#i watched a brush with oblivion last night and I love her
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"Too experimental" the critics said...
#darkwing duck#dwd#dwd91#splatter phoenix#my art#darkwing duck fanart#i watched a brush with oblivion last night and I love her
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pedri x reader angst based off of tv by billie eilish🤭
the heart wants what it wants (pt.2) ~ pedri
summary: yearning for a love that can possibly never be returned can be quite foolish, but pedri can’t seem to get her out of his head.
part 1 (y/ns pov)
the crowd was roaring with fierce happiness. it was almost deafening and pedri could barely hear his own heart beat over the screams of the culers and the cheers of his teammates in his ear as they all celebrated his goal, his first goal in quite a while.
hands were brushing his hair, gripping his shirt and arms were engulfing him, his teammates vocalising their pride in him for his winning goal. there was only a few minutes left of the match, no doubt in anyone’s mind that barcelona had won this one, all thanks to their star magician.
pedri cupped his hands over his eyes, facing one of the many cameras and doing his signature celebration. a genuine smile graced his lips, a smile he hadn’t had the strength to flash so widely in so long. after everything that had happened, this was the first moment where he felt that familiar sense of freedom, that same freedom he had last felt with her.
pedri dropped his hands and watched as his teammates walked back to their positions, ready to continue the few minutes that were left. he pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and looked up at the big screen at the front of the stadium. the cameras were still on him and his name was still flashing across the screen. his smile started to falter and he thought about her again.
what was she doing right now?
was she watching him on tv right now?
did she just see his goal? was she proud of him?
stop. stop thinking about her.
he gave a final wave to the fans and moved back into his position, his temporary happiness being barged with thoughts of her once again.
•••
it was late at night. it was cold and dark and pedri couldn’t sleep. she was there, in every corner of his mind, she was always there. when would she finally leave his mind? when will i finally get over her?
leave me alone.
the clock on his nightstand read 12:09, its dimmed light being the only source of brightness in the otherwise pitch black room. he could hear the trees outside of his house whooshing from the harshness of the wind and the cold was creeping into his bedroom. he pulled his duvet over his cold body and turned to the side, watching as the light of his clock glimmered and flickered.
12:10.
what was she doing right now? was she in bed, reading one of the million books she owned? was she fast asleep? what was she dreaming of?
pedris lips tipped up at the million questions that raided his mind all at once. he smiled at the thought of her, his heart flooding with heat. he remembered the way her hair splayed all over the place as she slept, he remembered the way he would chuckle at her small snores, he remembered loving the way she fisted his shirt in her sleep, wanting to be close to him.
her relaxed expression, her warmth, her scent, her tender skin, her soft lips that always tasted of her cherry flavoured lipgloss.
what he would give to feel those lips against his one last time. to hear her giggles as he repeatedly kissed her into oblivion.
he felt ridiculous, smiling about her in the middle of the night when he knew she probably didn’t even think of him. why would she even spare him a thought? it’s been almost a year.
did she have another man in her bed right now? was he whispering to her the same things he would at night? was his arm draped around her waist, taking in her heat the way he craved to every night?
his smile instantly dropped as she faded from his mind and the happiness, that was temporary yet again, vanished from his being. a shiver went down his spine and he suddenly felt cold as she left him all alone. he hugged his duvet tighter to his body.
how foolish he was. how stupid he was for letting her invade his mind again.
if only he knew, as he lay in bed and yearned for her warmth.
if only he knew that she stood infront of a bar somewhere in barcelona, her body freezing and her heart yearning for his warmth too.
•••
it felt like a sickness that kept coming back. memories, flashbacks, it was almost like pedri could feel her here. stupid. she wasn’t here.
he didn’t even know where she was right now. did she move away or did she still live in barcelona? was she still in her apartment close to the city’s edge where she had the best view of barcelona or did she buy one closer to the university?
he always used to drop her off and pick her up from uni. he was always on time, sometimes even earlier with a bouquet of flowers for her, sometimes ready for the gossip that she had to spill almost everyday, sometimes for the complaints she had about her school work.
who dropped her off to university now? did she pass her driving test? did she move on?
of course she’s moved on. it’s been a year, why wouldn’t she have moved on? it’s only me who can’t.
pedri shook his head at his foolish thoughts once again. the brightness of his phone blinded him as his vision cleared from yet another thought he was having of her. he realised that his thumb hovered over the send button, and he retracted it to see what he was about to send.
yet another ‘sorry, i can’t’ text. yet another ‘i’m busy’ text. with a sigh he sent it off, throwing his phone on the couch down next to him. his hand came up to rub against his tired eyes, clouded with fatigue and hidden agony.
it was painfully obvious that he was actually not busy, and ferran knew that as he also stared down at his phone, open on his chat with pedri. ferran was used to it by now though. he realised that the loss of last year was hitting his friend again, he realised that he just needed some space, needed some time to think before he was fine again.
so he gave him it.
he sent off a text of agreement with a heart emoji, indicating his understanding of his friends situation. ferran gave him his space and swiped off the chat, deciding to invite some of his other friends over to his house instead.
ferran: its okay hermano, take care ❤️
pedri read the message, swallowing the guilt that crawled up his throat at yet another cancel of plans. he rarely saw any of his friends nowadays, outside of trainings, outside of his work.
is this what love does to a person?
he told himself it’s nothing. he’s just going through a tough time. he’ll get over it.
you’re in love - a painful, mind-numbing type of love. you’re stuck in it.
this is what love does to a person. it makes them so unaware of their surroundings, makes them so weak and fragile until it decides to leave and they are left soulless.
pedri crossed his legs in his seat as he threw his head onto the back of the couch. a tired sigh escaped his lips once more and his eyes roamed the plain, white ceiling of his house, mind wandering off once again.
“you’re not understanding me, pedri!” her voice was slightly raising by the minute, her frustration surfacing.
“oh, please tell me what i don’t understand! enlighten me, y/n!”
“you’re never here anymore. i feel like it’s just me in this relationship and i don’t even know what to do about it! i feel so alone and you’re- not here with me.”
“i’m busy, y/n. you need to understand that.”
“i do! how much more do i need to understand to realise that you don’t care about me anymore pedri! i’m just a side object in your busy life. it’s not even recently, its been so long since we’ve actually had a meal together! so long since we actually had a conversation, since you properly kissed me. what, you don’t think i have feelings too?”
his lips pursed and he tilted his head, wanting to look away from her - the girl he loved so much to the point it made him blind and stupid. his eyes started welling up with tears of ache and frustration, but he didn’t let them spill, not like hers that were currently streaming down her cheeks at a slow speed.
“my parents called me the other day and asked about you, where you were. i didn’t even know what to fucking tell them, pedri.” she didn’t wipe them away, only stared at him in his eyes with nothing but hatred pooling in hers.
pedris eyes snapped open as the memory faded into the back of his mind again. the plain ceiling returned into vision, that was blurred this time and he leaned up to wipe his eyes. tears had formed in them, rising to the corner of his eyes and threatening to fall out from between his lashes.
if only he hadn’t walked out that day. if only he hadn’t ignored her and her pleas. if only he hadn’t acted so ignorant and idiotic.
they had argued and he had walked out. he never returned, never made an effort to talk to her for the weeks that followed their argument. the pride overtook his love for her, it blinded him so much to the point he couldn’t handle it anymore.
it was weighing him down and after months of no contact with her, no sign of her, it was crawling up to him in the form of burning pain and hurt and heartache.
all she wanted was for him to be there with her, for her, and he couldn’t even do that. she just wanted to feel loved.
maybe i’m the problem.
he was in denial before. he paid no mind to what he had done, what he had inflicted upon the one he loved.
but he couldn’t even deny it anymore because it was entirely his fault.
everything. every single drop of torture and affliction that had fallen upon both of them had been the consequence of his mindless, selfish acts. she had to watch him leave. she watched him walk out of her life without realising that was the last time she would ever see him again.
all my fault. my fault. myfaultmyfaultmyfault.
the sob that ripped through his chest then was agonising. it was rattling in its cage, wanting to be let out but being restrained by the pride and carelessness. he hadn’t realised that the key to his heart was her. she held the key in her hand, held it within herself and she had just opened him up.
she made him weak, vulnerable.
pedri sat there on his couch, his house as silent and gloomy as his heart. the only sound that rang throughout the room was his cries, his pleas that he muffled into his mouth, the unheard apologies he was throwing out to no one in particular.
i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry.
all my fault.
i love you.
“you’re all mine.” he breathed into her mouth, planting another kiss onto her lips. “mi hermosa esposa.” (my beautiful wife)
y/n leaned back with a surprise yelp, brows raised at his sneaky expression. “your wife, huh?”
he pecked her once more. “of course, my future wife. i want to marry you some day.” pedri chuckled as his cheeks slightly warmed at the confession he just had.
she couldn’t hold back the smile that clung to her lips like a tattoo, cheeks burning with heat and love and the feeling of a dream come true. the happiness she felt with him would always be unmatched.
“i love you.”
“i love you so much more.”
but he wished she could hear them, hear how sorry he was for causing her so much heartache.
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wildfire
some starmora x reader nsfw headcanons
wc : 1.162
cw : nsfw content! triad poly relationship (fmf). dom!gamora, switch!peter, sub!reader. some sex position links bc i think they're fun. strap-on sex. anal. pda with butt slapping. masturbation.
an : watched gotg 3 and definitely not broken. new gamora is cool but im always gonna miss og gamora so expect more starmora stuff to come bc im bisexual and sad <3
so lets say you joined the guardians early, peter and gamora already have that spark between them and now you've arrived and thrown them for a loop.
while you and gamora are still mostly trying to deal with your romantic feelings, peter is being driven crazy by his sexual ones. he's not stupid enough to jeopardize the budding relationship he has with the both of you by sleeping around.
(not to say he didn't get tempted, there was this one chick with blue skin, big doe eyes and four arms and-)
still. he's not that stupid. but, he does have needs, so he jerks off. a lot. every time he does it he thinks about the both of you. the feel of gamora's skin when his hand brushed against it that morning, the smell of the new shampoo you pick up on the last planet. even just the memory of you two laughing at one of his shitty jokes is enough to make him finish.
not to say gamora doesn't get herself off as well. i don't think she would have that much sexual experience or at least not as much as peter does. just a brief hook-up occasionally to take the edge off. but when you complimented a new armored top she bought that complimented her arms and peter agreed with that stupidly charming yet sleazy smile of his, she couldn't help but lay in her bed that night and rub her puffy clit until she had to bite down on her hand as she came.
it wasn't long after that you all became official.
in the bedroom, gamora is a dom and peter is a switch. to her, there's something about quill commanding the team during missions and casual settings and being reduced to a man on his knees begging for you to touch him anywhere.
but don't for a second think you're off the hook. if you ever get too cocky when she's dominating peter, she won't hesitate to put you in your place. her favorite way to do it was sitting you on a cushion with a direct view of the bed, your hands bound behind your back with a vibrator stuffed inside you as you were left to whimper and beg as she rode peter into oblivion. she keeps eye contact with you while she has her hand around his threat, teasing you about how flustered you look.
gods help you when they're both in a dominating mood. it's mostly after they got roughed up after a mission or the person who hired you was more of an asshole than usual. on those days they don't hesitate to toss you around like a ragdoll and do with you as they please.
one time you were left behind to take care of the ship while they negotiated with the person who hired you, which must have gone wrong with the looks on their faces when they got back. before you know it you're pressed into an arch on your bed, gamora's hands pushing your mouth and tongue deeper inside of her pussy, as peter grabs your hips and helps you throw it back on his dick.
peter would love positions where he can make eye contact, loves the intimacy of it and loves to see the facial expressions you make. doing the counterblow or fireworks in the pilot's seat, a deck chair, or python in bed when your both craving contact. right before you both cum he'll pull away from sucking on your tits or neck to look you in your eyes, whispering "i love you"'s and "cum for me, cum all over me baby"'s as you both reach your highs.
gamora will take you in any position she can. not to say she doesn't love the intimacy occasionally as well. there have been more than a few times where she gently drags you to her room, places you on the bed, and eats you out agonizingly slow for over an hour before crawling on top of you and slotting herself over you, riding your cunt until neither of you can move from overstimulation. her faves would be 69, eagle, plain, and a full nelson if she's feeling pent up.
