Draco sat down and took off his ballet shoes, setting them in his bag. He pulled a pair of pants and a dark grey jumper over his t-shirt and tights, and slipped on his everyday shoes. Walking out of the Room of Requirement, he quickly checked the hallways to see if anyone was coming. As soon as he deemed them clear, Draco slipped out and hurried back to the eighth year dorms, his legs burning slightly from the brisk pace. It had been the second time that day in which he had snuck out to the Room, and now it was Friday and he had been to the Room a total of twelve times that week.

Draco finally got to the dorms, which were (inconveniently, for him) placed at the other end of the castle. He slipped in just as another figure was, one with black hair. Harry Potter. Although Draco had abandoned his past animosity for the Gryffindor, he avoided him and the two weren’t exactly on friendly terms. Draco held back from entering the common room for a second, letting Harry go in first. The other boy didn’t notice Draco as he walked in.

As Draco quietly entered the common room, he heard the seemingly ever-present yelling and cheering escalate as the Golden Boy walked in, although it seemed louder tonight than usual. The other eighth years must have thrown a party, and with it being so late, Merlin knew how many people were drunk in this room. Not counting the ones upstairs doing ungodly things with each other.

He began to make his way upstairs to bed, legs already tired and practically screaming at the thought of having to climb up the winding staircase. Draco had gotten halfway across the room until a drunken figure approached him and basically fell onto him. “Most likely Blaise or Pansy,” he thought, prying the arms from around his waist and neck. “God, how many…” he groaned. There were more than two arms around him, so it was probably both of his friends who had come to drag him onto the makeshift dance floor. Once he got all the arms off, he started making his way back to the stairs.

“Draco! How about you come back here and have a drink, love?” Pansy exclaimed, grabbing his arm.

Draco looked back. Her lipstick had been rubbed off (he thought he could see a hint of dark crimson smudged on Hermione Granger’s cheek, who was on the outskirts of the mass dancing), and her shirt had been loosened from it’s tucked state it had previously been in.

“Sorry Pans, I’m really not up for it tonight,” Draco said, trying to pull away.

“Come on, Malfoy, loosen up,” he heard Blaise say, who was coming around behind Pansy. Draco thought momentarily about warning her that the dark skinned boy was behind her, but then decided against it, because it would ultimately turn out in his favour if he refrained from notifying her of that information.

Blaise came up behind Pansy and slipped one arm around her waist, resting the other dangerously close to the underside of her breast. The italian began to grind against her and moved the hand up to cup her chest, but was quickly met with Pansy whirling around and slapping him, saying, “Don’t touch me, you fucker!”

Draco chuckled and shook his head. “Something is wrong with them, I swear,” he thought to himself. He knew for a fact that Pansy would wake up in Blaise’s bed tomorrow morning (but no matter what Blaise claimed and how much he would protest, he would never be able to convince Pansy that they did things the night before in that very bed when they most certainly didn’t. “I like my coffee how I like my men, Blaise, and I abhor coffee. I prefer tea,” Pansy would say. Blaise would probably respond by telling her something along the lines about how tea is the opposite of coffee; to that, Pansy would reply with “My point exactly, you arse.”).

He headed up to his room, dragging his exhausted legs up step after step. When he finally reached his room, he collapsed on the bed, only bothering to take his shoes off. He fell asleep practically as soon as his head hit the pillow, and didn’t have to worry about his sleep being interrupted by a roommate due to the odd number of boys who returned for an additional year. So, Draco slept, his head filled with the music of a record player.

As Draco packed up his ballet things after another session of dancing, and started to pull on a sweater, someone in the room sneezed. Draco froze with the sweater halfway on, his arms in the air and the sweater covering his face. Coming back to his senses, he hastily pulled on the sweater and picked up his wand. “Hello?” he called out. A rustle came from by the door, but no one showed. Draco huffed. “I know you’re there,” he said.

Something moved, and then, much to Draco’s surprise, Harry Potter emerged from the shadows. He looked guilty, not enjoying getting caught. “Potter? What are you doing here? How long have you been there?” Draco said, getting worried. The other boy must have seen him dancing.

“I didn’t know you could dance. Well, I knew you could dance, like waltzing and stuff, but I didn’t know you could dance like…” Harry trailed off.

“Like what?” Draco asked sharply.

“Like that,” Harry said simply.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I go around announcing that I do ballet, now do I?” Draco pointed out, getting frustrated.

“Please don’t be mad, I only wanted to see where you were going, and then you got on those weird shoes and I wondered what they were for, so I stayed. I never knew you were going to dance and I’m sorry I invaded you space, but I just couldn’t leave. You looked so calm and graceful and honestly beautiful, Draco, and-”

“Potter, you’re rambling,” Draco said, smirking at the faint blush that dusted the raven haired boy’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Uhm, can you…” he paused.

“Can I what?” Draco prompted.

“Can you call me Harry? I don’t think our last names are fitting anymore, let alone necessary. It just might be easier, but it’s okay if you don’t want to do that. I can-”

“Harry, you’re rambling again.” Draco let a small smile slip past the corners of his lips before he could help it; Harry was amusing, and frankly, a little cute when he got flustered and started talking too much.

“Oh. I didn’t realize,” Harry said, and the blush that hadn’t gone away got deeper.

“It’s fine. And catching me doing… ballet… that’s okay too. But it’s late now, and I haven’t eaten all day,” Draco said, pulling on his shoes. The sky was dark outside of the tall windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how the windows got there and how he could see outside though, he was pretty sure the room wasn’t on an edge of the castle. “I love magic,” he thought to himself.

“Can I come with you? I haven’t eaten at all today either,” Harry said, looking a bit sheepish.

“All day? Does that mean… you followed me here at six in the morning and have been here with me all bloody day?! It’s almost ten at night!” Draco exclaimed.

“That would be correct,” Harry stated. “Can we go now? I’m really hungry.”

