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afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin · 5 years

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Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Honestly, this is, and I’m not lying, kind of FLUFFY WHAT?!

A/N: These two. I just… wow. I really like them ok? Also, I like thinking about fun quirks or hobbies Bucky may find himself being drawn to after everything. Little frivolous things that bring some happiness into his life and space.

I just hope y’all enjoy these tender moments. ♥️

(This is a repost because tumblr is stupid and somehow the link or something in the original is corrupted. I apologize for the double ((or triple idek what’s happening at this point)) notification tag list folks.)

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder–harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter

Even though the elevator ride to his apartment is short you’re already dozing a bit in his arms. Your face half buried in his chest, softly breathing, though your expression is far from relaxed.

Once inside he gently sets you on the couch, laying your head on a throw pillow and tucking the thick blanket around you. In just a week you’d lost mass, he could feel bones where he had been unable to feel or see them when you’d last been here.

Your power, he knew, meant you needed to stay well fed because it could drain your body, pulling from your own metabolism to keep running. From what he could tell it had been running for the past week.

You groan a little and reach for him. A sad smile rises on his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” he strokes your forehead pressing a kiss to the crease there, “just rest a second. Nothing is gonna get through me, you’re safe.” This seems to work as your forehead smooths a bit and your hand relaxes.

“Sargent Barnes,” Jarvis pipes up quietly once Bucky is in the kitchen. “I do not want to impose but I have noticed Ms. Y/L/N’s distress for days. She has not granted me permission to request any additional aid on her behalf.”

“Not shocking,” Bucky says looking over at you.

“I will continue to heed her wishes as long as her life is not in immediate risk. However, she is massively undernourished, if she goes another day without eating in her condition I will be forced to notify medical per my programming.”

“I understand, Jarvis. Thanks.”

“May I suggest a light soup and an electrolyte fortified beverage? I worry her system cannot handle much else.”

“Good call.” He opens the pantry to find a can of chicken noodle.

“That would be most excellent I believe. I will have one of the bots bring the beverage for her.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bucky isn’t much of a cook but thankfully he can manage a can of soup. Just before it’s done Dum-E slips in quietly with a basket from the main kitchen with bottles of Pedialyte. He pats the weird bot on the head, always viewing it like a friendly dog more than a machine, and it lets itself out.

He brings the soup to the coffee table and gently tries to wake you.

“Y/N,” he shakes your shoulder gently, “I know you’re tired but I need you to wake up for just a few minutes.” Nothing. “Doll? Come on, wake up for me.” Another shake.

With a gasp, you shoot up, frantically looking around the room, tendrils of light snaking every which way under your skin. Bucky grabs your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice is kind but stern, he needs you to hear him. “Look at me, Y/N.” You do finally and the light comes on, he can feel you relax in his grip.

Moving a strand of hair from your face he says, “Sorry, I know you need sleep, but you’ve got to try and eat something.” Your head sort of falls to the side rather than turn to see the soup on the table behind Bucky, brows knit.

“You don’t have to eat much, just something. Ok?” You nod, eyes fluttering a bit. For a second he’s worried he’s going to have to feed you, worried you’re that far gone, but you pull your self together and reach for the bowl. He hands it to you and surprisingly you make it through half.

“I can’t,” you say handing it back.

“That's ok,” he takes it. “Here,” he hands you the Pedialyte standing to take your bowl to the kitchen. “Sip this.”

You smile a bit, “So bossy,” you say looking up at him. A genuine smile fills his face, you had said that the night you were together. He strokes the side of your face and heads into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, he sits at the end of the couch as you drink what you can. You set it down, shaking your head.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.” You look up at him, terror on your face. “I’ll be with you. If you want me to be.”

“Please,” you say, your voice less hoarse than before. He nods and holds out a hand. You stand a little more steadily and make your way to his room.

He gives you a shirt and a pair of boxers to change into assuming you don’t want to sleep in your gym clothes. While you’re in the bathroom he changes too, into pajama bottoms and turns the bed down. When you come out he has to force himself to not gawk. For some reason, you look incredible in his shirt and boxers. He swallows hard.

“I guess this will make three pieces of clothing I need to get back to you,” you say, voice sounding steady. Good.

“I’ll send you an invoice,” he says taking a few steps toward you. Tenderly he caresses your arm, “Come on.”

In the bed, you immediately curl against him and he holds your right hand in his left pressing it to his chest.

He thinks you’re just about asleep when you say, “Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

“You meant it earlier right?” He doesn’t respond, “Your promise…”

His heart aches, “I did.”

“You’ll kill me, then.”

He won’t lie, “No.” You shoot up and stare at him, betrayal on your face. He’s unfazed and just cups your face in his right hand. “I’ll kill you if you’re about to lose control, I told you that the other night. But Hydra… anyone else… they won’t ever get close enough to you for it to matter.” His tone shifts cold and certain, “Ever.”

You stare at him for a minute before that sinks in, just how much he means it, what exactly it means. That he would take on anything to protect you from becoming someone else weapon again, anything.

You nod and in a flash your lips are on his. His hand is still hovering in the air where your face had been before it slowly rests on the back of your head. He lets this go on longer than he should he knows, you need rest, but he can’t help how good it feels to feel your lips on his, to have you in his arms.

Eventually, you sit up, leaning against his chest, looking down into his face, “Thank you.”

[Reader]

Your head is throbbing and your mouth feels like a damn desert. Logically you knew you weren’t fully out of the woods. This bout of trauma wrecked you, body and soul. Even so, you feel more human than you had for days. It was a start.