oh and gods help you when she gets her hands on a strap-on. she found it in a sex shop on a little excursion to a shady planet for rocket to find some rare materials for an invention. quill had seen it first, practically begging the two of you to go inside with him. while he and you were pointing at different beads and gadgets and giggling at the obscenity and absurdity, gamora is busy stalking along a back wall, looking at the different dildos and harnesses with piqued interest.
when she tells you that she booked a hotel room for the three of you for the night, you can't help but get a little giddy at the idea of another night of pleasure with the two of them without having to quiet yourself by biting or gagging. you don't expect gamora to come from the bathroom, a black harness around her hips with a long and thick dark red dildo attached to it. after she gets your consent and gets you prepped, your body is held up and squished between the two as peter thrusts into you from the front while gamora takes the back. you didn't leave the hotel room for two days.
they are very different in how much pda they like to show in public. gamora is more subtle, still wary to let others know how much you really mean to her, plus she likes to keep the romantic and sexual side of her life more private. she'll settle for soft smiles across the room, brushing her hand across yours when she walks by. if she's feeling devious she'll come up behind you while you're doing something under the guise of "helping you", when in reality she's pushing her entire body against yours and maybe throwing a small little thrust in there too. nine times out of ten it will leave you flushed beyond belief and she'll walk away satisfied.
peter is. a whore (affectionate). he is not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. hand holding, hugging, kissing, etc. you already know he's fond of slapping your ass, and will do it every opportunity he gets. if you do it back to him he will literally go like :0. definitely doesn't get a boner.
their aftercare is unparalleled. while you're coming down from your high, peter will rush to get a rag for you all to wash off the liquids and sweat, while gamora will whisper sweet gentle praises while making sure the both of you are hydrated. no matter how rough or quick the sex was. they will always end it with you cuddling in their arms as they whisper to you how much they care about you. <3
#marvel x reader#marvel#mcu#mcu x reader#guardians of the galaxy#gotg x reader#peter quill x gamora#peter quill#peter quill x reader#gamora#gamora x reader#peter x reader x gamora#starmora x reader#starmora#starmora x reader smut
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"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 7
Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.
Author's Notes: ya'll i am so sorry for what i'm about to put him through. this update is a bit shorter, but i needed a buffer between the events of the last chapter and what's to come. i initially planned to write this scene as an intro to a longer chapter, but it ran away from me in the process. i'll be packing and moving back to campus over the next few days, but i wanted to feed ya'll something in case i don't have as much writing time. see you at the next one, loves :)
When he dreams, he dreams of her. Always her. Every night a new memory is dredged up of yet another time he had been ignorant to her affections. Tonight he finds himself before a bonfire. They’re lounging against a fallen log surrounded with blankets and conjured cushions. The edge of the Black Lake tapers off beneath a few rickety piers and he can see the the glowing turrets of the castle lording over the water. Every so often another twinkle disappears as faculty members and students retire for the night. She assured him that Mrs. Bickle, the woman residing in the cottage a few feet away, wouldn’t tell their professors they had snuck out. Apparently she and Natty had saved her son at the beginning of term, and took down an entire poacher ring in the process. He’d shaken his head at her, teasing her for not inviting him, as a swell of pride bloomed in his chest. She was simply extraordinary.
Flames lick lazily at the night sky as he takes a swig from a bottle of firewhiskey and passes it to her. He remembers this. It was the end of fifth year and they’d decided to sneak out a few nights before the end of term. Ominis refused to join, but no matter. He had no qualms about giving her his undivided attention. She accepts the drink and, for a moment, his fumbling hand blankets hers. It’s warm, and soft, and much smaller than his, he observes. She cocks her head and winks before bringing the flask to her lips, still holding his hand to the cool metal. He watches shamelessly as she takes one pull, two, and then releases her grip. She shudders and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Sebastian quickly stuffs the stopper on the bottle and drops it onto the grass between them. She shivers as a breeze rustles the tree canopy behind them.
He doesn’t even think before pulling himself up from the log he was leaning against and wrapping his blanket around the both of them. He decides that it’s a task much easier accomplished without half a bottle of firewhiskey smothering your coordination. His Gryffindor is either unfazed or too comfortable to notice his graceless approach. Instead she curls her side of the blanket around herself and sighs contentedly as she lays her head in his lap. Sebastian remembers freezing, feeling drunk on a different feeling entirely. He recalls that feeling. His nerves were on fire and the honeyed delight made his limbs feel impossibly heavy. It was like drifting into a nap on sun-warmed grass when it felt like you could drift off into oblivion and be perfectly happy to stay there.
“Your hands are so small,” he croaks. She shifts so that she’s looking directly up at him. His hands move of their own volition and he watches his dream-self hold her head in his lap, brush stray hair from her face like something delicate, treasured. She cocks a brow at him, questioning, and - ah. You’re a proper fool, Sallow, he thinks. He’d been too busy gazing at the stars reflected in her eyes to read the questions in them. He’d never held her like this before. Now, he realizes, she looked hopeful, confused, and he’d missed it all. He remembers thinking that she must be confused about their hands. Maybe this was her first time noticing, too? No matter, he’d clear things up.
“Small, see?” he offered. He’d flattened their palms together and her fingertips stopped just an inch short of his own. He held them just in front of her face. It was imperative she understood how cute her delicate fingers looked pressed against his hand. Then she wiggled her hand in his grip, testing, and threaded their fingers together. She brought his captured hand to her chest and just cradled it. And now there was nothing obscuring his view of her. The apples of her cheeks were brushed red from liquor and firelight, and he remembers thinking that if he didn’t press a kiss to each side he might burst. Far too late he adds this to a steadily-growing list of hints that his heart hadn’t belonged to him for a while.
“He…um…,” she clears her throat. “Ominis said that he didn’t want to join us tonight because he ‘couldn’t bear another night of watching us bicker like an old married couple,’” she laughs. He’d laughed too, absentmindedly. Past-him was still trying to parse through that odd feeling she shot into his veins. Something shifted in the dream. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything was fine a moment before, and now it all felt slightly off. If he focussed on anything too long it started to blur and shift before his eyes.
He rakes his gaze back to the bonfire and realized she was laying on the grass, the blankets and cushions were gone and the fire was a raging inferno. She was wearing his jersey, the one she’d made before he crushed her heart at the quidditch match. Dream-Sebastian was standing above her, his wand leveled at her with the most unforgivable of curses ready to spit from his lips. She’d endured it once before at his hand. He’d rather endure a lifetime under crucio than hear her gut-wrenching pleas.
He blinks and now he’s in the shoes of his former self. She’s staring up at him, eyes blown wide with fear, “I love you,” she whispers, lips trembling.
He tries to move his lips, screams those same three words over and over and over in his head until he feels his mind tear at the seams, but no sound leaves his lips. He can feel the phantom grip of his own hand tighten on his wand and he’s a frightened fifth-year all over again. No, not frightened, he’s fucking terrified. Because this time, he knows what will happen. Now, he knows that she holds his heart in her hands and he’s about to set her body ablaze. He thrashes against the mental bonds readying the curse at his lips and feels like crying from the frustration and nausea he can feel in his bones. She makes a sound beneath him, a fledgling sob caught in her throat, and he stills.
“Do you know what it felt like, Sebastian? When you broke my heart?” she asks. He pauses for an eternity, hoping it would last just one second more if only to keep her from the curse just a moment longer. She rises slowly and guides the tip of his wand to the center of her chest. He holds his breath. Please, no. Anything but this, he begs.
“It felt like this,” she whispers. There’s a moment, just before the world tips on its axis that he thinks he’s been granted just one small mercy. But then he feels crucio leave his lips. The red lashes catch her square in the chest and she opens her mouth in a morbid mirror of the faces on the Scriptorium door. He thinks that maybe hearing nothing at all is even worse. But she falls to her knees before him, and then she screams. And Sebastian feels something break in him all over again, a bone rebroken, improperly set from the horror he thought he had healed from. All at once she stops. She isn’t moving. She isn’t even breathing. And then, he screams.
---
In his bed Sebastian bolts awake, a cutoff scream echoing in his room and cold sweat drying on his skin.
.
.
.
.
.
Taglist:@snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @milk-barrs-blog, @somethingiswrongwithme, @bleh-stupid, @stay-gray, @mrsbrookesallow, @lostgirl-28, @kateisnotheree, @doigettokeepyou, @dreamqueenkala, @uwuitzerimpact, @neoqueen306, @ghostly-haunted, @exhorto, @riceballsandanime, @theperson-nextdoor
#I'M SORRY#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x you#sebastian sallow x y/n#sebastian sallow#angst#fluff#ominis gaunt#garreth weasley#garreth weasley x reader#garreth weasley x mc#garreth weasley x y/n
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Tender
Bo-Katan Week 2023
Day 2: Wedding/Marriage
Pre Vizsla is rarely sweet with Bo-Katan, but when he is, it is a bittersweetness for Bo and her complicated feelings for him.
AO3 link here.
“You’ll make a pretty bride.”
Bo-Katan snorted a derisive laugh at the comment but didn’t reply as she continued to undress.
But Pre, insistent of her attention, came up behind her, his hands on her hips, turning her to face him. She could smell the tihaar and strong ale on his breath. “You’ll be glorious. Ethereal. A golden goddess in that Kryze gold." Bo-Katan rolled her eyes, but looped her arms around Pre’s neck, letting him continue. “You’ll be the right hand and consort to the true Mand’alor. Bearer of his children.” She scoffed again, and he stiffened. She tensed, waiting for his rare pleasant mood to shatter.
"You don't think so? Don't you want that?" His voice was soft, almost wounded. Not the rough growl she'd feared.
She lifted a hand to his cheek, letting her fingers gently stroke the prickly stubble on his face. His beard had always been quick to fight its way back. The reveries for the riduurok of Pre's wing commander had started early and Bo had finally convinced Pre to give his best wishes and say good night in the dark hours of the morning.
"Cyare, I just want to be with you. I want you to be happy."
He smiled. "I want to marry you." Then kissed her.
She smiled against his lips, though she bit her tongue on the thoughts that raced through her head.
This wasn't the first time he'd said that. It likely wouldn't be the last.
But they had been together for fifteen years. And nothing had ever come of it.
“Then marry me,” she prodded, knowing the answer.
His hands let go of her waist, traveling up and down her back. She watched his face, saw the rare softness in it. He shook his head. “The time isn’t right. We have much work to do.” His hands came around to her front, and his fingers fidgeted with the fastener of her flight suit. “You know we have to stay focused, Bo.”
She let out a sigh, but he didn’t seem to catch the frustration behind it. “Of course, Pre. You’re right.”
He was oblivious to her emotions and her thoughts, single minded now in what he was really after. He worked her flight suit open, and his hands were on her bare skin, hot and groping and clumsy. He pulled her close, slipping the suit from her shoulders, his lips sloppy as he kissed her neck, tipping her head back to pepper her collarbone with drunken kisses.
“My love,” she half whispered, a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing back against him, “you are very drunk and it is very late.” It was a risk to deny him, but she was tired enough to take the risk in hopes to avoid Pre huffing his stale ale breath in her face while he clumsily rutted his way to oblivion.
He grumbled into her skin but, to her relief, he pulled away, swaying slightly. “Eh, you’re right.” He flopped down on the bedroll, and struggled with his boots for a moment before Bo kneeled and swatted his hands away, taking them off herself. She then helped him recline, settling him among the few thin pillows. He sighed contently and, before she could move away, he reached up, brushing her hair from her face. “I do really love you. Mhi solus.”
She took a deep breath as she caught his hand, kissing it. “I love you, too, Pre. Please go to sleep. We have to be up early.”
He nodded, and she pulled away, finding a canteen of water and a fistful of pain relief tabs to place next to him. By the time she crawled into the bed roll beside him, he was snoring loudly, deep in a booze fueled slumber.
She lay awake, thinking of what he’d said, wishing she could believe him, despite the ache to leave him, too.
As a young woman, really still a girl, she had believed him the first time he had talked of marrying her. And she had wanted it. It had felt intoxicating, being so desired by a man like Pre. She had been more than ready to give him anything and everything he asked for.