“Fine. Kitchens?” Draco asked, heading towards the door.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Harry said, following him. They made their way out and towards the kitchen, stomachs rumbling.

Draco sat in the back of the library, finishing up a potions essay. He always saved his favorite (and easiest) for last. As he finished up the last paragraph, someone sat down across from him, waiting for Draco to acknowledge their presence. Draco glanced up, seeing wire framed emerald eyes. “Yes?” he asked, turning back to his parchment.

“When is the next time you are going to dance?” Harry asked.

“Shh! Me dancing is not your secret to tell, Potter. And why? I danced this morning,” Draco said, frowning.

“I want to watch you again,” Harry stated bluntly.

“And why would you want to do that, Potter?” Draco said slowly, not lifting his eyes to meet the other boy’s.

“Because I liked watching you last time. And what did I say about last names?” Harry huffed.

“I’m not that entertaining, Harry.”

“You are to me. I liked watching you do ballet, Draco. You seem happy when you dance; calm,” the younger boy said.

“That’s because I am. I’m alone and enjoying what I’m doing,” Draco retorted. Essay finished, he rolled it up and put it in his bag.

“I know you like being alone. But I just want to watch again,” Harry pushed, and Draco knew the other boy wasn’t going to give in.

“I’ll dance tonight. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late, or I’ll lock you out,” Draco muttered quietly, getting up and starting to walk out of the library.

“Draco?” Harry called after him.

“What, Potter?” Draco replied, exasperated. He looked back. Harry didn’t correct him.

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, thank me later,” Draco called back as he walked out of the library fighting a smile.

Draco paced the floor of the Room of Requirement, clock ticking closer to nine every second. Part of him hoped Harry would be late and he’d lock the door and wouldn’t have to dance for him, but another part wanted so badly to dance for Harry, because he knew it would make the other boy happy.

Two minutes to nine, Harry rushed through the door. “Sorry, Hermione wanted me to finish that bloody potions essay and I don’t understand anything that goes on in potions.”

“You could’ve asked me about potions, you know. At least you’re not late,” Draco replied from his new spot on the floor, stretching.

“You’d help me with potions?” Harry asked, surprised and excited.

“Sure, whatever,” Draco said. He got up and put on a new pair of pointe shoes. He knew boys usually didn’t do pointe, but he had tried it years ago and had fallen in love with it. The tall boy carried his wand over to the middle of the floor and spelled the music to start. This time it was Swan Lake, by Tchaikovsky. Draco found he liked muggle composers the most, so most days he ended up dancing to music most wizards had never heard.

He assumed his position in the middle of the room, arms up and on the tips of his shoes. Draco loved dancing to Swan Lake, and he had danced to it so many times he had memorised the music. Since the notes were ingrained in his head, he could usually dance to it without choreography he had already set up. He let the music take control, and the tall boy was off, twirling and leaping around the room. He heard Harry's breath catch when he started to fall gracefully, catching himself just a second before he hit the ground. All part of the dance. The lean boy kept going until the music came to a stop, ending with his hands down and one foot behind the other. Draco slowly opened his eyes when he heard the other boy in the room clapping softly. He gave a small smile to Harry, and then promptly fell to the floor to relieve his aching feet. Harry jumped up and quickly rushed over to Draco. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “What? Oh, yeah. My feet are tired. All this dancing takes it’s toll,” Draco responded, sprawling out on the floor. “Do you need me to carry you back to the dorms?” Harry teased, leaning over him. “That would be bloody fantastic,” Draco sighed, putting an arm over his eyes. A second after, he felt an arm under his knees and another under his own arm and around his back, then he was being lifted into the air. His eyes flew open. “What the fuck?” he started. “You said you wanted to be carried,” Harry said simply. He tilted his head to Draco's ballet bag and it started floating behind them. “I meant it at a joke, Potter. I never thought you would actually do it!” Draco protested. He made no move to get out of Harry’s arms, though. “Well, do you want me to put you down?” Harry said, walking out of the Room. “No.” Draco rested his head on Harry's chest and closed his eyes, already getting drowsy. Harry laughed, rubbing his thumb in circles on his shoulder as he carried Draco to the dorms. Draco wondered how Harry could carry him at the same time as rubbing his back. Bloody quidditch workouts. The black haired boy was as strong and as solid as a wall. Draco managed to drift off on the walk across the school, and woke up as he was being set down on something comfortable. A bed, maybe. His eyes opened briefly and saw the ceiling of his dorm room just as Harry was about to walk away. Draco caught his hand. “Mmm… thanks,” he murmured drowsily. “Yeah. No problem. Thanks for letting me watch you dance. I meant what I said, you know,” the green eyed boy answered. “‘Bout what?” His speech was still laden with sleep. “You being beautiful when you dance,” Harry stated softly. “Oh.” Draco blushed. He didn't know what else to say. He looked down, fiddling with the blanket Harry had tucked him into. He was still holding a tan hand. Harry gave him a small, happy smile. “Get some sleep, Draco.” “Harry,” Draco started.

“Yeah?”

He paused, looking down at their joined hands. “Never mind,” he said, dropping the smaller boy's hand. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. Maybe he just wanted to hear the other boy’s name coming from his mouth.

Harry gave him one last smile and brushed his thumb over Draco’s palm before walking out of the room.

Draco came out of the Room of Requirement a few days after Harry had first asked to watch him dance, pulling his long hair up into a loose, messy bun with a hair tie he kept in his bag. He knew his hair was getting too long and he needed to get it cut, but he hadn’t gotten the chance too. Maybe he would go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, since it was going to be Saturday.

Harry had been coming with Draco to watch him dance every day since the first, but he hadn’t been able to make it today. Something about talking to Granger, but he hadn’t really understood Harry’s mumbling. A part of Draco was disappointed Harry couldn’t come, because he knew deep down he liked dancing for the other boy, but Draco pushed it away.

As he walked down the hall, he say Harry coming the other way. “Hey, Draco…” he trailed off, staring at Draco’s face.

