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#sorry this is kinda late

nocanonhere · 5 months

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Get To Know My Tav!

Thanks @blackmagickatt this was fun

Tav: Aiya (eye-uh)

High Elf/Draconic Bloodline 🧝🏿‍♀️🐉

Sorcerer 🪄

Urchin background (game definition: …proficiency in sleight of hand and stealth checks, the mark of a lonely but resourceful upbringing)

She/her

Favorite color/dye: swamp green dye

Favorite Weapon: Sword of Life Stealing; very rare shortsword that can deal an extra 10 necrotic damage on a critical hit. Preferred because she does not enjoy killing, and would rather handle a weapon that is guaranteed to make a clean and swift kill than one that bludgeons or makes a target suffer. It’s also green! She carries this along with her other finesse weapon, Crimson Mischief.

Style of Combat: Her demeanor is a good balance between very calm and livewire on fire (potentially her high elf blood and draconic bloodline battling it out). So, depending on the fight, she prefers to handle the perimeter so that the heavy hitters can focus on the worst of the combat; likes to have Astarion do this with her. Will shoot arrows and loves to throw the thorn whip to drag her targets closer and keep them away from her team. But if someone needs help, gets downed (and don’t let it be Wyll), or their target is fighting dirty, she’s switching gears. Misty step her to the center of the conflict; She is calling lightning, throwing fireballs, and using her necrotic weaponry to ensure her targets are falling as fast as possible. The whole room can get it. Don’t piss her off.

Most Prized Possession: The ring Arabella gifted her after she helped locate the girl’s parents. She has a super soft spot for kids, and had attached to Arabella pretty quickly when she was negotiating Kagha out of harming her. She hates the circumstances that have befallen her, but she gave her big hug, barely holding in her own tears, and thanked her for the ring. She whispered to her that pink is secretly a favorite color of hers. It’s more fashionable than functional, but she considers it a good luck token and keeps it in her pack at all times.

Deepest Desire: To belong. Her upbringing was difficult, and she had a tough time connecting with her peers, either being too meek or outspoken. She has friends she cares about back home, but she keeps herself on the edge of any relationship she fosters because it’ll be easier to walk away when the other person inevitably leaves. When she begins meeting the rest of the companions, she is terrified. Not only have they looked to her as a source of leadership, but the more time they spend together, the more she can see herself becoming comfortable with them. She tries to resist, but it’s Karlach’s attitude that loosens her up. Constantly standing on the edge, never too close, never touching, never truly feeling is no way to live. Life has to be seized. Happiness must be made.

Guilty Pleasure: Luxurious baths! Light all the candles, bring a bottle of wine, make some bubbles, pour the aloe, bring the stones for scrubbing. Bathing is spa time. She feels so centered. She often opts to use whatever open body of water they are camping by last for cleaning herself, because she likes to make an event out of it and be alone. And she doesn’t want to make everyone wait on her.

Best Kept Secret: (she has 2) 1. She’s an academic, incredibly interested in statistics and how to observe any population. She partially completed her studies, but was unable to finish. School is expensive, but she also had to take care of herself. Work and school at the same time became too much of a hassle. The reason she doesn’t mention it to any of her companions is because it doesn’t feel relevant to literally any issue they have going on, and Gale intimidates her a little bit. She thinks him a genius, and is unsure how someone of his stature would view the little studies she’s completed. Wine is the friend and enemy, and she gets drunk enough one night that she brings it up. And Gale lights up. He wants to know everything! Has she conducted any studies, what’s her area of focus, how does one best determine how to numerically describe a population. It makes her wonder why she was ever humble about it in the first place. He calls her a genius and her face starts burning.

2. She has a huge crush on Wyll

Greatest Strength: She’s understanding. She’s surrounded by a group of people who have no shortage of problems, and she has never passed judgement. Everyone has their battles and burdens, and it would be hypocritical to act as if she was above it all when she’s just as flawed. But what most people need is a space to express themselves. She’s not very open, but she encourages others to be. They may not all remain friends if they see the other side of this, but she doesn’t want anyone looking back on her and thinking her to have been insensitive or selfish.

Fatal Flaw: She’s too self critical. Understanding, openness, community, love, and pride were for literally everyone else BUT her. She cannot accept a quarter of the attentiveness and kindness she shows others. She’s not worthy of it. It’s a habitual pattern of thinking that her companions are determined to iron out of her. She’s not cursed, she deserves good things too, just like she tells everyone else.

Favorite Smell: The mixture of milk, honey, and vanilla is truly addicting to her. It’s smooth and gentle, and warming it up makes the whole radius smell wonderful.

Favorite Spell/Cantrip: Cloud of Daggers. She will have clouds of daggers all over the battlefield. Don’t piss her off.

Pet Peeve: Complaining. Yes, please express yourself. But also take initiative. Don’t just complain and then refuse to contribute to discussions on how to make a problem better. That’s why she prefers to work alone. And that’s why her and Astarion go a long while before they even begin to somewhat like each other.