But now his talk of marrying her felt more like an empty threat. Just like all the times he threatened to kill her.
He would say he should kill her, but he never would. Pre needed her too much.
And he would talk about how he wanted to marry her, but he never would. Because she would never be as important to him as Mandalore and his work.
There would never be a marriage, she knew. They would continue on in this same cycle- moments of deep sweetness and love peppering their volatile relationship. The cycle would not break. There would never be marriage.
She rolled to her side and watched him sleep, his stony face, now scarred from a lightsaber, soft and relaxed. He was still handsome. Still the beautiful boy she and her sister had both had girlish crushes on in their childhood.
She loved him. He was fire and passion and brilliance.
She hated him. He was horrible,angry, and cruel.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
She wanted to be free of him, one way or another.
She reached across the small distances between them and dragged her knuckles along the chiseled features of his face before willing herself to close her eyes and rest. They would be leaving early in the morning, really only in a few short hours, to go to Florrum, following some rumor Pre had heard about a skirmish between some Jedi and some unknown Force wielders.
Soon, within hours, her soft and tender Pre would be gone again, lost to his obsessions and revenge seeking. They would fall back into their tried and true rhythms. He would be cruel again, short tempered and anxious. She would work endlessly to find the balance between propping up his fragile ego and avoiding his wrath.
She would miss this moment. She would miss the brief time to fantasize about the life she would never have. A life loved, full of tenderness, with the man to whom she gave herself completely.
Pre would never marry her, she knew. Their life would never be tender. And one day, one of them would die. Quite possibly at the hand of the other.
#bo katan kryze#pre vizsla#bopre#the terrible and beautiful dumpster fire ship#bo-katan week 2023#bkw 2023
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Dipping my feet in writing again. It's just a few sentences.
Steve Rogers (POV) x Unnamed Female Character
Warnings: Angst and Cheating
Steve watched as she primped in the antique, gilded hallway mirror.
Her dark chestnut curls glimmering in the filtered, globed light as she expertly slicked blood red gloss on her full lips.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN BY THE LOOK IN MY EYES, BABY, THERE WAS SOMETHING MISSIN’
“You're beautiful.”
Her reflection smiled back at him.
“Will you be late? I can wait up.”
YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BY THE TONE OF MY VOICE, MAYBE, BUT YOU DIDN’T LISTEN
“I’m not sure.”
She adjusted the wide, gold herringbone chain Steve had given her for their 4th anniversary.
It mimicked the deep scooped neckline of her cream mini dress.
“I might crash at Ava’s.”
YOU PLAYED DEAD, BUT YOU NEVER BLED
“How ‘bout you and I go out tonight instead? We can go to that bistro you like then I’ll take you dancing.”
She turned, brushing past Steve, spike heeled gladiator sandals clicking on the hardwood floor.
“I’m not canceling on my girls.”
“You were out with them last weekend. I just thought we could spend some time together for a change.”
Whirling around, her eyes flared.
“Jesus Christ Steve, you’re really gonna lecture me about a girl’s night out when you spend half the goddamn time hanging out with Sam and Bucky? Seriously!”
INSTEAD YOU LAID STILL IN THE GRASS, ALL COILED UP AND HISSING
His friend’s accusations looped around his brain.
“She’s fucked half of Brooklyn.”
“The Bartender at REINE”
“The IT guy at her agency”
“The new partner at her sister’s law firm”
“The mechanic who worked on her corvette”
The
The
The
“Nat saw her with”
“Pepper recognized her car”
“Regular at that sleazy Fairmont motel”
He pushed the words down, burying them as he always did.
AND THOUGH I KNOW ALL ABOUT THOSE MEN, STILL I DON’T REMEMBER
Steve twisted the titanium band on his left ring finger, his gaze falling on the framed wedding photo.
CAUSE IT WAS US, BABY, WAY BEFORE THEM, AND WE’RE STILL TOGETHER
“It was only a thought, sweetheart.”
He kissed her cheek, careful to avoid mussing her meticulous applied makeup.
She smelled of oranges and cloves, the same perfume she’d worn at the altar when they’d sworn their vows.
AND I MEANT EVERY WORD I SAID. WHEN I SAID THAT I LOVE YOU, I MEANT THAT I LOVE YOU FOREVER
Lifting to her tiptoes, her lips brushed against his.
“Don’t wait up Baby. I’ll text if I'm not coming home.”
Steve watched her leave, frozen in place until he heard the corvette’s rumbling engine fade.
He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of cheap tequila.
For the millionth time he wished he could get drunk, craving oblivion.
Powering on his laptop, he typed in a series of commands.
Specially configured panoramic microscopic cameras embedded in his wife’s necklace and wedding set activated, bathing him in a blue glow.
AND I’M GONNA KEEP ON LOVING YOU. CAUSE IT’S THE ONLY THING I WANNA DO. I DON’T WANNA SLEEP. I JUST WANNA KEEP ON LOVING YOU
Keep On Loving You
REO Speedwagon 1980
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Summary: New Year’s Eve 1981 Anna has a child free evening and spends it with Remus her only friend left. Also a small scene in a bigger WIP, 9 Christmases with Sirius Black and 1 without. I’ve written like 6 different versions of this scene
warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, grieving, death of friends, loneliness, by most definitions cheating
art by midjourney
It was a bad idea. It was a bad idea drinking as much as they had, until the room was spinning and Remus was having to hold her up, or she was steadying herself with her hand placed on his chest. And she found herself staring at his face — it was the only thing in focus — and remembering just how much she found him attractive in school. A silly, stupid school girl crush that had enveloped into a very special kind of love over a decade of friendship.
But honestly, Remus quite fit. His sandy brown hair was a mess because she kept running her fingers through it — she enjoyed the way he subconsciously leaned into her hands. She constantly fiddled with her hands if she wasn’t doing something actively with them —she’d chewed her nails to blood and oblivion since Halloween and was trying to grow them back— so running her fingers through Remus’s hand was the best option. Especially when he looked so content as she did it.
“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing this,” Remus muttered as what little nails she had massaged his scalp. After the last round of shots, they’d settled on his sofa and she’d started her assault just to see how his expression relaxed.
“You deserve the rest,” she replied quietly and didn’t cease.
“We both do,” he pulled away from her reach and turned his body to look at her. “This year has been hell.”
“Mm,” she hummed, it was an understatement but the pathway to reflection opened fresh wounds. She didn’t want to think. “I can drink to that.” She started to get up to go back in the kitchen and Remus grabbed her wrist and she stopped. “What?”
“You’re going to fall over.”
“I can still remember. I would rather—“
“Anna. Sit.” She frowned but sat nevertheless. “You need to be able to function in the morning. Elle’s three.”
“Molly’s already said she’d watch her as long as i needed. She’s a saint.” He entangled his fingers with hers. “Don’t judge me for wanting to forget.” He said nothing, just brushed her hair behind her ear. “Is it midnight yet?”
His eyes left her, looking for the clock. “Just after, now.”
In a stupid, idiotic move she moved forward and pressed her lips against his. For a moment they were both frozen. Then despite herself — despite the anxiety and sadness and mourning that filled her every day — she moved her lips against his. Terrified that if she pulled away he would leave. Even if it was his flat. He’d leave and she’d be alone. There was no one else.
He tasted like fire whiskey cinnamon and vanilla. Her hands found his hair and she pulled him closer. She couldn’t do this alone. Living the rest of this life. She didn’t want him to leave. Time had moved too slowly during the war. The long days and nights had dragged on, but still time had gone by too fast. Tick tick tick of time had dragged them unwillingly into a war where they had lost everyone. They were all alone.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
How long until loneliness outweighed the memories of togetherness? How long until she got swallowed up by her own mourning? Or would she become numb to it? Numb to how much her beautiful daughter looked like her father. Beautiful grayish-blue eyes, black curls that contrasted her own red. Numb to the memories of the love that had made her. The sense of blind faith that everything would have ended up okay after the war. The war — the death, the anger, the loss, the sadness, and the lack of true hope — was worth the world that their daughter would grow up in. A world without Voldemort.
How could everything have gone so wrong?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Even though she felt like she couldn’t get Remus close enough, she still pulled away. Dejected. Breathless. Lost. Overheated.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still so very close to him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated and jerked away. Standing so quickly that the room spun.
She found herself outside. It was colder than she expected, sharp cold wind made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her chest was tight, breathing was hard. The inside lights were blurs of yellow.
She tasted tears on her lips.
She tried to pull everything inside of herself, but she shook with sobs. She heard the faint sound of cheering and perhaps a “Happy new year!” She was just as much of a wreck in 1982 as she was in ‘81.
“Anna?” There was a rush of warm from the door and she looked towards the blurred Remus. She wiped her face and sniffed.
“Hey.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I just needed a minute.”
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—“
“Remus Lupin you’re perfect and it drives me bloody mad,” he opened his mouth to respond but her words kept tumbling out. “You’ve been so helpful with everything. From Elle to just keeping me going and I can’t do this without you. And — and I’ve made it weird and I don’t want to lose you. I’m just so fucking tired.”
“Anna come back inside.”
“A little cold air isn’t going to kill me. I could do that myself.” She shrugged and crossed her arms over herself. Remus’s jaw tightened. “McGonagall would take Elle. I asked over the summer. If something happened to the both of us — with James and Lily in hiding and what happened to Frank and Alice…” she trailed off, forcing air into her lungs. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “She’d be taken care of.”
He reached for her and she withdrew further away. “She needs you. I need you. Here.”
“I know,” she barely whispered. “I know. I’m sorry.” He crossed the space between them and pulled her into his arms. He was so warm she couldn’t bare to push him away. “Please don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you. You’re not just a star to me, Anna, you’re my whole sky.” She looked up at him and blinked back tears. She could’ve kissed him again and again… “Let’s go back inside.”
He held her and held her. He hardly let go of her as she went back inside. He insisted she drink a glass of water and she did. Exhaustion and sorrow filled her in a way that she’d been trying to push back for weeks.
He held her in the living room, the lights dimmed, and the radio was still playing softly. He rubbed her back as she let herself cry into his chest. They melted, in a way, to the floor, Remus supporting himself against the sofa and Anna laying on him. Her hands on his chest, his arms around her back in a hug.
Her first friend in this country was her last. It was that bittersweet thought that lingered in her head as she drifted to sleep, listening to Remus’s breathing.
It was still dark when she woke up with stiffness and the need to pee. Her eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness but what she could make out of Remus Lupin’s face was just beautiful and serene. He smelled like the forest and pages of a book. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to wake him. He was just so… Remus.
Remus who kept her steady when all she wanted to do was collapse. Remus who had walked her through the holidays. Remus who has stayed up with her to decorate the Christmas tree for Elle. Remus who made her smile when he sang muggle Christmas songs in the early hours of the day. Who wiped her tears and held her, whispering that it was going to be okay. Remus who had talked her down when she panicked about meeting his parents for the first time on Christmas.
Remus John Lupin her very best and only friend left.
Her bodily needs overruled her want to admire Remus and she shifted in Remus’s arms and tried to reposition without waking him. She moved, he seemed to grip tighter. “Rem,” she whispered. “Let’s move to your bed.” She tried to untangle her legs from his. His eyes wearily blinked open. “Rem,” she heard the whine in her voice as she repeated his name, “Let’s move to your bed. I have to pee.”
“What time is it?” His grip loosen and she pushed herself up and off of him.
“Dunno. It’s still dark out.” She stood and wobbled a bit. “Figured we have time for proper sleep in a bed.”