“Hi Harry. Care to tell me why you’re staring at me?” Draco answered.

Harry turned and started walking the way Draco was going, the same way he had come. “Um, it’s just… your hair. I like it up like that. A lot.” Harry blushed.

“What, in a bun? I need to cut it,” Draco said, glancing at the other boy.

“Yes, in a bun, but why would you cut it? It looks good,” Harry said, reaching up and twisting a loose strand around his finger.

“Maybe to you. You need a haircut too, to tame that mess you call hair. And I don’t want to cut it all off, just the ends. To keep it healthy,” Draco said, liking the way it felt when Harry touched his hair.

“Oh. Well anyways, I was wondering… Do you want to go to Hogsmeade on tomorrow? With me?” Harry said, dropping his hand and shoving it in his pocket, looking at the stone floor.

“Saturday? I was going to go to Diagon Alley, actually, to get my hair cut. If you want, you can come too. After all, you need a haircut as well,” Draco said, tucking the strand of hair Harry had been messing with behind his ear.

“Oh. Diagon may sound better than Hogsmeade. Maybe I will come,” the shorter boy said, smiling up at him.

“Sounds good. We’ll leave around nine. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall?” Draco replied.

“Brilliant.” They had reached the common room, and the two boys went their separate ways; Harry to Weasley and Granger by the fire, and Draco to Blaise’s room where Pansy probably also was.

Walking into the dorm room (Pansy was there too, of course), Draco dropped his bag by the door and went over to sit on Blaise’s bed with Pansy, frowning slightly.

“Hi love. What are you sour about?” Pansy asked, glancing up from her book.

“Nothing. Where’s Theo?” Draco said, trying to change the subject. He didn’t really feel like talking about Harry at the moment and Theo was an easy subject change since Theo and Blaise were dorm mates.

“Probably snogging some girl,” Blaise said from his desk. He was drawing something, a hobby he had picked up after the war. It calmed him down and offered a distraction like Draco’s ballet, but Blaise’s talent wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew of it.

“Yes, yes. Now, are you going to spill about whatever has gotten you so worked up?” Pansy said, wringing her hands exasperatedly.

“I’m not worked up. It’s just Harry,” Draco replied, frowning even more when he realised his mistake of calling the other boy by his first name in front of his friends.

“Harry? Now he’s Harry. This means development in what, a friendship? More?” Pansy quirked an eyebrow, turning to face Draco. She had closed her book and set it on the table next to the bed, which meant she was genuinely interested and would ultimately pull some information out of Draco he hadn’t planned on disclosing.

Draco leaned back into the pile of pillows, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know. He invited me to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow, but I was already going to go to Diagon Alley for a haircut. So then, my stupid arse thought it would be a good idea to bloody invite him to come with me!” he said, small waves of anxiety rushing through him already.

“Oh love, what have you gotten yourself into?” Pansy said, rubbing circles on Draco’s back. It reminded him of how Harry did that only a few days ago.

“I don’t know, Pans! Help!” Draco exclaimed, falling dramatically onto his friend and laying his head in her lap.

“Nice hair, Draco,” Blaise commented from behind Pansy. Draco could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Fuck off, prick,” Draco said miserably.

“Well, maybe this little trip will be beneficial,” Pansy announced, getting back to the real issue at hand.

“How?!” Draco asked.

“Potter is in dire need of a haircut,” Pansy said, humor in her words.

“Pansy!” Draco whined. He knew that Pansy knew that he wanted to hear something specific, but Draco himself didn’t even know what he wanted to hear.

“Okay, sorry. Back to business. Do you have any feelings whatsoever for Boy Wonder?”

“Yes. Feelings of awkwardness and possible friendship,” Draco said stubbornly.

“Do you want help or not, you prat?” Pansy said, looking pointedly at Draco.

“Yes. And I don’t know. He’s bloody fit and all, and has a fucking hero complex and he’s overly nice. I mean, he bloody carried me across the castle in his arms because I was tired, and I liked it!. Fuck! Bloody hell, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Draco cried. “I bloody DO have feelings for the bloody Boy Who Lived!”

“Stop fucking cursing!” Pansy yelled over him.

“I can’t! And don’t be a hypocrite, Pans! How would you feel feel if you discovered you had feelings for…” Draco spluttered. “Granger!”

“I’d be bloody fine! She’s hot. We’ve already shagged.” Pansy said calmly.

Draco shot up from his position on her lap. “What?! I thought she was with Weasley! Is she even gay?!”

“Mate, even I knew about that,” Blaise said.

“Shut up, arsehole,” Draco snapped.

“About a week ago, and she’s pansexual, but that’s besides the point. Now that we’ve determined that you have romantic feelings for the Golden Boy, I want to know how these feelings developed.” Pansy sat back to wait for Draco to answer.

Draco froze. “Should I tell them about ballet?” he thought. Not yet, he decided. If Pansy pushed, though, he knew he’d end up telling his friends the secret he had kept for his whole life. “We’ve been… spending more time together,” he told her.

“What do you mean? What were you doing, Draco? Come on, love. You know I need more than that,” Pansy said.

This was it. He couldn’t lie to them, they could tell when he wasn’t telling the truth, or even telling a half truth. “I need to tell you guys something,” he began.

“Have you two already shagged and the trip to Diagon is just a cover to break the news?” Pansy said, eyes wide. “Oh my god, Draco.”

“No, no. I’ve just been… hiding something from everyone for…” Draco frowned in thought. “Fifteen years.” He waited.

“And?” Blaise said.

“What is it?” Pansy prompted.

Draco took a deep breath. “I’ve done ballet since I was a child, and I have never stopped doing it. That’s what I’ve been doing lately and why I’ve been gone. I go to the Room of Requirement to dance.”

“I knew it! There’s no way you could’ve stayed so thin and muscular all these years without it!” Pansy exclaimed.

“That’s gay. It fits you,” Blaise said mockingly.

“Hush, you prick. Just because dear Draco is gay does not mean it defines him,” Pansy retorted, slapping Blaise’s arm.