Bad Habit: Skin picking. She’s a finger and lip biter. She will tear off her own nails. It’s soothing to her in the moment, but reddened fingers and raw lips always make her regret her behavior in the end.

Hidden Talent: She loves to play piano. The instrument is hard to come by, but one of the taverns she used to work at had one in the corner. It wasn’t polished or tuned, but it worked well enough for her. She’d only play on it when the business closed for the night and the patrons had all left.

Leisure Activity: Books! Let’s read! She loves a good mystery novel, but also enjoys the personalized letters she finds when searching an abandoned building. It’s like reviving that person, in a way.

Favorite Drink: Truthfully, water. She runs a little warm, so cool water is always her go to. Hot, black tea with honey is a second favorite. Her and Halsin are glad when they find out they both like quite a bit of honey in their tea, maybe even a splash of milk. It’s too sweet for others, but it’s perfect to them.

Comfort Food: Any rice dish.

Favorite Person: Wyll, and it’s not just because of the crush. She sees him for who he is and she admires him for it, and she can relate to a bit of it. Her isolation may be more self inflicted compared to his being forced, but the both of them haven’t felt a sense of community and connection in a long time. The circumstances that brought them all together are terrible, but they both enjoy being apart of something that matters. It makes them feel like they matter. She aligns with his morals, she enjoys his quirks, and she definitely finds him handsome, maybe even more so with the horns and markings. She absorbs information best by listening, and his voice is something she’ll never tire of. He also likes books!

Honorable mentions: Halsin, he’s just wonderful and comforting. And Lae’zel. It irritates others, but she adores her passion that most just classify as aggression.

Favorite Display Of Affection: NO PDA for her please, platonic or romantic. If you’re gonna hug her, please ask first and let it be in private. For anyone she sleeps next to, she’s a stomach sleeper. Ask to rub her back, she’ll never say no. It knocks her right out.

Fondest Childhood Memory: These are few in number. But one time, she packed a bag and wandered off to the beach by herself. It was a long walk, but she sat on the shore and watched the waves. She read a book. She had some snacks. She stayed until the sun finished setting and the stars appeared. She got in trouble for being gone from home so long and not telling anyone where she was going. But she’s always kinda loved the ocean. Once she got older, she’d even start going at night, especially when it was storming.

Tagging @thethirdyo but only if you want. No pressure at all.

#get to know my tav #bg3 #about me #sorry this is kinda late #but this was fun #i would like to get a 3d model #of my own tav #like mama #the hair #the eyes #the scales #she’s a beauty #my little snake 🐍

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angelpuns · 5 months

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HAPPY HOLIDAYS ANGEL!!!!

AHHH MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYYSSSSSS OMGOMGOMG

THIS IS SO CUTE WAAAA

#asks #SORRY THIS IS KINDA LATE #AAA SO CUTE THO

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nineteenhjs · 1 year

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[11:59 pm]

you truly don't know when you and hyeongjun had become so old. not literally, but the fact that neither of you could stay up until midnight was hilarious to you. the past three new years had been spent making sure that everything was perfect for your parties. everyone had spent new years at your place, so you were always filled will guilt and excitement. every year you made sure everyone was comfortable, fed, and having the best time. so when hyeongjun suggested that you spend new years eve alone, it was a shock. "but i thought you loved our parties," you pouted. "i do," he says with a gentle smile. "i just know how hard you work for them and i want you to relax this year." your face softens as you listen to him. how had you been so lucky?

and so you let hyeongjun take control this time. he had went out and got snacks and those stupid little glasses with the year on it. he had the tv set up to watch the ball drop and had you snuggled under the blanket with him. you angle your head back to look at him, "we had another amazing year, didn't we?" he giggles as he rubs his nose against yours, "we did."

but as soon as the clock hit 10:30, you were beginning to fall asleep. you were almost fully asleep when you hear him whisper, "y/n?" you hum in response, "hmm? oh, yeah i'm awake." he hums back at you, "you better be, we still have an hour and a half." you give him a quick peck and assure him, "i'll stay awake, promise."

you fell asleep. when you awake you immediately look to the tv. it's playing a rerun of some old sitcom, which can't be good. that means you missed the ball drop, and even the replays after that for different time zones. you reach around for your phone, but try not to wake up the boy sleeping right behind you. you finally find it and when your screen lights up, it reads 3:46. damn. you had promised hyeongjun you would stay up. you immediately turn and look at his sleeping figure. you ghost your fingers over his face, afraid you'll wake him. "happy new year, my love," you whisper and give him the lightest kiss on his cheek. you debated waking him up so you could both move to the bed, but after seeing how comfortable he looked you decided to make the couch your bed for the rest of the night. you wrap your arms around his torso and cuddle into him even further. you're glad you agreed to spend this new years with hyeongjun and hyeongjun only. you couldn't imagine a better way to go into the new year than cuddled up with your favorite boy in the world.