#Otp: you’re my whole sky#remus lupin x oc#Sirius Black x oc#marauders era#marauders fic#harry potter#10 christmases#Alli writing#Marauders alli style#Pov: anna#remus lupin#sirius black#mwpp era#marauders#harry potter fanfiction
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Still, despite, after, life
Crying to survive
Writing into oblivion
Drawing the beginning
Perishing over smiles
Once I lived, I always did
For others,
Since I fell, I left a seed
For others
Tears, they rolled and dropped
For others
Dreams, they faded and broke
For others
Cut and tear my skin and soul
For others
Haunted myself like a ghoul
For others
Body will cry and suffer
For others
Gathered my bruises
For others
Lament and grow slowly
For her
Built up and honestly
For her
Cried rivers, oceans and seas
For her
Filled my heart with the sky
For her
Flooded my room with ideas
For her
Spilled my feeling around
For her
Let me eyes see emotions
For her
Fall into a net of connections
For her
And others spent time
For me
They heard my cry
For me
Hang on and wouldn't let go
For me
See my essence and loved
For me
Survive until tomorrow
For me
Fought against my sorrow
For me
Saw what was real
For me
Discover that what I feel
For me
So I'll be
Crying to survive
Writing into oblivion
Drawing the beginning
Perishing over smiles
My head turns and spins
The thing, try a thought
Ideas began to shrink
Darkness all it brought
Once they came forward
Part of my soul taken
Theirs forever to safeguard
My heart out and open
C'mon read my love
It's only dark for you
Please, make it abroad
It aches for your tune
It's safe through them
To live what I dread
An idea for mayhem
They learn in my stead
I don't, I can't talk
I do not know how
My mouth be stuck
And my mind too loud
Keep quite and you'll hear
Listen the turmoil grow
Keep you eyes shut, fear
Watch my dreams burn
Type the future only
By the exclusive past lens
End all the time coming
Present to fast to sense
A universe is created
God is born and formed
My emotions placated
My vision was distorted
It will be the end
I will stay in the paper
A character, I will pretend
Sanity, inside is safer
Dissolve the ink in metaphor
Fade into pages of silence
Mortals is caution for
The last line my sentence
So I'll be
Writing into oblivion
Drawing the beginning
Perishing over smiles
Draw a card or two or three, draw them all
Reality's your will to contort
Paste it over to cover my heart from the fall
Finished, a canvas to distort
A line, a dot, a dimension of senses
Tell me a story or not
Will you interpret my pot of madness?
Read it, might be knot
Does it have the only value of coin?
Maybe gold was fabricated
This time the shading will be on point.
Practice or be replicated
A face, some hands, a shape smudged
Lick your fingers in my flavor
Perspective, the only path to trudge.
Sip of my soul and favor
To first see and then hear to think
Existence questioned over heartless pretension
Pull your gaze for my single link
A chain so long you'll never reach my intention
A cave of beginnings, figures of ancestors
A brush stroke to our kin
Watch and bask your eyes full of protesters
A scar by knife in my skin
Meaningful, fulfilling conversation
Indulge in affection and sentiment
Turn to meaningless confrontation
Grudge of poor and misled excitement
Let me show you the origin of power
Hid my face, my product has personality
Observe the late blooming flower
Gaze on me, the last piece of humanity
So I'll be
Drawing the beginning
Perishing over smiles
I beg of you
Show me your face
I beg of you
Let me help
Pain, the only escape
Show me the way
I'm tired of the masquerade
Let me sway
Sleep forever
Show me, restful night
Drift my heart in the sea
Let me sleep
Please love me
Show me reason
I can live no more
Let me reason
I crave your touch
Show me affection
I fade to silence
Let me feel
Do anything for happiness
Show me an end
For anyone but myself
Let me sacrifice
Look at me
Show me a smile
I did everything correctly
Let me be
So I'll be
Crying my soul out to survive
loneliness or happiness
Writing my heart into oblivion
disappearing in my mind
Drawing the beginning
of downfall or victory
Perishing over our smiles
because we deserve it.
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Had some sleep and awake again so I thought I'd maybe drop some news.
First up all pro Palestine marches have been banned in town. Not even sure the local jewish folks agree with our non jewish secretary of state deciding that condemning Israel = saying it shouldn't exist let alone antisemitism but some Chetchen young man with clear PTSD went mad at seeing Gaza being well, Chechnya-ed into oblivion with international approval and killed a teacher so we're in right wing "terrorists under your bed" mode. I won't watch the news, there will be sound clips of horrific islamophobia like it's religion's fault and antisemitic dog whistles because this is french right wingers, they like Israel for strategic war reasons and also because they kinda hope all the jews will move there instead of their rightful ancestral lands which are Right Here in Europe. We did reparations so wrong. There have been jewish settlements, businesses, families, synagogues right here across Europe. A respected honored return and dedicated land for jewish refugees should have been right here, probably on German soil (I'd also say enclaves or debt from France... And Hungary and Lithuania but they're still in denial)
The profile as a terrorist is based on a single Allahu-ackbar. They had arrested him earlier that week, interrogated him and released him. The world saw him as a terrorist, he was watching another country like his get crushed, he lashed out with violence. Dude should have had a counsellor check in instead because of generational trauma. And now his stupid crime is propaganda for the machine. I hate this.
––––––
J, like me, also had cramps last night and then spent the morning feeling nauseated in the loo and I knew exactly what items to hand her (water bottle, anti spasmodic, caffeine, bucket, towel for sweat, baby wipes in case of need for quick cleanup and vicks vaporub under the nose) she thought I was reading her mind, I've just been there.
Went to the dentist, a double booking with Mum to set up the 'family' account with a new dentist (9 have retired in the past year and there are only 4 close by so it's been two years to get a slot - once you're a registered client the wait times drop to 2 months) it was up a steep flight of stairs so a year ago I couldn't have made it. Hidden in a residential building between two shops and called 'le France' no I have no idea what that's about either I'm guessing it's le france because it used to be le bâtiment or le café france and got shortened or something.
I had a clear plan of action the night before (ask about neck, ask about tongue) but was hazy by the time we got there from car dizzyness and lack of sleep. Then the receptionist asks us to fill in forms while she's also asking questions on the form. It was hard to focus on either. And she goes "don't you recognise me?" and I say "oh I'm sorry we're terrible with faces! where do we know you from?" - guess! Anyway mum and i managed to throw out pretty much everywhere we've lived in France since 93 and any groups we've been part of together.
Five minutes later she explains she knows us from an address we never lived at LOL and knew my sister at 14yo. That actually narrows down the options because we know a ton of Valeries. I have never met this woman. This is horse lady Valerie. She took tourists on horse back rides through the lovely scenery to pay for her horse sanctuary and gave kids lessons.
Sis has loved horses forever despite only meeting them in fields. So one year we got her riding lessons, she paid for half with stable work. She had a wonderful time, V has very strange social skills and isn't good with kids (specifically not picking favourites) but sis bonded with a stubborn reliable mare who didn't like people but who did like my sister for her respect for boundaries and always asking the horse first (Show the brush, ask, then brush. Show the saddle, ask, then saddle... ). Yeah the horse loved her and she loved her back, and they got to do horse riding and it was as amazing as the books and period films showed it to be.
So Horse Valerie is a dental assistant now and has a weekend job doing kids yoga. She told us quite a bit about herself (we asked all the right questions: how many horses did she keep? She carefully rehomed the others, How was she adjusting? She does sophrologie (?) now... but didn't ask a thing about sis or us. So she's still her odd self. 😆 I had a flash thought and asked about the horse that spends time in a field in town as the conditions had distressed sis: she felt they were insufficient for a horse to stay all day let alone night when sis and I visited. She said it's a hardy horse from the region from a family who've owned horses for generations. (sis thinks this is a non answer)
By the time I got into the dentist my mind was blank, I managed to list what I'd tried for my tongue and eventually asked if he felt I should get my wisdom teeth out. Forgot to mention the neck!!!
I'm trying base mouthwashes and extra brushing for a month or two we'll see if that helps. As for my wisdom teeth, it'll help the lower teeth not be so cramped and at risk of cavities because I can't floss half of them and he knew the right one comes out partially on the regular.
But otherwise I've been really lucky because I mouthwashed daily for over a decade when bristles would make my teeth bleed while only really brushing my teeth once or twice a week in the bath (because of POTS - brushing sat down is a mess when you can't get up fast and need both hands to get up), I only have been brushing daily for 18 months and use kid fruity toothpaste because mint makes it hard to eat for the next few hours. If my health goes backwards I really want to work out a sat down system with an electric toothbrush and a towel bib or something.
________
Ok so we get home J's feeling much better as she's fully emptied her system but has a fever. A friend called from the hospital to say covid cases are through the roof, time to mask up and avoid groups if possible: stomachs sink, we're all hoping J has a minor stomach flu, she'll be getting tested for Covid before the booster tomorrow.
I can't find the infection stats online in last years' places. Absolutely none of us want to go to hospital this winter unless pandemic protocols are in place. Me and the dentist were the only ones wearing masks, mine came off for the appointment, his came off to do computer work but he was right in front of a window. No-one in town, none of the five people in the waiting room or Valerie. Makes you feel like you're being paranoid. I'd be having a panic attack rn if I hadn't worn a mask today though.
—–—–—–—
Got two parcels done 🎉🎈, i still get a little bitter throwing money at laposte because I don't trust them and the box they made me tick saying "i'd pay return fees if things don't work out" doesn't help. But on the bright side I got to choose some cool stuff to send a friend and also said goodbye to more handpicked baldies: 3 Licca modern l07, 5 Licca classic modern k29, Karen chan ribon (I will find you again someday) and Kurhn.
Yes I had concepts for most of them. Split hair, gradients, thermal hair, a proper Cinnamoroll themed gal, a twin stars dupe. Blank nicely spherical heads with a flattish top (+small, soft vinyl) let you play with dividing it up in a way that's less easy with Barbie. From about 1cm back the hair falls backwards and won't be seen from the front.
Ok speaking of hair, Hair Wear Summer's green underhair streak is doll grade kanekalon and matte. No wonder there were so many rerooted versions of her on flickr, that will have frazzled right up if a boil wash was too close to the boiling point. She's pre-gluehead era thank goodness. If my neck wasn't busted I'd have replaced those 40ish plugs with a nice shiny green saran or a ginger blend so the next owner doesn't ruin it. Good to be reminded Mattel was also making baffling decisions for higher end playline in 2007.
Today I took Lily for a short walk and the new neighbours' dog came running to the gate (which is up a steep slope about 4 yards in) and barked, I was going to walk on by but decided to walk up to the gate because Lily is super chill, I told the dog "no barking. we're neighbours and we're cool" handed him a piece of cracker, he let me stroke his nose but later still wanted to bark at Lily. This is going to take stronger treats! In the meantime, orange cat came running and tried to squeeze through the fence to play with the fluffy dog.
We left right as he finally wiggled that derrière out of the fence. Sorry lil orange mischief, some other time!
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𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗢𝗻𝗲:
— 𝗥𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴
The sea brushes the shoreline and pulls away, brushes, pulls away - as faltering as I once was. I watch in awe; my eternal reminder of what it is capable of.
She was as beautiful as she was tragic, that estranged woman of mine. I never could quite reach her, although I tried. But I never abandoned the hope that I held on to with a white-knuckled grip, much like the empty whiskey glass which I swirl in hand - the fifth one now, I'm almost sure. Squinting against the captivating, swirling colors of an Ireland sunset, I pour another. My gaze slowly travels across the vast expanse of deep, glassy blue, mind racing as it often does during these moments.
I loved her like it was the last thing I would ever do, and it was. And that plagued my thoughts relentlessly, asleep or awake. I could feel myself slipping away again, as if I'd soon disappear into the same glacial clutches that took her from me. The only comfort I could find for the two years since, happened to be the culprit - I was beginning to resent its beauty, more and more each day.
Another glass of whiskey and I struggle to my feet. I make no attempt to steady the tremble in my step as I coax myself onward, straight for the obsidian waves ahead of me. I close my eyes, the smell and taste of saltwater spray transporting me to another time, but the same place.
• • •
She was still in her nightgown from the evening prior, her hair a usual mess of gorgeous, almond curls all bunched on top of her head, arms fanned as she danced in the mist, her warm smile no warning of what was to come that very same night. I wanted so badly to resent her, too. And resent her I did, for a while. That first year nearly destroyed what was left of me, of my sanity.
I began to see her in everything; the threshold of an open door, her footprints in the sand, and on occasion, I would be blessed with a faint wisp of her expensive perfume. I could seldom feel the weight of her body lying next to me on especially stormy nights in the bed we once shared - one I could no longer stand to sleep in. Our bedroom door, a forgotten entryway, closed indefinitely.