“Wow, thanks Pans. That seemed like it came from the heart. It was poetic,” Draco said sarcastically.

“I was defending myself there, too.” Pansy turned her nose up. “Besides, Zabini, you’re in no place to mock us of our lovely gay state. You’re only half gay.”

Blaise laughed. “Whatever, love.”

“You all are weird fuckers. I’m going to my room,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Goodnight.” He walked to the door after kissing Pansy’s cheek.

“You’re no less weird than we are, love.” Pansy replied. “I’m off too, Blaisie.” She kissed Blaise’s cheek and stood up, heading after Draco.

The two headed out of Blaise’s dorm, and Pansy walked to Draco’s room, stopping at the door. “You’ll be fine on your date with Potter. Tomorrow will be fun, love. Don’t worry,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“Thanks, Pans,” Draco kissed her cheek once more before pulling back and straightening.

“Of course. Now get some sleep,” she said, ushering him into his room.

As Pansy walked out to the girl’s dormitories, Draco closed the door and headed to his bathroom, turning the shower water on and stripping off his clothes. Staring in the mirror, he pulled his hair tie out and his hair fell down in a curtain around his face. The white blond haired boy shook his head, wondering what he was was getting into.

Draco stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over his skin. He didn’t know what he was getting into, that much was clear, but he had a feeling at least part of it would turn out for the best.

“PANSY!” Draco shrieked from inside his closet, desperately throwing clothes out and onto his floor. “GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE AND HELP ME!”

He knew his friend was in the common room, and soon he heard feet stomping up the stairs. Draco also knew that Pansy would not be happy with how he called her to his room.

“What the hell do you want?” Pansy said in greeting when she entered the dorm.

“I don’t know what to wear!” Draco exclaimed, continuing to rummage through his dresser.

“For your date with Potter? Black skinny jeans, light blue dress shirt, grey jumper, and… dragonhide boots. Anything else?” replied exasperatedly.

“Yes. Do you know where any of those are?” Draco asked, sitting on his bed.

Pansy pulled out her wand and summoned each of the clothing items. “Here you go. Don’t worry, love, everything will be fine.” She kissed his cheek and walked out.

“Pansy’s right. There’s nothing to be worried about, it’s just a haircut,” Draco thought. He pulled on his clothes and started walking to the Great Hall.

Harry was already sitting down when Draco got there, with Weasley and Granger. Noticing Draco, he told his friends something and then walked to the blond haired boy.

“Hi,” Harry said. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me grab something to eat,” Draco replied, walking up to the closest table and picking up a muffin and a grapefruit.

“Ugh, you like grapefruit?” Harry asked him, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Yes, Potter. None of that treacle tart you like,” Draco said, stuffing half of the small muffin in his mouth.

“That was quite refined,” Harry quipped, gesturing at his muffin-filled mouth.

Draco flipped him off. Swallowing his bite, he said, “Sorry. I made appointments and I cannot afford to miss them. You can’t either, with the state of your hair.”

“You made a haircut appointment for me too? You didn’t need to do that, you know. What place did you pick, the most expensive? I just go to a muggle place,” Harry replied, tugging on a lock of his hair.

“Yes, it’s expensive, but you’re the Chosen One. You deserve the best,” Draco said, smiling teasingly.

“Shut up. You of all people should know I hate all those names and attention, what with you stalking me half of the time in our first seven years.”

“Right, it was I was the stalker one. Now hurry up, or I’m leaving you here,” Draco retorted, holding out his arm for apparition. Harry took it, and the two of them disappeared in a swirl of colors.

“I told you your hair would look better,” Draco said triumphantly as the two boys walked out of the salon.

“It’s so short!” Harry complained.

“But you like it.” Harry sighed. “Yes, I do. Thanks.”

“Hmm. So, lunch? Where to?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could take you to a muggle place I know of,” Harry said, looking up at Draco uncertainly.

“Is it good?”

“I’d like to think so. A little fancy, but it’s not like we aren’t dressed nicely,” Harry said.

“Okay. Lead the way,” Draco announced.

Harry looked up at the blond boy, smiled, and disapparated.

Harry and Draco arrived back at Hogwarts late afternoon, an hour before dinner. “Thank you, Draco. Honestly. I had a really good time today,” Harry said, stopping in front of the portrait to the eighth year dorms.

“So did I. Maybe we could do this again?” Draco blushed, uncharacteristically nervous.

“I’d like that.” Harry gave him a small smile.

“Okay,” Draco said softly.

Harry gave him one last smile before climbing through the portrait hole. Once he was alone, Draco’s hands flew up to his face and ran through his hair, a huge smile on his face. He couldn’t go into the common room yet, he wouldn’t be able to stay still. So, he resorted to the only other option- dancing.

Draco laid down on the floor of the Room of Requirement, breathing hard. He had no idea what time it was; time tended to slip away when he was dancing. Casting a tempus spell, he groaned and knocked his head against the floor. 12:57. Draco felt dead, like he couldn’t move any of his limbs. He had been dancing for what, almost eight hours? It felt like it had been forever, even though he knew it wasn’t even close to his personal record. Sighing, he dragged himself up and slowly walked to the door. Checking once more to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything, he turned and walked back to the dorms.

When Draco got back to the common room, there was only one light on in the corner, illuminating a sleeping figure. Upon walking further into the room, he saw that the person was Harry, slumped in an armchair with a book draped across his chest. Draco felt heat rising to his cheeks when he noticed the black haired boy’s clothing state. Grey muggle joggers, pulled down to show the elastic band of his… Calvin Klein underwear. “Trust Harry to wear all muggle outfits,” Draco thought. The part that made him blush, though, was the fact that the sleeping boy wasn’t wearing a shirt. His tanned skin was on display for anyone to see, and even though he was slightly hunched over, Draco could see outlines of strong abdominal muscles. Fuck, but Harry was ripped.