#xdinary heroes #junhan #junhan fluff #junhan x reader #han hyeongjun #xh timestamps #happy new year!!!!#sorry this is kinda late #wrote this so quick bc i have to go to work #but i needed to write something for new years!!!

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isitouawlwednesdayyet · 3 months

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there will be one (or two) episodes of witchlight before it goes on break for a few months!!!

#once upon a witchlight #witchlight live updates #sorry this is kinda late

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cobertaddict · 2 years

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Okay, here comes quite the list, dear friend:

Primrose, lantana, tulip, tea rose, & pansy for the botanical asks, please <3

Thank you very much the ask my dearest friend! ☺️

primrose: what book does everyone right now need to read?

Sometimes I feel like I'm not the perfect person to be asked for such a thing because for a majority of my life I read nonfiction books, specifically biographies or history, and that's not everyone's cup of tea. Anyways, one book I thoroughly enjoy and highly recommend is Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari. I had to read the first few chapters for a college history class and I loved it so much (and was mind-blown several times), I asked for it for Christmas so I can read the whole book. I just love the author's wonderful insights and theories and how he delivers them in such a sarcastic tone. I love the book and it's one of my top favs!

lantana: what’s on your mind right now?

Trying to find ways/ distractions to destress after having a stressful day at work. Perhaps catching up on some fanfics will do the trick :)

tulip: name 5 facts about yourself

I used to live near Palm Springs, but around 7 years old I moved to another town

My MBTI personality type is ISFJ aka the most boring type there is lol

I learned how to ride a bike at 10 years old by my friend's mom... Long story short, I fell in a rose bush and got scraped up pretty good, but this didn't deter my future love of riding a bike :)

I'm the youngest of two, I have an older sister

When I was young, a friend asked me if I could audition with him for the town play, Aladdin. I did not have the courage to tell him no, plus I hoping I wouldn't get any part in the play or if I did, I would be something like tree #2— basically anything that didn't have lines because I'm an incredibly shy person. Well guess what? I got the lead role as Aladdin himself. My younger self was not amused, and so were the boys who auditioned for the role

tea rose: what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

Study abroad. I had the opportunity offered to me twice: one to travel to Germany to further my German speaking & another time in my sophomore year but for a creative writing class in England. But like I said, I'm incredibly shy (and naturally anxious in general), so I declined. My parents tried to convince me otherwise, but I laughed it off by saying I'm too frugal to do such a thing. I have very mixed emotions about not going. But my college career isn't quite done yet, perhaps another opportunity will arise and I'll have the courage to go :)

pansy: do you like poetry?

I don't exactly know how to answer this because I feel like me and poetry got on the wrong foot when I was first exposed to it when I was a young, and being dyslexic did not help 😅. I remember very vividly being in elementary school and having assignments about poetry: reading poems, understanding/ interpreting poetry, creating poems, etc.— all of which I did not perform well in 😅. And I think as a result, little ol' me adopted this "screw poetry😣😭" mentality at the time. Now, I think I feel neutral towards poetry, definitely don't dislike it like I did as a kid. But it's something I don't normally seek out to read or indulge in, but when I do I enjoy it :)

Thank you again for the ask bestie! Now, here's some cobert cuteness for ya! <3

Botanical ask game (x)

#ask game #mutuals #thank you!#sorry this is kinda late #meant to do this sooner but work is crazy atm

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hogwartsfirebolt · 3 months

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the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco��s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming #kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok #I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my writing #mywriting

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sepheroth · 2 years

Note

[ CHALLENGE ] //Yuna, somethingxgreater

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. It'd come unexpectedly. While this was nothing of the sort for him to reject, he fully and wholly welcomed the challenge. In certain ways as it had greeted him, Sephiroth ought to not have received this as such. It couldn't have been because he liked the sudden and unexpected kiss for as much as it is forceful. Lungs were as much as taken captive as his lips were. Wrists were taken, pinned under the restraint of the determination of the summoner's exchanged force, his eyes had once momentarily open to as well stand and lay claim to witnessing her achievement. He's seen this as his own triumph. His neck having been craned to only further extend and reach her from her height and to be able to further his ability to prolong and strengthen the kiss. For as much as his lungs and lack of oxygen would allow. But that inevitably would not have lasted. While Yuna had used the roofs of his boots to further leverage herself upward for what he assumed that would be fore sole purpose of reaching him. Secretly, he found it adorable, but by no means at all, he hadn't intended to discredit her efforts. Those were well received and appreciated. As much as he had wanted and wished it to, his throat, chest strung from the need from air. Given from her brief pause, both Sephiroth and his lungs thanked her before he was able fervent pace kisses resumed.

#cardigansandearlgrey #sorry this is kinda late #Bow your head if you wish to keep it: IC asks

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