I hated myself for being angry at her, and the suffocation that accompanied each breath was nothing short of agonizing. I was on edge while also teetering over it, I held a rage inside my bones that terrified even me.
But that darkness soon took another form, its arms enveloping me in a peaceful stupor, containing me in a liberating oblivion where I could feel those emotions, but the intensity wasn't so debilitating. And what a damn relief that turned out to be. I could breathe again at last - my soul was no longer in ruins.
• • •
My eyes slowly open to a blanket of grim clouds, the sea continuing its melancholy dance, just for me. The waves pool at my ankles before gliding back into the murky abyss. Then, as though I'm being controlled by another's will, I turn away. Instead of finally succumbing to the idea of being reunited with my beloved, that warm embrace forbids me, leading me across the cool sand and back to my home where I open that bedroom door, a resounding groan of protest welcoming me, and I step into the bitter chill residing behind it. I scan every inch with a wary gaze.
Frozen in time, the sheets still a mess, opened books on her side of the bed, empty bottles on mine - it's as if she never actually left, all over again. But this time, I'm eager for her presence - no longer a shell of the man I used to be, no longer fearful of seeing her face and being burdened with only the bad memories; my drunken outbursts and her withdrawing so deeply that I could dare say that I lost her long before she ever left. My fingers give way to a nervous tic, twisting into the fabric of my shirt at my abdomen.
As I draw closer to the bed, boot soles disturbing a thick layer of dust that covers the entire floor, I allow myself to relax with a deep inhale. Lowering onto the bed, I press my palms into the mattress, remembering the first time I touched her, how delicately sweet she tasted, the sounds I teased from her, that intoxicating scent of hers - and then, I ��𝙚𝙚𝙡 her. A dainty hand perched upon my shoulder, easing my sorrow, soothing my soul. Although I won't feel it, I place my hand over where hers should be, and just as I'd suspected, nothing. But she was still here; my eternal reminder of what it is not capable of.
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"𝓗𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓲𝓷'𝓽 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂."
I’d like to say that argument was a defining moment, a bitch slap of reality if you like, but in truth I was too far gone to care, I continued to stew, to ferment in my own misery. If anything at all, I had further retreated from everything and everyone, except from this sofa and Disney movies. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I slept in my own bed.
I could feel Aoibhe’s watchful gaze this particular morning, the low disgruntled murmur she made every morning since the coffee ban, should have been amusing as hell, and would have been under normal circumstances, but I felt nothing inside. Pulling the blanket further up, almost acting as a shield from all this, I click start on the next movie, as Aoibhe moves to the arm chair.
“You know, sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with this, Cait.”
I knew she was right, after all I couldn’t expect the world outside to pause while I vanished into oblivion. I had my placement and training to think of, but I no longer want to exist. The truth was I was more broken than I let people know, the one who had always kept herself locked away so she couldn’t be hurt and the cruel irony the world had, the ultimate way to hurt me to take away the two people that meant the most to me. leaving me with absolutely nothing.
“I’m going to get some air.”
It's probably the most I had moved in this past week, I was surprised she had stuck by me like this, after all the only other friend I had that had once felt more like a sibling had sucked Sean’s dick.
“Why are you out alone here, Caitlín?”
Feeling my body tense up at the sound of his voice, my hands curling into fists within the safety of my coat pockets.
“What do you want, Sean?”
Twisting my head to scowl as his figure as he moves from the shadows, holding his hands up in an act of innocence.
“Just to talk, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the service.”
“Where’s Mairead?”
I all but grind out, the last thing I want to do is talk about her, or even talk to him.
“She’s at home, this pregnancy is being hard on her.”
Taking a sudden step to my side as his hand brushes down my arm.
“Don’t fucking touch me…”
Flinching, he looks pained momentarily, before smiling.
“You’re my best friend, Cait. I love you; I miss you; I miss us.”
Shaking my head as I look over at him, the man who at one point I thought was my future.
“Is that why you came to find me in London?”
Sean takes a step towards me, shrugging.
“I had tried to contact you before, but you never answered your fucking phone.”
Stumbling back against the railing, I remembered this side of him only too well, not the picture perfect boyfriend the world believed. Caging me within his arms, he leans down.
“I love you, Cait…”
The moment I feel his lips brush along my jaw, I react on instinct slamming my knee into his balls. Shoving him away from me as he drops to the floor, making almost inhuman noises, pacing around as my anger builds.
“How dare you! HOW FUCKING DARE, YOU!”
Tugging at my hair, I wasn’t the same scared girl that he had the power over.
“Ugh, I like these jeans and all, and now I need to throw them away, better yet…burn them.”
“We belong together Cait!”
“You’re with Mairead, she’s pregnant with your baby, or did you forget about sticking your cock in her when you were meant to marry me!”
“It’s not my baby!”
Barking out a laugh I give him an incredulous look.
“Do I look like I care? You made your bed, Sean.”
Turning away, I start to walk off.
“At least she was there for me, all those nights you were off chasing some dumb dream.”
Now the adult part of me knows I should just keep walking, but then I was never any good at listening to that side as I twist round…
The feelings for shame and guilt overwhelm me as I look between the Gardaí and Aoibhe as she picks me up, incapable of stopping the tears from falling during the ride home, as if I have been holding them back for far too long, which is probably true. Choking up inside by the crushing pain, as I manage to whisper out.
“I’m sorry…” My voice growing in intensity, “I’m so fucking sorry for everything I have done …”
Letting out another gut-wrenching sob, as I twist to avoid her gaze, pausing as she opens the front door, choosing to do the only thing I know I’m good at. I run, for my life, from my life. The voices a distant blur, much like my vision, as my heavy heart beats match the heavy thump of my footsteps, each bringing me nearer.
My head filled with a thousand thoughts, my lifetime with my parents, those alone almost cause me to stumble over, grasping hold of the railing the salty air stings at my tear-stained cheeks. Without a single thought I climb over.
“Cait…Cait, what the fuck are you doing?”
Taking off across the sand, a lot more like stumbling and falling than actual running, as my feet sink further into the damp surface, the waves calling me, as I wade deeper and deeper. Each crash against the shore pulses through my system like my own waves of grief, as I fall to my knees wanting nothing more than to be consumed, anything to stop this paralyzing pain.
No sooner do I feel the coolness rush over me, than it’s all ripped away from me, and I’m being pulled away. I mewl like a baby, fighting to be let go of, but in honesty all the fight has left my body as we crash against the shore. Concern washes over her features as she pushes the damp locks from my face.
“Let it out Cait, let it break you, trust in those that love you to help you heal.”
It's only then under the setting sun for the first time in my life, I let myself fall apart, and hope somehow, someday it will be okay.
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(un)crushed
summary; you’ve liked jungkook for the longest time, but you believe it’s time to cut the cord—literally
pairing; human!jungkook x witch!reader
genre/warnings; angst, magic uni!au, a lil bit of fluff and humor, longing on both sides, pining on both sides, unmoral use of potions (im looking at u ryujin), apathy, emotional detachment, lil himbo!koo, mc is a vixx fan that’s canon
w/c; 2.4k
a/n; here’s my contribution to halloween—breaking hearts, mwahahahahaha!! haven’t been feeling inspired lately, hope that’ll change in the winter when the holidays come around. hope u enjoy this lil ficlet!
“C’mon guys, I think it’s,” the poor guy, Jeon Jungkook, tries very hard to pull the word from thin air, “cute.”
Cute. Like the way you greet your puppy, or the way you refer to a baby’s tendencies. You slump from your position behind the willow tree, the rough bark catching onto your dark pink cloak.
“Please, she’s a complete weirdo,” Jung Hoseok continues, and this saddens you considerably because you thought the kind boy liked your company, “she’s had a crush on you for what, like two years? She’s so obvious, it’s not fun at all.”
“Plus, she gives you all these little gifts thinking it’ll make you like her,” Kim Taehyung adds, slinging an arm over the younger one’s shoulder, “and my dude, you are a handsome guy. Yet, you got no chance with any other girl because that witch is all over you! Jennie was practically eye-fucking you at last night’s party but that witch is always in the way!”
You clutch the notes you’ve been saving for Jungkook between your chest, letting the parchment crumple.
“She’s a fine lab partner, one of the best. You’ll definitely get an A+ in that class, but her attention is a terrible tradeoff.”
Jungkook finally cuts through his friends, effectively ceasing their banter. You spare a glance at him, hoping he’d come to your defense. After all, you’ve been through so much together! Maybe not emotionally—romantically, but at least academically. The two of you poured over notes in the library whenever there was a big exam. After all, many of the projects are done with lab partners.
Looking hopefully at his large, honest brown eyes he admits, “Yeah, she’s relatively harmless. But you’re right, she can be really annoying.”
You muffle your first sob, shoving your mitten in your pocket to prevent any more from coming. This isn’t worth your tears. You should’ve realized long ago that Jungkook found your adoration for him to be a nuisance. The gifts: snacks during labs, meticulously penned notes, euphoric elixirs, were all tokens of affection that he accepted with bashful thanks. They were all things you’ve given to your friends over the years, so you hoped some semblance of a relationship would grow from it. Jungkook seemed to receive them with joy. You figured something was going right.
Clearly not however, because Jungkook just said that you’re annoying. A nuisance. A cute kid. A lab partner that’s only good for an easy A.
Fine, you never expected Jungkook to turn around anyway. You finally brush the tears of your ruddied cheeks, stomping away and letting the notes in your arms disintegrate into oblivion.
Now comes the issue of your lingering feelings.
“Yeji’s Hate Potion is just the fix,” you watch with horror as Ryujin opens her mini-fridge, having a seemingly endless supply of the red liquid. “I use it all the time when I fall in love with someone.”
“That’s not healthy,” you admit bluntly, bending over to pull a vial in your hands. You can feel the anger radiate off the bottle, the ruddied liquid burning into your palm. You carefully place it in your cloak for later, but only as a last resort. “But I don’t want to hate Jungkook.”
“Why not!” she exclaims, slamming the tiny door shut, “he likes to eat acid pops during lab. His friends suck. He’s so fucking sweaty, all the time!” Ryujin cries, pulling you to your feet with a talon-filed hand.
You find it quite attractive when Jungkook sweats, especially when he’s playing soccer with his friends, but you figure Ryujin wouldn’t like to hear that. “Only if I really need to,” you commit to your senses, knowing a hate potion would be too far.
“Oh boo, do it the boring way then,” she leads you to the front of the apothecary, where a long line has already formed. The tiny part-time gig is both a benefit and a curse to Ryujin, because while she has an unlimited supply of resources, it gets impossibly busy during midterms and finals. Once they see her, witches and warlocks alike scurry to her, in which she simply puts up a hand and shoos them away.
From the counter she pulls out two candles, connected by an extra long wick.
“Cord-cutting spell,” she shoves the large candles into your stomach, “light ‘em up and you’ll be apathetic towards him for a long, long time.”
“This is perfect,” you gush, your nose lifting at the smell of myrrh and tonka, “I really appreciate it, Ryu.”
“That boy doesn’t deserve you,” Ryujin’s confident reply comforts you immediately, “I wish you’d just let me turn him into a toad!”
“Ryujin!” you laugh, slapping her shoulder.
“What can I say,” Ryujin snatches up a customer's items, attention already taken, “little humans who mess with witches get stitches.”
That night, you take your time with the ritual. You light white sage and cleanse yourself, reflecting on the weight that’ll soon be off your shoulders. As fun as it was to love Jeon Jungkook, it doesn’t make sense to continue if you’re a bother to him.
You carve yours and Jungkook’s name on opposite candles, the pitch black wax staining your hands as you meticulously inject your neat handwriting on the dark cylinder. It’s cathartic, and it gives you time to be at peace with this decision. At first it worried you, knowing you’d be erasing two years of affection and dedication for the handsome human, but you couldn’t let yourself ache like this any longer.
With a flick of your hands, the connecting wick in the middle lights. You watch as the rope burns in your room, the smell of vanilla and wood filling the air. You close your eyes and fold your hands together as you watch your emotions crumble before your eyes.
And with this wick, I sever this quick.
Once the little rope breaks, crackling into ash, you feel your muscles relax and your body slump forward. You sigh in relief, feeling the tenseness evaporate from your body.
This is new.