Pushing those thoughts out, Draco laid a hand on Harry’s arm and gently squeezed to wake him up. Draco, once again distracted, stared at the contrast between Harry’s skin tone and his own.

“Hmm… what’re you doin’,” Harry sleepily murmured.

“Come on, it’s almost half one. Get up, Harry.” Draco tugged on the boy’s arm, snapping out of his trance.

“Ugh, nooo… Carry me, Draco,” Harry said, his eyes still closed.

“What? No, I can’t.”

“Tryyy,” Harry whined. “I’m too sleepy.”

Draco sighed and bent down, hooking an arm under Harry’s knees and the other under his arms, below his shoulder. Adjusting his grip, he lifted Harry up. Draco took one step before turning back to the chair and dropping the half-asleep boy. “You’re too heavy, Harry. I’m not strong enough to hold you up for even ten seconds,” he said.

“Nooo, Dracooo… then go work out and get some muscles,” Harry protested.

“Okay, I’ll work on that.” Draco chuckled. “Just… come on, Harry. Time for bed. I’ll help you to your room,” The tall boy said softly, holding his hand out.

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, pulling Draco’s arm to get up. Once he was standing, he leaned on Draco heavily, using the other boy to support a good portion of his weight.

The two of them slowly made their way to Harry’s room, Draco practically dragging a very sleepy Harry most of the way there.

Once the door was shut behind them, Draco led Harry over to his bed and had him lay down. “Goodnight, Harry. Sleep well,” Draco said quietly.

“Wait… stay, please? I… I have nightmares, and…” Harry trailed off.

Draco hesitated, only because he wanted to so badly. Wanted to hold Harry and protect him from anything bad, wanted to make him feel happy and protected and needed.

He finally pushed away his doubts and whispered, “Sure, Harry.” Draco went back to the emerald eyed boy’s bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress. Harry blindly grabbed his arm and pulled Draco down next to him. Draco gasped, but gave Harry a small smile and settled down. Harry snuggled into Draco’s chest, resting his head in the crook of Draco’s neck, his hands fisted under his chin and holding onto Draco’s shirt. Draco sighed softly and wrapped his arm around Harry’s body, pulling him close before drifting off to sleep.

Draco woke up to a buzzing sound on the bedside table. His wand, waking him up at six just like every morning. It was then when he noticed the body wrapped around him. “Right,” he remembered. “I’m in Harry’s bed.”

Draco gingerly untangled himself from the sleeping boy, careful not to wake him. Once he was out of the bed, he conjured some parchment and picked up a stray quill lying on the table.

Harry,

I hope you slept well and didn’t have any nightmares. I’m going to the Room of Requirement, but I need some alone time to figure some things out.

Draco

That was okay, right? He didn’t want to make the fact that he didn’t really want to be around Harry at the moment too harsh, seeing as he was the root of his confusion.

Oh well. There was no way to tell for sure, so Draco set the note under Harry’s wand on the bedside table and went to his room to get ready to dance.

Draco spent the next two hours dancing, pondering (mostly) his feelings for a certain black haired Gryffindor. He liked the boy, probably more than he should. Other than his feelings, he thought about how good and warm it had felt to hold said boy in his arms the previous night.

“Gods, he’s taking over my thoughts,” Draco said to himself. It was true; he had caught himself thinking about the other boy increasingly over the last few weeks. It was like his previous school years all over again, but this time, he was mildly obsessing over Harry for entirely different reasons.

He was brought out of his daze by his stomach giving a sharp jolt of pain, which happened when he was hungry due to not eating. Sighing, he wandlessly stopped the music and went over to get his things together.

Draco walked into the Great Hall about ten minutes into breakfast. Sitting down in his usual seat between Blaise and Pansy, he told them good morning before grabbing a grapefruit and muffin. He smiled at his choice of meal, thinking of Harry. Speaking of Harry…

When Draco looked up to glance at the green eyed boy sitting with Granger and Weasley at the Gryffindor table, he was met with Harry looking back at him worriedly. Draco frowned, wondering what was wrong, and Harry’s face dropped. Granger said something to him, gave the boy a tight hug, and then Draco watched Harry get up and practically run out of the Great Hall.

Draco had no idea what had happened, but when he glanced back at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was frowning back at him with an expression identical to what Harry’s had been seconds ago.

“Go,” mouthed Hermione, staring straight at Draco. “Go help him.”

Draco nodded and got up. “I need to go do something,” he told his friends.

“Might this ‘something’ have to do with your boyfriend running out of here a minute ago?” Pansy asked, an eyebrow raised.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Draco muttered, picking up his bag.

“Sure, love. Go take care of him,” Pansy said with a smirk.

“Yes, go love and protect your precious Potter,” Blaise teased.

“Fuck off, Zabini. Go snog Theo or Millie, or do whatever you do when you’re not in class,” Draco shot back with a small smile.

“I’m not gay! I would never shag Theo!” Blaise said incredulously.

“No, you’re not gay. You’re bi and everyone knows. And even if it’s not Theo, it’s some other boy,” Pansy said, patting Blaise’s arm.

“It is not!” Blaise protested, throwing his arms out.

“Whatever. I need to go,” Draco said, chuckling a little.

“Good luck, love,” Pansy called after him as he hurried out of the Great Hall.

Draco jogged to the eighth year dorms, throwing open the portrait and taking a quick glance around the common room before going over to the boy’s dorms. Stopping at Harry’s door, he knocked quietly. “Harry? Are you in there?” he asked.

The door opened slowly to reveal a frazzled Harry Potter, worrying his lower lip. “Why… why are you here? Aren’t you mad at me?” he asked.

Draco frowned. “I was- I’m not mad at you. Why would I be?”

“Your note… You said that you didn’t want to see me,” Harry said, also frowning.

“Damn. I was worried this would happen.” Draco cursed. “I think I worded it wrong. I just needed some time to think away from everyone. Not just you.”

“Oh. So we’re okay?” Harry asked, looking up at him.

“Of course,” Draco said with a smile.