No snacks, no elixirs, not even a hello. You’re dressed smartly, your navy cloak with the lace trims covering the middle of your thighs. Black thigh-highs with a bow in the center complete the look, an outfit Jungkook has noticed you like to wear more often than not.
“Hi, Little Witch,” Jungkook says softly, not wanting to disturb whatever video Professor Song is saying to the class.
“Hello, Jeon,” you don’t spare him a glance, in favor of reading whatever book you’re caught in.
Also new, Jungkook muses. Normally, your face would heat and you’d hide your tiny smile whenever he called you Little Witch. At first it was just to bother you, but of course you had found it sweet and it just stayed that way.
Today there’s no lab. Turns out that Professor Song is playing an hour long documentary on winter grown herbs. Normally when a movie plays, you’d be off the rails excited. You’d talk Jungkook’s head off, rattling whatever information the documentary has with a fever that would have those directors shaking in awe.
Yet, there’s no hushed whisper coming from you, no tug at his sweater. You’re quietly taking notes, your hand digging into your cheek as if you’re bored. Strange, maybe you’re having an off day.
As soon as Professor Song dismisses you, he realizes that he’s spent the whole period wondering about you, and he had no notes on the documentary. He can’t even stop to compare information because you’re already out the door, cloak swinging against your hips.
“Hey, you know Kim Namjoon? He’s the TA for Professor Dav,” Jungkook seems to be talking a lot more these days, poking and prodding at you for something, anything. All last week and all this week you’ve only talked when you needed to, only stating instructions and answers.
You nod, your hands trained on the silver cauldron beneath you. He’ll never get tired of watching you brew, the way your hands curl like a little fairy. Then again, he’s fascinated by witches in general, he isn’t just enamoured by your skills. It isn’t specifically your brewing, at least he thinks.
“He’s going on a trip with his Divination section this Saturday, they’re going into the mountains to chart stars,” Jungkook continues as if normal, searching for your gaze between his hazy goggles. “They said we could each bring a friend.”
“That’s nice.” Your voice is bland and thin, not holding any weight. It’s the definition of grey, one that makes Jungkook’s tongue dry up.
“Do... you want to go with me?”
“No, but I appreciate the invitation.”
“But, you love Divination!” he replies exasperatedly, looking at you as if you’ve grown three heads. He thought this would get you to crack, that this would be the magic key to unlock everything. You wouldn’t stop gushing about how much you loved that class last year, how Jungkook should take it this year. And he did, and he quite enjoyed it. He figured the two of you would have fun charting the stars. After all, don’t witches find it romantic?
“I do,” you agree, “but I’m just not feeling it.”
You’re not feeling much of anything, he thinks, but he bites his tongue and continues to work.
He should be happy you’re off his back. When he told Hoseok and Taehyung that your feelings seemed to have waned, they cheered and offered to pay for all his drinks at their favorite bar. Jungkook concludes that it’s a good thing, not having to wonder whether you’d be hanging around and clinging by his side.
That night at the bar, he even got Jennie’s number and made out with her in the booth. It was alright.
Yet nothing compares to the way you’re making him feel right now. You’re frustrating him. Jungkook is level-headed, and isn’t the type to complain, and yet he wants to ask you what’s wrong. He wants to ask why you wear those damn thigh high socks all the time. He wants to know why you don’t want to spend a night under the stars with him.
He wants to know why it feels like you hate him.
“Okay Little Witch, you’ve got me!”
You look up from your spot under the bridge in confusion, bookmarking your journal. Your lip curls and you tilt your head to the side, frowning. Your feet are tucked into your emerald green cloak, black oxfords pushed to the side as you lean against the underpass of the grey and white bridge.
Jungkook is mustering the last of his courage, the last of his confidence all balled up into this little moment. It’s nighttime, your favorite time of the day. Not only that, but he saw you laughing with Ryujin and Sera earlier in the cafeteria. That means you must be in a good mood. This is it, he’s figured it out.
“I’ve got what?” you ask.
“You’ve won me over, and I want to take you out on a date,” Jungkook pulls out two tickets from his pockets, embossed with a silver seal of authenticity. “VIXX is playing next Friday at the Starland Ballroom. I know how much you like Hakyeon, we could go out for dinner and catch the show.”
A pregnant pause. “You, want to go on a date with me?”
“Y-yeah,” Jungkook stammers, alarmed by your lack of reaction, “you’re really nice, and cute.”
Jungkook watches as you seemingly talk to yourself. Maybe you’re talking to your familiar, a spirit Jungkook doesn’t know himself, as your gaze lingers in the dark shadow beyond the tunnel. He watches you mouth the words cute, over and over. You’re smiling, but not in the pleasant way you did at lunchtime. In fact, you look like you want to laugh at him.
“I’m sorry, Jeon. But I’m just not that interested in you.”
The rejection hurts more than he anticipates. It feels like you’ve physically stunned him. He crushes the tickets in his grip, his palms growing clammy. “Why? I thought you liked me.”
“Yeah, I did like you,” you stuff your bag, taking your time. “I liked you a lot,” you bend down to the figure that emerges from the shadows. The black, slender feline glares at Jungkook with a green fire, its eyes glowing in the dark sky. “I’m sure Jennie likes VIXX too, you should go ask her—Yoongi, please control yourself. You’re better than that.” you run a finger between your cat’s eyes, soothing it.
“I’m sorry, but did I do something?” Jungkook asks, quietly panicking as he watches you walk away from him.
“No,” you reply honestly, albeit tonelessly, “I did.”
“Only emotionless around you, sounds like a dry noodle, empty gaze?” Namjoon ticks everything off in his head, mentally calculating the variables, “yeah. It sounds like a cord-cutting spell.”
“A cord-cutting spell?” Jungkook asks, feeling quite dumb in Namjoon’s wall-to-wall library.
He didn’t feel like turning to his friends for this, feeling like they’ve caused enough damage. They’ve clouded him, convinced him that your attention was unwarranted. Whatever transpired is his fault, he needs to fix this mess and get you back to your normal self.
“Yeah, lots of young women use it when they want to cut their romantic ties to someone,” Namjoon shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “must’ve thought it would’ve been her only way to get over you.”
Get over him? You wanted to get over Jungkook?
“So, how do I break it?”
“What do you mean, how do you break it? Jungkook, you’re human.”
“Then, can you break it? There’s gotta be a way!”
Namjoon rounds the corner of his desk, sitting right in front of Jungkook. A smart kid, although he can be a little dense, he has a good heart. Settling a heavy hand on his shoulder, he shakes his head. “No one can break the spell but her, Jungkook. Besides, why would you interfere? It was her decision to stop liking you.”
Jungkook looks past Namjoon, to the open window overlooking the campus terrace. You’re sitting on a picnic blanket, Yoongi on your lap while you’re animatedly telling your friends a story with your hands. Your legs are folded beneath your thighs, little white bows peeking from the edges of your cloak. Jeong Jaehyun from the lab has his arm around your shoulder, your hips pressed against each other. You're smiling with your whole face, and Jungkook is aching because it feels like forever since you’ve looked at him like that.
He’s being unfair, and selfish. He wants you.
#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#kwritersworldnet#btsghostie#btswritingcafe#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fic#bts fluff#bts angst
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and the last one ! 😭 caesar from jjba, smut, prompts 71 and 75
once again thank you so much maya ! 💖💖
CRYBABY CRY - CAESAR ZEPPELI X READER
Warnings : hair-pulling, mild manhandling, kinda messy tbh, edging, overstimulation, mirror sex, implied size difference, tummy bulge, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dom!Caesar, sub!reader, reader is is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!
Genre : actual porn smut
Word count : 1.0K words
Prompts : "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me." and "You know, you look real pretty when you cry."
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The sound of wet skin slapping resonated throughout the room his heavy groans mingling with her own whimpers; an addictive soundtrack Caesar could never get tired of.
Her hair wrapped around his hand and pulled back, he angled her head back so his plump lips could suckle at the skin of her elegant neck, the ruby necklace he'd gifted her being the only thing she was wearing, falling forward with every thrust of his into her, jerking her body forward. The Italian, though usually very particular, didn't seem to mind at all her slick making a mess out of herself and his own thighs---in fact, he loved the way her wetness only made her so much easier to fuck into oblivion, and made the act so much more intimate, knowing she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
He moaned her name, throwing his head back, some strands of his platinum blonde hair still sticking to his forehead as he began to sweat, pushing both their bodies to the limit as they both wondered just how many rounds they can take.
And right before her walls started clenching around his cock burrowed deep inside her for maybe the fourth or fifth time for the night, he pulled out of her, causing her to whine in protest and try to grab him from behind, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as frustration filled her.
Caesar shushed her gently, capturing her lips in a sloppy French kiss, before brushing her hair back tenderly.
"Be patient, I'm not done yet," his sweet voice washed over her, and she shuffled in her seat, as he picked her up by the waist, readjusting their position so they were both seated with their feet dangling off the bed, and her glistening eyes widened as she looked in front of her, her back pressed into his chest, realization dawning over her.
His teeth nibbled at the hickey's he'd left in his wake, "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror," he slowly spoke, words carrying the promise in his deepened voice, "I want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me."
With three final pecks to her neck, jaw, and lips, her breath hitched in her throat as she watched his reflection, lining up his tip with her entrance, and stuffing her to the hilt with one thrust, a gasp falling from her lips, feeling full and too turned on by the sight of her being split open on his cock.
"Oh, fuck..."
"Told you you looked pretty," he chuckled, only giving her a second to ogle the sensual sight, before he began slamming up into her, her tummy bulging ever the slightest bit as his length pounded into her, over and over and bringing her back to the brink of climax.
His palm cupping her breasts, his deft fingers toying with her nipples, his hot breath down her neck, his teeth tugging at her ear, and the veins of his cock rubbing against her pulsing walls with every thurst---everything about him was overstimulating her at that second. She felt him everywhere, all over her and inside her, and she could only choke on her sobs as white hot pleasure coursed through her veins.
"That's it, gattina¹, look at you," he panted, his finger lightly pushed her chin to settle on their reflection, the sight causing her cunt to squeeze him impossibly tight, and he let out a curse at the burning pleasure, his hips snapping ferociously upwards.
"Can't, 's too much!" she wailed, thighs quivering, yet her body had a mind of its own as her own hips ground down to meet his thrusts, and finally, the tears flowed down her red cheeks freely, "Your cock, I---feel so full. Fuck! 'S sososo good, 'm close."
She turned into a blubbering mess, torn between wanting him to fuck her senseless and not being able to keep up; the sight alone made Caesar's balls tighten, his impeding orgasm inching closer with every tear that slipped down her face and every cry of his name.
The couple was completely entranced, watching in the mirror how she arched her back and threw her head limply into his shoulder; how her tongue lolled out as she gasped for air; how he stretched her out with every pump and her arousal formed a ring of slick at the base of his cock; how his large hands cupped her breast and face in a possessive but loving hold; how his beautiful green eyes looked at her like he couldn't believe she was his to make love to.
"You know, you look real pretty when you cry," he gritted his teeth as he spoke over her wanton moans, "So pretty you'll make me cum, I swear. Mia bella piagnucolona²."
"'nside, want y' to cum inside," she babbled, barely coherent as she sniffled, "Please, please, wanna cum too."
"We'll cum together, tesoro³," he promised, his hips stuttering as his pacing grew erratic; wild even, "Mia bella principessa⁴," Caesar choked on his words, his grip tightening and his other hand slipping down to rub her clit, urging her to chase her own orgasm with him.
All it took were a few more half-thrusts, and she was sobbing in his arms, her entire body spasming as a shattering orgasm rippled through her, and he cried her name out, cock spurting warm ropes of cum inside her and painting her walls white as she trembled in his hold. Riding out their orgasm together, her drool-stained lips chased after his for another kiss, swaying hips slowly stilling to a halt, though her nerves all felt frayed with the way her climax had shaken her and taken her by storm.
If that was the way he fucked her when she cried, then she'd make sure to shed a few tears more often.