Harry sighed in what seemed like relief. “Good, because I need some serious help with this potions essay,” he said, grabbing Draco’s wrist and pulling the taller boy into his room.

Draco ran as fast as he could to history of magic. He was late, so bloody late! He had missed breakfast because he had forgotten to set an alarm when he danced so he could know when to go to breakfast. Now, he was slipping into a classroom full of practically asleep students because he was so late! He never made mistakes like this, so what was so different about this morning?

He saw Harry waving him over to his desk, motioning for Draco to join him. He smiled gratefully and slipped onto the bench with Harry.

“Where were you? You missed breakfast,” Harry whispered.

“I forgot to set an alarm when I was dancing,” Draco replied, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Ah. Here,” Harry said, rummaging in his bag and coming up with a grapefruit and a muffin.

Draco smiled. “Mmm, thanks. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, bet you were,” Harry said, laughing. Then, he went back to… drawing, all over his left arm. The inside of his forearm was covered in little doodles, ranging from lily flowers to stag antlers to little snitches.

“You draw?” Draco asked, finishing the last of his grapefruit.

Harry’s head snapped towards him. “Erm, a bit. Just little things, not anything like what Zabini does. I want to get some things tattooed when I go into Diagon sometime,” he said, blushing a little bit.

“Wow, Harry. Those are… amazing. Small and simple, but they’re beautiful,” Draco said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, smiling in return.

Draco went back to messing with his quill until he felt something cool and ticklish on the back of his left hand. Looking over, he saw that it was Harry, and Harry was drawing. On his skin. Draco’s eyes went wide, and he whispered harshly, “What are you doing?!”

Harry grinned up at him. “Wait a minute, I’m almost done,” he said.

“Ah… fine.” Draco replied, grimacing.

After a few minutes, Harry said, “Done,” and pulled his color thing away. Draco looked at his hand and was startled to see a silver dragon spread across his skin. Broad, elegant wings covered most of his hand, and the body had tiny scales covering it. The eyes, though, were a pop of bright emerald green, standing out against the silver and the white of his skin.

“Merlin, Harry… that…” Draco breathed out.

“Like?” Harry said, biting his lower lip.

Draco looked at Harry. Stared at him, for a second. “The green of the dragon’s eyes is almost identical to the color of Harry’s,” he thought to himself. “Love. I love it, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry’s blush deepened. “You’re welcome. I like drawing on you. I mean, I like it more than drawing on myself, because you skin is so pale, and everything shows up so well, and it’s so soft, and… well, y’know. I just like it,” he said, rambling.

“Thank you,” Draco said again. He looked down at the dragon again, running a finger along the spiked tail. “What are these?”

“The markers? They’re called sharpies,” Harry answered.

“I like them,” Draco stated. “Do you know how long it’ll stay on?”

“Oh, it’ll probably come off if you take a shower or wash your hands a few times. A day, at most,” Harry told him.

Draco frowned. “Damn,” he said.

“Too long? You could probably spell it off,” Harry said.

“What? No! I want it on for longer,” the blond boy said. “I meant it when I said I love it, Harry.”

“Oh. There’s actually a spell or whatever… I made it. It makes the drawing last a week,” Harry said, blushing once again.

“Do it.” Draco held his hand out, and felt a searing pain wash over the dorsal side of his hand. It was over quickly, but he still hissed and rubbed it after. “You didn’t tell me it would hurt!” he whispered harshly to Harry.

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. “I didn’t want you to expect it because expecting it kind of makes it worse.”

“It’s fine. Thank you,” Draco murmured, running a delicate finger over the dragon again.

“Yeah, no problem,” Harry said.

Draco spent the rest of the lesson studying his dragon.

The next week, life went normally. Nothing big happened, and Draco was thankful for the quiet week. Two days after his dragon wore off, Thursday, Draco sat next to Harry in history of magic with a goal to achieve. Ten minutes into class, when the professor was droning on and the vast majority of the class was asleep, Draco nudged Harry and asked, “Did you bring your… sharpies?”

Harry’s face immediately brightened. “Yeah,” he said, and ducked down to dig in his bag.

Draco took a deep breath. It was going to be fine, Harry wouldn’t mind. After all, if he did, he probably wouldn’t be friends with Draco.

“Want your dragon again?” Harry said, bringing Draco out of his thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. But, in a different place, I think. And… I want something else, too,” Draco answered nervously.

“Okay. I’ll do the dragon first. Same colors?”

“Yeah, inside of my right forearm at the top.” Draco rolled up his sleeve.

“Under your elbow? Cool,” Harry said, getting the correct colors out of his pack of markers.

Draco set his arm up on the table, and brought out his book to read while Harry was working. He didn’t really pay attention to the words, though. He was focused on the feeling of the cool tip of the sharpie against his skin.

It wasn’t long until Harry was done, and Draco felt the spell sear through his skin. He hissed, but when he looked over, the dragon, being even better than the previous one, was worth every single bit of pain.

“It looks even better this time,” Draco commented.

“Yeah, I agree. So, you wanted another?” Harry said, looking up at him.

“Two more, actually. Second… pointe shoes on the outside of my wrist,” Draco said, holding up his right arm again. “But no color. Just the outline.”

Harry bit his lip, then grabbed a quill and did a quick sketch on a stray piece of parchment. “Like this, Draco?” he asked, turning the parchment towards the blond.

“Exactly,” Draco said, smiling.

“Okay,” Harry said, getting a skinny black sharpie out. He sat to work on the small design, not taking long. He was done after a few minutes, saying, “Done,” and releasing Draco’s wrist.

“Perfect. This is exactly what I was envisioning, Harry,” Draco praised.

“Thank you again,” Harry said, blushing. “Now, the third one?” he prompted.

Draco bit his lip and looked down at his lap. “Good thing we’re in the back of the classroom, I have a quick escape if this goes badly,” he thought.

Looking up, he gathered up some courage and took a deep breath. “I want you to draw flowers over my Dark Mark.”