¹: kitten
²: my pretty crybaby
³: sweetheart
⁴: my beautiful princess
Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna
#imagine#oneshot#anime#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#smut#jojo#jojo part 2#jojo's bizarre adventure battle tendency#battle tendency#jojo x reader#jojo oneshot#jojo smut#jobro#caesar zeppeli#caesar zeppeli x reader#caesar zeppeli oneshot#caesar zeppeli smut#caesar x reader#caesar oneshot#caesar smut#caesar
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Daddy Issues | S. Jn
Pairing | Seo Johnny x Fem!Reader
Genre | Smut, fluff
Wc;type | oneshot: 3.93k [not proof read]
Warning(s) | Pwp, dilf!johnny, y/n's a pillow princess, daddy kink, overstimulation, teasing, edging, dacryphilia, slight voyeurism, degradation kink, heavy use of the words 'doll, princess, slut, pretty, angel', typical lyra smut, i made haechan johnny's son (i was about to write changbin as johnny's son but decided against it) age gap, unprotected sex ( the Reader's on pills. Remember this is a fiction, don't play the wrong card irl) filth.
a/n- i found this request buried in my asks and was tempted to write it. Sure, the warning looks intimidating, but i know you wanna read it, y'all whores (ily) shoutout to @bakugou-is-my-bae @cvntzennie and @jenopollo for helping me decide what to post first! @suhpersonic
Minors try not to interact! <3
Age is just a number, so surely, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, right?
There's no reason for you to not fall for the friendly neighborhood bachelor, well not so bachelor bachelor, since he does go around asking people who knows of his marriage to pretend it never took place.
Johnny's hot, super hot. Has the build of a supermodel. Has the face that one can only imagine belongs to a greek god, as you'd jokingly tell him how he seemed to be god's favorite and how you loathe Aphrodite for showing favoritism (which would always end up with you getting a very sultry, teasing look from the lad)
Johnny has the type of personality that women can only wish the entirety of the male species would possess. He's an absolute sweetheart, life of the party, definitely the center of attention wherever he goes. And oh god, does he have an immaculate fashion sense.
But Johnny's also the father of Donghyuck. Your best friend.
More than being ashamed about the fact that you actually fell in love with a man who has a child of your age, it was the fact that you had to fall for Donghyuck's father of all people.
Donghyuck is a sweetheart, definitely got his personality from his father but he's also got that glare that could creep the Lord's of the darkness from his father. He's got so much from his father that the resemblance is uncanny.
You'd not want to get onto hyuck's bad side since you've gotten first hand experience at stopping him from almost committing homicide to someone who spoke shit about his friends, more specifically, you.
But Hyuck's not in town. So a little fun with Mr. Suh wouldn't hurt anyone, correct? After all, you're still only a human with desires and the want to take risks.
You'd always not so subtly drop hints at Johnny and he'd always give you that look that would have slick collecting itself between your thighs. A warning look.
A look that said, "cross the line and you'll get it"
But that's the thing, you want to get it and will do anything to get it.
"Y/n."
You'd ask yourself less than a million times if you want to do this or not.
Sure, you weren't this hesitant when you decided to sext your best friend's father knowingly when he was in business mode to irk him up but that's one thing.
And having to confront the same father who left a message smaller than a sentence that completely disregarded all the obscene text and images to show that he's not the slightest bothered or suprised by your behavior for that matter was another thing.
"Tomorrow at mine."
It's almost as though he deals with hormonal teenagers one as such as yourself on a daily basis and that thought kind of backfired at you considering the whole 'Let's piss Johnny off so that he'd finally give me what i want' agenda.
Ironic, huh?
"Mr. Suh." you start hesitantly, unsure of what to call him, scared of what his reaction would be after your inappropriate shenanigans last night.
Your stiff demeanor broke down a little with just a hint of shiver passing down your spine as you watch his features contort into a subtle but cocky smirk, "So now you're being all formal,"
"Well, what else would you like me to address you as?" you inquire, feigning oblivion to his tone and what he's implying at. "You tell me, doll. You seemed to have a lot of names to call me last night," he takes a step forward, prompting you to walk a step backwards, further into the corridors of his apartment and away from the actual location.
"I do not know what you're talking about.. " you let your voice shrivel towards the end, eyes wandering around the complex, finding interest in every small detail as you avoid Johnny's teasing gaze.
"You don't?" Johnny takes another step forward, latching his hands onto your forearms to prevent you from stepping further away, "You must have had a heavy sleep to forget all that you did last night," his voice drops dangerously low as he begins to walk backwards and back into the safety of his apartment, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you.
"That won't do, would it? How about we take a walk down the memory lane? And see if that rings any bell?" He brushes your hair away from its static position on your shoulder, allowing him to appreciate all those fine details of your shoulders and neck that are exposed from your selection of clothing, an off shoulder.
"How about we don't...?" You ask with skepticism, jolting slightly when you hear the door shut behind you and at the new intrusion of personal space by the lad.
"Why are you acting all shy now, Y/n? Weren't you the one so eager to get into her best friend's fathers pants? Just be the whore you are, darling. Your facade's fooling no one." okay you definitely didn't see that coming.
Johnny's expressions morph into that of mischief as he watches your eyes grow wide and mouth fall ajar, "Am i not correct? Are you not a whore?" he asks with an eyebrow quirked up in a questioning manner.
You don't reply, almost as though the question was meant to linger in the open and that it was a rhetorical one. What you didn't expect, however, was for Johnny's hands to find pursuit around your neck, not necessarily applying pressure, but there as a warning.
"Answer me."
"I'm not.." you answer with a feeble voice, internally cringing at how squeaky you sound which only added to Johnny's amusement.
"Really? Because I don't think good girls go around drooling at a divorced man, her friend's father for that matter and definitely do not send lewd images and voice out their fantasies to a guy twice their age, still want to pretend you're innocent? Or you admit it and we cut down the chase?"
"Yes, I am." you breathe out when his fingers tighten around your neck, a triumphant smile making its way onto his lips. Yet, Johnny felt the need to keep pushing,
"you're what?"
"I am what you said I am," you speak, trying to avoid looking at the scrutinizing look on his face which seemed futile as he had his arms wrapped around your neck, keeping your head in place.
"I want to hear you say it, doll. I need to hear you say it." At this point Johnny's intent was to get you into a flustered puddle in his hold and it sure as hell was going in that direction, seeing how you can't even hold his gaze for more than a few seconds in a shot.
"I am.. I am a who-"
The sound of a phone ringing loud cut you off midway through your sentence, to which you were absolutely relieved. Johnny only seemed to grow annoyed the more he heard the phone ring. With a loud huff, he lets you go, not before giving you a stern look, "Go to my room." he instructed, making his way to the study.
You let out a breath you've been holding in unknowingly the moment he steps away from you. You watch his figure retreat from you with awe, only now realizing how messy you felt between your legs and how your knees keep buckling.
"Oh Hyuck!" you hear Johnny exclaim into the phone the minute you step forward to follow his command.
Your best friend is on call with the guy you're about to fuck.
Your blood runs cold as you shakily make your way into the apartment and towards the bedroom, shrugging off your sling bag, hanging it behind the door as you place your phone on the bedside table to wipe your hands dry from all the sweat that had accumulated at the palm of your hands.
"Yeah, I'm fine, about to eat to my dinner actually" you hear the moment to make yourself comfortable at the edge of the bed, looking over to the door where Johnny stood with his arms across his chest, the other holding up the phone as he leans his weight onto one shoulder, leaning into the doorframe.
You take the time to really appreciate his appearance. He adorned nothing more than a simple grey sweat and tight black tee but he seemed ready to walk down a runway at any given moment now. His long hair, slightly disheveled looking almost intentionally messed up, compliments his features. And oh his features.
The everlasting smirk stayed still on his lips, moving as he exchanged words with his son.
You only come back to your senses when Johnny snapped his free hand in front of you, gaining your attention. He points at his own shirt, then points at you, mouthing 'off' while he listens to Donghyuck speak about whatever he's speaking.
"Really? Jeno said that? Tell him I'm more than willing to welcome him as my gym partner, the lad seems strong" Johnny makes a quick move to remove the gadget from his ear, before holding it in front of him after placing the call on speaker mode
Your eyes widen the moment you hear the disturbance in the background and Donghyuck's voice resonate through the room. "no?? Why would you want to work out with him? He'll only make you feel old, you know?"
"Says the one who still can't beat me at arm wrestling. If anything, i think Jeno would make the perfect gym buddy for me," Johnny raises an eyebrow at your defiance, cocking his head towards the side, staring down at you with a predatory look, "Hyuck, you know, Y/n-" you scramble to take your shirt off at the mention of your name on the call, "-stopped by earlier" he lets out a silent laugh of disbelief.
"Oh? Oh yeah! I'd told her I'd give her book back before I left but I forgot, did you perhaps give it back to her?" Donghyuck questions.
"I figured you must've forgotten so, yeah i did." Johnny replies, pushing himself off of the doorframe, now walking towards you.
"Man, I miss her! I might facetime her after I end the call with you," Johnny sets down the phone beside you on the bed, leaning down, placing both his hands on either side of your lap, finding comfort at the crook of your neck,
"I remember her mentioning something about her cousin coming over? Maybe wait for an hour or so before calling her" his lips graze against your neck each time he spoke, you let out a tiny whimper at the so longed feeling, only to earn yourself a small bite at the earlobe, immediately accompanied by a hand over your mouth, "you need to be quiet, doll. Or my son would find out how much of a slut his best friend is," he whispers in your ear.
"Yeah? Did she mention which one?"
"No, not really, she kinda just stormed out after getting what she wanted" Johnny creates a trail of kisses all the way from your neck to your shoulders, down the collarbone while one of his hand worked to unhook your bra, "Yeah, she's weird like that," you hear Donghyuck let out a chuckle as you whine into Johnny's palm, your figure slightly trembling from the fear of getting caught all the while being excited about the risky situation he's put the two of you in.
"Anyways, I'll call you tomorrow? The boys are coming over now so I got to go! Night, dad!" Donghyuck speaks up again, "Night, Hyuck."
You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Johnny let's his hand drop from your mouth and makes its way towards your hair, brushing through the strands before pulling at it with a firm grip, "I had my son on call and here you are making all these sweet noises, you wanted to get busted, doll?"
"It's not my fault! You-"
"ah-ah! Don't talk back, angel. You're already in deep trouble, don't want to add onto that now, do we?" He makes a swift move to have you lying on your back, your torso completely exposed to him while he remains clothed.
"But Johnny-" you whine, jolting when you feel his hands caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, "How do you think Hyuck would feel about this?" his hands travel further north, cupping your heat from underneath your skirt. "fuck, you're drenched"
"Now tell me, pretty girl, what are you supposed to be calling me, now?"
"Johnny-, tha-that was a joke! I don't have daddy kin-" you try clenching your thighs close from the sudden attention your core was receiving. Johnny wholeheartedly lets out a laugh at your attempt to hide your true feelings, making a quick act of disregarding your soaked panties somewhere behind him.
"Darling, the more you deny it, the longer we keep going at it-" his thumbs at your clit, applying pressure but making no move to quench your needs. You let out a sigh of bliss at the feeling, your back arching off of the sheets at the sensation.
In any other situation, you'd be embarrassed at how sensitive you'd gotten just from all the dirty talking and looks Johnny passed you. But that's the catch, he's Johnny, the only one who can get you this sensitive while doing the bare minimum.
"Say it, Y/n."
"No, Johnny! It's-it's embarrassing.." you plead with your eyes, grinding your hips against his fingers, earning a satisfied, dirty look from the lad.
"Very well.. I'll just draw it out of you"
Without warning, Johnny with little to no resistance, slides two slender digits into your wetness, setting a pace fast enough to draw loud chains of cries from your mouth.
"You hear that, doll? You hear how fucking wet you are? Hm?" he growls animalistically, the thumb that remained on your clit now moving in circles with a motive to get you undone in seconds.
"Johnn-..!" you whine out, feeling your orgasm growing so close that you could almost taste it, "Still going at that, angel?" he questions, not really expecting an answer as he soaks up the pleasured look on your face. "Johnny- I'm close.. -" you fail to notice the mischievous grin growing on his face as he speeds up the movement of his fingers.
"Of course you are, doll" He feels you clench around his fingers, back coming off of the mattress as you ready yourself for your release, waiting until the last minute to draw his finger out.
"Why would you-? Johnn-I was so close!" you cry out as you sense your core clench around nothing, whining about the incomplete orgasm. "Why would I give you what you want when you wouldn't comply, baby? That's not how this works." He shrugs, licking his fingers clean of your essence, moving up from the bed to remove the shirt that seemed to be suffocating now.
"Johnny, please!" you whine louder, rubbing your thighs together to create some sort of friction, all unsatisfactory as it did not meet the same intensity as that of his fingers.
"Please what, doll?" He smirks, knowing the ball is in his court and that you'd had to give in any moment now. Johnny leans down once again, drawing lazy circles at your clit, using his other hand to hold himself up above and close to you, his minty breath which had a hint of coffee fanning your face as you whimper, finally feeling your high building itself up again. "Spit it out, princess, you know you want to." he speaks in a soft voice.
"Please..please" you beg for nothing in particular, getting all worked up again, "The begging's lovely, doll. But you're starting to anger me here, will you say it? Or should I leave you hanging again?"
You mutter prayers under your breath, hoping he wouldn't actually leave you hanging again, "Fine-" he moves again to remove his fingers from you to deprive you of pleasure all over again when you finally latch onto his wrist, keeping his hands in place blurting out, "Daddy! I'm so-sorry.. There, daddy, please make me come" you give in, the name, the feeling and look of pure victory on his face as he grins like a cheshire cat only intensifies the heat growing at a rapid pace at the pit of your stomach.
"Final fucking ly, princess. Daddy will make you feel good" He reinserts his fingers in, drilling it with desperation to see you come undone as he draws rapid circles on your now sensitive clit with the other hand, watching you squirm under him.
"Joh-Daddy i'm coming..!" you cry out weakly as you feel your orgasm hit you with much force, easily driving you into over sensitivity. Johnny's patient in helping you ride out your orgasm, not stopping until you let out a throaty sob and plead him to stop to allow yourself some room to breathe.
Johnny, however, makes no move to stop, only speeding up his fingers, his gaze fixed on where his fingers disappeared inside of you while his other hand held you down with a vise grip, "Give me one more, doll. I know you've got one more in you. " he pants, the feeling of his girth in confinement only throwing himself to sensory deprivation as he feels himself twitch inside his sweats painfully.
You shake your head, tears now flowing elegantly down your cheek, your lips puckered into a slight pout, your eyebrows drawn together as you let yourself melt into the pleasure Johnny was providing you with. "Daddy.."
You whine, feeling your second high reaching you ridiculously quick as you see Johnny's face contort in concentration,
"I need to get you nice and wet for me, princess, you're doing so well. Give daddy another one" you coaxes you with his sultry tone, words and actions, inevitably having you come undone under him for the second time that night.
You let out a choked moan, finally having enough as you curl upon yourself the minute Johnny removes his fingers from you, full fledged crying at the overbearing feeling of sensitivity.
Johnny groans at the sight, leaning down to press a soft peck on your sweaty forehead before getting off of the bed to remove his pants alongside his boxer at a slow speed, granting you some time to recover.
"Condom?" he asks, readying himself to reach into the drawing when he notices you shake your head a no as a reply, "I'm on pills.." you mutter weakly.
You hear him curse out at the thought of doing you raw, flexing his muscles before climbing on top of you again. He takes his time to gently turn you back onto your back, pressing his tender lips against your irritated one for the first time that night, his hand ever so slightly moving to play with your clit once again, making you jerk, "Daddy!"
"Sorry, doll. Daddy just needs to make sure that princess is ready to take his cock"
Your whining intensifies at his words, wiggling your hips to move closer to his own, "But I am ready! Look, daddy! I'm so wet and ready for you!" you whimper, earning a chuckle from the lad.
Just like all the other times that night, he aligns his cock at your entrance without a warning, the tip ever so slightly pushing through your walls, "Alright, big girl. Show daddy how much of a slut you can be for him."
Suddenly, Johnny detaches himself from you, moving further away as he leans by the edge of the door, smirking at you whining at the loss of contact, "Patience, angel"
He grabs hold of your hips, manhandling your body into all fours as he enters you completely with no trouble once he's got you where he wants you to be.
Something about having to take Johnny from behind was so sexy that you could almost immediately feel your orgasm grow, "Fuck baby, keep clenching around me like that and i won't last long," he grunts, moving in you with a steady pace,
"I never expected my son to befriend such filthy sluts like you, Y/n. Look at the mess you're making on my sheets" He grabs a fistful of your ass in a tight squeeze, the sudden shift in his demeanor only serving as a whiplash as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the sweet orgasm.
"Jesus, doll, you're so fucking tight i can barely move" Johnny growls, talking to keep himself from coming too fast.
"Daddy.. I'm close. M-I'm so so close" you cry as your arms give out and you fall face first onto the mattress, the new stretch in your back only encouraging his cock to hit you deeper, finding the sweet cushion that serves as extra pleasure for you.
"Me too, princess, me too.. '' You hear him let out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier as he does you slower but deeper.
He reaches around your body to find pursuit at your clit for the nth time that night, rubbing rapid, messy circles to go with his deep thrusts, "Daddy!" you reach your high with a high pitched cry of his name.
Johnny comes not too long after you as he couldn't resist the constant tight clenching of your walls around his cock. He thrust slowly to ride out his high as you twitch helplessly, face scrunched up in too much pleasure.
You feel your body being manoeuvred onto your side as he whispers sweet nothings which pass right through your ears as you feel him softened inside you, the feeling ridiculously soothing for your used up walls,
"You did amazing, darling." he kisses your temple, not making any move to remove himself from within you, which you silently thanked him for.
You both lay in silence as you turned your body towards him, earning a hiss and a playful smack from him as it added pressure onto his sensitive member. You wrap your arms around his torso, about to nuzzle into his chest and just drift away to dreamland when you hear the familiar ring of your phone from the table beside the bed.
You feel Johnny's body shift to reach out to get your phone, looking at the caller ID before handing it to you with a smirk that you knew meant that he was up to no good. "Oh! It's hyuck" you exclaim in shock, quickly accepting the call and placing it near your ear, moving to get away from him.
But Johnny seemed to have other ideas, as he latched an arm around your torso to keep you from moving, "Hey-" you begin, immediately feeling Johnny experimentally thrust into you again, making you whine, "Y/n! I miss you~-oh hey, are you okay?" you hear Donghyuck's voice from the other side,
You look at Johnny with a pleading and warning gaze to which you earn yourself a toothy grin from the lad,
"Of co-course! Just a little.. peachy,'' You turn around to place a hand on his chest to halt his movement, "You don't sound just peachy.. I've heard you like this before!" you hear Donghyuck make those noises he makes when he's thinking as Johnny keeps thrusting lazily the more you look at him, you see him open his mouth to speak, "Oh fuck! You're getting laid, aren't you???"
"Tell Hyuck daddy says hi"
#nct smut#nct ff#nct au#wayv#nct#johnny smut#johnny ff#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#donghyuck ff#donghyuck smut#haechan smut#suh johnny ff#nct johnny smut#nct preferences#nct preference#nct u smut#nct 127#nct u#nct dream#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#nct oneshot#nct johnny ff#seo johnny ff#seo johnny
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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1
Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.
Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks
Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)
A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.
It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.
Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.
Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.
That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.
"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”
Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.
“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.
“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.
“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”
Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.
“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.
Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.
He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.
In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.
He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday.
“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.
“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.
“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.
“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.
“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.
You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing.
Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.
“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.
“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”
Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.
“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.
“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.
He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.
You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.
You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.
Until now.
The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.
Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.
“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.
“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.
“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”
“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.
“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.
You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.
‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”
Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.
“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.
“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.
He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.
He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.
Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.
“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.
“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”
“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.
“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.
“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”
“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”
Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.
“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.
“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.
Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.
When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.
"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”
“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.
“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”
“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”
Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”
With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.
“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say.
He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.
Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands.
You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.
Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt.
You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder.
That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you.
Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.
“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.
“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”
After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.
“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.
You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.
“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.
It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his.
He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.
“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”
Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.
You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.
This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.
“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.
“Anytime.”
That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.
It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut.
He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.
He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.
Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.
“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”
You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.
“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.
“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.
“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”
Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain.
“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”
“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”
“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”
“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.
“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”
“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.
“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him.
“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”
“Not long enough.”
You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.
“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”
Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”
Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.
“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.
Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.
“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”
Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.
Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.
When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.
He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.
So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.
“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”
And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.
PART 2
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader#draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader#draco malfoy x gryffindor#draco malfoy x slytherin#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco imagine#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy fluff#draco malfoy series#draco malfoy x female reader#harry potter writing#harry potter imagine#harry potter
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hey there queen butterscotch + midnight blue + euphoria <33
Hello, my love! Finally got around to writing something for this lovely prompt. Needed some fluff to get me through the blues of Sunday coming to an end. Enjoy!!
What You Said
“Evans!” She could hear the rush of his breath as he jogged after her, his voice cutting through the crisp night air outside the castle. “Evans, wait, please!”
“What?” Lily whirled around, didn’t bother wiping away the evidence of distress from her face. The tears flew against her cheeks slightly with the wind, sent them splattering against her ear and nose. “What more could you possibly have to say?”
James’s steps slowed as he neared her, breached the boundary of personal space as he gently grabbed onto her cold arms. The warmth of his skin, and only that, kept her from shoving him away immediately.
“Did you mean what you said?” he whispered, gaze bright, inky hair darker than the midnight blue of the November sky. “You—you fancy me?”
“No, I lied.” She turned her head to the side, wished he’d leave her alone to her pathetic state and sniffly nose. “I do that a lot. Pathological liar. Me.”
Two fingers curled under her chin, pulled her eyes back to his. “Lily—” He’d gotten closer, the heat of his body more real than the chill of the night. “Did you mean it?”
Her mouth opened to a pull of shaky breath, to the dizzying scent of James, and she was instantly tumbling; gone; truthful. “I—yes, I meant it.” Another tear rolled down her cheek, and this time, she did brush it away. “But what’s it matter to you anyway? I heard you back there just fine, Potter; carrying on about how we’re nothing more than mates, how you’ve completely moved on from me ages ago, how eager you are to go out and explore new options. Don’t go changing your mind now because of me and what I said. I’m just the idiot—”
“Shut up, Lily.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said—” His jaw clenched, eyes burned. “Shut up.”
And before she had the chance to whip out her wand and hex him into oblivion for being an insensitive prat, his mouth was on hers.
This, Lily supposed, turned out to be much better than the alternative, especially when James wrapped an arm around her waist, slid his hand from her chin to her jaw and into her hair. After an initial nudge of surprised protest that was quick to die out, she clenched onto the front of his fancy robes and opened her mouth on a silent gasp, allowing herself to taste the cold sweetness of butterscotch still lingering on his tongue from the Slug-club dessert. James’s lips grew more urgent on hers, the pressure increasing, drawing out every last bit of sense and logic and breath that she’d ever carried inside her. It felt like a loss worth bearing.
Very, very worth bearing.
“But you said—” She tried getting the words out; failed when he instantly plucked them from her mouth.
“You are an idiot.” He finally pulled back, the space opening up between them only far enough to allow panted breaths to mingle, for James to rest his forehead on hers. She watched, transfixed, and more than a little intoxicated, as euphoric disbelief played plainly over his features. “Evans, about every two weeks, I tell myself that I’m over you, that I’m ready to move on. I’ve been doing it for the past three years now. Sometimes, a miracle happens, and I convince myself that I’ve finally done it. But in the end, no matter how long it takes—” he smiled, closed his eyes, kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m always back to you.”
Happiness ballooned in her chest, so rapid and glowing that she was sure she’d float away like some strange luminescent sphere. “Oh.”
“And you hear it just once and believe me? Merlin, if only it were this easy to convince my mates. At least I’d have been spared all the eye rolls over the years.”
“Shut up, Potter.”
He reeled back comically, a gasp spilling from between smiling lips. “Excuse me?”
Lily pulled him back down to swallow that nonsense.
#claudia writes#claudiawrites#hodgepodge#what you said#jily fluff#jily confession#jily canonverse#jily first kiss#james potter#lily evans#james x lily#jily seventh year#jily drabble#jily ficlet#jily#jily fic
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