Draco waited for Harry’s response, biting his lip again. “What if he doesn’t take it well? What if he absolutely hates me for asking to do this, and then never talks to me again? What if-” his thoughts were cut off by Harry’s voice.

“Really?” he heard.

Draco’s head snapped up to look at him. “Um, yeah. I mean, you don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to-” he stopped as soon as he felt Harry’s arms around him.

“Of course I’ll do it,” Harry said, voice muffled in Draco’s neck.

“You will?” Draco breathed in a quiet voice.

“I’d love to.” Harry pulled back, his eyes bright.

“Oh Merlin, I thought you’d say no,” Draco said.

“Of course not,” Harry said. “Now, the important part. What kind of flowers do you want?”

Draco had thought about this. He wanted flowers that meant something. So, he pulled out the list he had made the night before.

Narcissus and pink carnation - for Mum

White chrysanthemum - loyal love, for friends

Gardenia and blue roses - secret love and desire for the unattainable

Statice - remembrance and success, for Harry

Yellow roses - friendship

Green roses - wishes for a prosperous new life, for starting over. For anyone in the war

One black rose - death and farewell, mourning for the war

“Wow, you really did research on this,” Harry said.

“Yeah. I charmed it so if you tap the name of the flower with a revealing spell, it’ll show a picture of the flower,” Draco said. He wanted to get this perfect.

“Okay. Do you want it covering your Mark completely, or around it and between the lines?” Harry asked.

“I can’t have it covered completely… I need a reminder that I’ll see every day of my bad choices, so I won’t do anything like that ever again,” Draco said softly.

Harry gave him a small smile. “I’m proud of you, Draco. You know that, right? You’ve become an amazing person; you’ve grown so much,” Harry said quietly.

“Thank you, Harry. You don’t know how much that means to me.” Draco looked up at him with a smile.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco once more, squeezing him tight. Draco help back, basking in the moment.

Draco pulled away, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Harry. Do it.” he said.

Draco was softly shaken awake from his light sleep he had fallen into while Harry was drawing. “Draco, I’m done. Want to see it?” he heard Harry ask.

“Yes…” he said, blinking awake. He was nervous to look, for some reason. But, when he did look, he felt a tear sliding down his face. Wiping it away, he looked up at Harry. “Thank you so much, Harry. I love it more than I can say.” Draco pulled Harry to his chest, never wanting to let go.

Harry.

Harry, who, even after fighting a personal war for seven years until everyone knew what it was like, didn’t bat an eye at the very mark of his old enemy.

Harry, who was nicer and more compassionate and loving than anybody Draco knew.

Harry, who went as far a befriending Draco, when Draco himself knew that he had done nothing worthy of Harry’s time and devotion.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Draco heard Harry whisper. “I’m proud of you Draco. I mean it.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Draco murmured back. “Thank you so much.”

Draco stood outside a shop in Diagon Alley, trying to bring himself to walk in and tell the people what he wanted. He stood for many more minutes, even though he knew this is what he wanted most.

When he finally walked in, everything went smoothly. He told an employee what he wanted, and hours later, he was done.

Draco Malfoy walked out of that shop in Diagon Alley with three new tattoos.

When Draco got back to Hogwarts, it was already dinner. He skipped dinner, though, opting for what he needed. Dance.

He danced for hours, well into the night. He danced harder than he ever had before, throwing himself completely into the pirouettes and arabesques. Draco couldn’t think of a time he had put so much emotion into dance. It wasn’t like all those feelings had suddenly appeared.

No, they hadn’t just appeared. They had been growing inside him for a while. All this love, pride, adoration. Guilt. He knew how he had gotten through his days with all these emotions manifesting inside him, too. Harry. It had always been Harry, and now wasn’t any different.

Draco finally fell to the floor, exhausted. He laid there for a while, before dissolving into laughter. Not just small chuckles, but bouts of laughter that Draco had always thought of as addictive. Everyone joined in once someone started laughing like that.

He was howling with laughter after a few minutes, and it felt good. No, good wasn’t the right word… it felt amazing. Letting go of everything… “I should do this more often,” Draco thought.

He finally pulled himself together, unable to keep a wide grin off his face. Draco summoned his dance bag and wand, and walked out of the Room of Requirement. How was it that something so simple made everything so much better?

Draco got back to his dorm at nearly half three in the morning. He flopped into bed carelessly, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Exactly a week after Draco went to Diagon Alley, he was standing in front of Harry’s door about to knock when Harry himself opened the door and almost ran into Draco.

“Draco, hi! I was just going to come and find you!” Harry said, grinning widely.

“Oh, yeah. Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Diagon with me. I’m going to the quidditch shop,” Draco said. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he rubbed his fingers nervously.

“Funny. I was going to ask if you wanted to go to George’s shop. So in that case, yes, I’ll come with you. I want a new practice snitch anyway,” Harry said brightly.

“Good. Um, leave now?” Draco asked, some of his nerves going away.

“Sure,” Harry replied. The two of them started walking to the courtyard, where a good portion of the student body was getting ready to leave, whether it was to Diagon Alley or to Hogsmeade. Harry and Draco wove through the mass of people, finally getting out of the crowd. “Ready?” Harry asked, holding his arm out for apparition.

“Yep,” Draco replied. He grasped Harry’s arm, and they disappeared with a zip.

They landed in Diagon a second later, and Draco had to catch Harry before he toppled over. This didn’t work, because Harry ended up pulling Draco down with him. They started laughing, Draco draped across Harry. Draco pulled himself off of the other boy, smiling in adoration when they calmed town. Harry looked over at him, and their eyes met.

Harry broke the eye contact, smiling and biting his lip shyly, looking down at his lap. Draco’s smile widened at the blush, and he stood up, offering a hand to help Harry. Harry took it and grinned, not letting go. “Let’s go!” he said happily, pulling Draco into the store.

Draco allowed himself to be dragged into the store, watching Harry let go of his hand and be immediately drawn to the rack of newly released brooms.

Draco went over to the section of jerseys, looking through them before picking a few out. He walked over to pay, but was pulled away from the register when Harry shrieked, “Draco!”

He hurried over to Harry, worried that something was wrong. “What? Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, look! What have they done?” Harry said, his voice high.

Draco looked at what harry was pointing to. “A Harry Potter figurine playing quidditch,” he said, laughing. “Oh yes, what have they done?”

“Who would want that?” Harry asked him. “It doesn’t even look like me!”

“I have no idea,” Draco said, picking up one of the figurines. “Why anyone wouldn’t want one of these,” he finished. He shot a grin to Harry over his shoulder as he walked to the register.

“You’re getting one?!” Harry shrieked. “Draco!”

Draco chuckled as he put mini Harry on the table and paid for everything, including Harry’s forgotten practice snitch. “Let’s go, Harry,” he called over to the boy who was, once again, looking at the brooms. Draco walked out, Harry trailing behind him.

“Whyyyy,” Harry whined, hooking an arm around Draco’s bent elbow. “You’re gonna tease me about that forever now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry dear. I just picked up some jerseys, that’s all,” Draco said, feigning ignorance and innocence. He looked over at Harry and smiled down at him. Harry groaned let his head fall against Draco’s shoulder and they walked. Draco laughed and slipped his arm out of Harry’s grasp so he could intertwine their fingers. Harry blushed and squeezed the grey eyed boy’s hand.

They walked around Diagon Alley for the rest of the day, talking and laughing together. They basked in each other’s presence for hours, just being happy together.

When it started getting dark, they found a muggle park with a lake to watch the sun set. Draco sat under a tree, leaning against the trunk, while Harry laid down on the grass and curled up with his head on Draco’s thigh. Draco slowly threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair, enjoying the moment. He set an alarm to alert them when they needed to be back at Hogwarts, and drifted off, one hand holding Harry’s and the other in his hair.

A few days after Harry and Draco’s second trip to Diagon, they sat in the library together, studying. The two boys had been spending almost all of their time together, and neither of them had a problem with that.

Draco was finishing an essay when Harry said, “Have you been dancing?”

Draco startled. Harry’s question had come out of nowhere, but Draco could understand why he had asked. “A little. Not as much as I’d like to be. Why?” he replied.

“I wanna watch you again,” Harry stated bluntly.

“We could go now, if you want. I’m done with my essay,” Draco suggested, putting the essay into his bag.

“Really? Let’s go, then,” Harry said, grinning widely. He stuffed his parchments into his own bag and stood up.

Draco chuckled. “Okay. We have to go by the dorms, though, for my stuff,” he said.

“Alright,” Harry responded. He started walking out, looking back to make sure Draco was coming with him.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming too. No need to check,” Draco said, laughing.

Harry blushed. “I know,” he said when Draco caught up with him. The two walked out of the library and stopped at the eighth year dorms before going to the Room of Requirement.

As Draco was putting his ballet shoes on, Harry asked, “How do you even do all your dance things? Like, how do you learn all of the moves and remember them?”

Draco looked up, surprised at his question. “I started young, and I took a ton of lessons before Hogwarts. Then, when I got to Hogwarts, I went home as often as I could to take more lessons. I also never stopped practicing,” he said. Then, he got an idea. “Want me to teach you some stuff?”

Harry burst out laughing. “Really? I’m the clumsiest person ever.”

“Well, even if you totally stink, it’d be loads of fun. Come on, I’ll show you the positions first,” Draco said persuasively.

“Really?” Harry asked, standing up.

Draco grinned. “Yeah,” he said, holding his hand out.

They spent the next few hours laughing and falling and dancing. Harry was clumsy and wouldn’t ever want to take an actual lesson, but it was time well spent anyway. The thing Draco loved most about spending time with Harry was that they fit so well together. More than anyone would think, considering their history.

When Harry finally got too tired to go on, the two boys walked back to the dorms, making fun of Harry’s dancing the whole way. They got into the common room and immediately toppled onto the couch, Draco sprawled in a corner and Harry laying halfway on top of the taller boy.

It was in the library when the next big thing happened. Draco was reading, and Harry was drawing. It had been a week and a half after Draco had gotten the tattoos, so when he turned to doodle on Draco’s arm, he expected the dragon to be gone.

“Draco, did you put another charm on the drawings? To make them stay longer?” Harry asked, confused.

Draco turned and heat immediately flooded his face. “No, I didn’t. Why don’t you try and take the drawings off, Harry?” he said softly, looking into Harry’s green eyes.

“Erm, okay,” Harry said. He tried a cleaning charm first, and when that didn’t work, he tried others. Almost panicking, he looked up to Draco. “I- I can’t! They won’t come off, Draco. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry-”

Draco cut him off. “I didn’t want them off, Harry, so I went to Diagon…” he trailed off. Draco pulled up his left sleeve. “I wanted them to stay on forever.”

Harry took a sharp breath. “Draco… Did you…”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I tattooed your drawings.” Draco looked at Harry, trying to figure out what he was feeling, but was unable to.

Harry slowly looked up at him before something flashed in his eyes. Before Draco could say anything, Harry’s lips were on his.

Draco kissed him back. When he pulled away, he looked Harry straight in his eyes and whispered, “I love you, Harry. That’s why I did it.”

Harry gasped. “Oh my god, Draco,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to say-” Draco started.

“No, Draco. I do have to say it. I… I’ve loved you for a while,” Harry said, smiling. “I love you too, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco smiled back and kissed Harry again before he said, “Thank you for everything, Harry. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me.”

Harry kissed him back, thinking about how happy he was that he had watched Draco dance that first day.

fin

ballet part is inspired by @incorrect-drarry-quotes

flower/dark mark part is inspired by @dorthyanndrarry and @upthehillart ‘s draco portrait and @ppaddfoot

#drarry #my writing #draco malfoy #harry potter #one shot #magicaldrarry writes

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