Bucky’s warm presence behind you feels something like comfort. You can’t tell if he’s awake but you press even closer to him, the weight of his right arm across your torso grounding. Reacting to your movement his hand flexes, laying flat on your stomach, holding you tight against him.

“Hey there,” the warmth of his breath on the back of your ear sends tingles all over your body. He begins to lift his arm and move but you grab it, holding him in place, not ready for him to let go. Immediately he settles back down and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Ugh, your hair was filthy, not that he seems to mind.

“Hey,” you rasp, voice almost as cracked as your lips.

“Excuse me,” Jarvis intones. “I’m very sorry to intrude but I have an urgent message from Mr. Stark informing you both that you need to be in the conference room in two hours. I didn’t want to wake you.” Bless Jarvis.

“You can tell Mr. Stark to go fuck himself,” Bucky snaps, his body tensing.

“Don’t tell him that Jarvis,” you sounded like a pack a day smoker.

“I had no intention to.”

You turn in Bucky’s arms to face him, “What the hell?”

His face is a mask of concern, “Whatever they need can wait. You’re not in any condition-“

“I can handle a conversation Bucky,” probably… “I mean… they gave us almost a week. That’s more than fair…”

“No.” His tone says there’s no argument here and your brows raise, “You need rest.”

Gently you move a few stray strands of hair from his face, “So do you,” the circles under his eyes were still dark.

He takes your hand in his and kisses your palm, “I’m ok, doll.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “we’re both far from ok. They deserve to know why.” He knows you’re right and sighs heavily before kissing your forehead.

“Ok.” He squeezes you tight before sitting up cross-legged on the bed.

As he leans forward you can’t help but ogle the way the muscles in his back move. If you weren’t so cotton-mouthed right now you’re not certain you wouldn’t be drooling. Sex drive had to be a good thing right?

Slowly, you sit up, not wanting to set the room spinning and kiss his back before laying your cheek on the warm flesh there. He hums a little, contented sound, reaching back to grab your hand.

“What if we have them come here?” His low voice vibrates through his torso.

“Here?”

“Yeah. Or your place. I just… if they wanna talk we can talk but they’re gonna come to you where you can be comfortable and…”

“I’m not in danger from them, Bucky.” The look on his face tells you he doesn’t trust that. It’s understandable, his concern.

Before, in Hydra, your display with him would have been grounds to be wiped and iced. You sigh heavily, “My place is… not currently fit for other people…” That was putting it lightly. Five days of depression, no sleep, and fighting the storm in your head meant it was just as wrecked as you were.

“They can come here, it’s fine,” he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ok,” you pull away from him and run your fingers through your greasy hair. “I’ll head up and shower then-”

“No,” he says shaking his head, “you’re going to have some breakfast before you do anything.” You glance at the clock, it’s 12:30pm. “Brunch, whatever,” he says with a smile.

The thought of food makes your stomach growl, “Actually not going to fight you there.”

Bucky makes you simple eggs, dry toast, and water per Jarvis’ suggestion before getting in the shower himself. Surprising yourself, you manage to eat it all and don’t want to throw up. Progress. When he comes out, you’re loading the dishes into the washer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, drying his hair, looking better than he had any right in his navy henley and grey sweats.

“Wanted to feel useful,” you say with a shrug. He comes into the kitchen and pulls you to him, smelling like that tea tree shampoo and toothpaste. This whole thing is so weird. Maybe weird is ok though…

“Just shower here, I’m sure I’ve got something you can wear,” his lips press against the crown of your head. You nod against his chest, “You not fighting me is a strange change of pace,” his voice is tinged with humor.

You shrug, the side of your face still pressed to him. “Don’t want to face my apartment yet is all...”

His left-hand takes your chin and tilts your face up, “That’s ok.” The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, “You’re welcome here as long as you like. When you’re ready I can help you get your place up to code… if you want.”

A laugh bursts from you and his brows knit in concern. “A little over a week ago I was thinking of ways to kill you. Now…” Your laugh swallows the rest of that statement.

“Now maybe you’re glad you didn’t?” He asks with a smirk. You cup his face and rise up a bit on your toes to press a quick kiss on his lips.

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck though,” you say with a wink.

He shakes his head, smiling, “Go shower.”

Stepping back from him your hand rises to your chest, “Are you saying I’m dirty?!”

He laughs, “No. I’m saying, you’re greasy. But we could work on dirty later if you want.” A devious smile lights his face and his tongue flits across his bottom lip.

You can’t help the huge smile that stretches it’s way across your own face and you playfully smack his chest as you walk past him, “Dick.”

Another laugh tumbles from him. You’re a few steps away when you feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back tight against his torso. His face is pressed against yours, his short beard tickling the skin on your cheek. You hold on to his forearms and lean into the embrace, letting the comforting feeling of him wash over you.

“I’ll put some clothes on the bed,” he says next to your ear, “and deal with Stark. Take your time.” With that, he kisses your cheek and releases you.

You sit on the bench in the shower and let the steam engulf you. The heat may relax some but for you it’s a boost, sending a low hum of energy thrumming through you, clearing your head. It’s a good thing too. There’s a feeling in your gut that this is going to be a fairly unpleasant conversation.

Sighing you stand, you’ve been in here long enough to be a touch pruney. Your muscles still ache from being tense with constant adrenaline for days and your legs shake just a bit but you’re miles ahead of where you were last night. It sinks in a bit just how close to the edge you were. If Bucky hadn’t come in… would you have lost it? And if you had…

Pushing the thought from your mind you shut the water off and reach for the plush towel. Your reflection in the mirror is, disheartening, to say the least. Hopefully, the hollowness in your cheeks and the purple under your eyes would tell enough of the story for you when everyone came in with their questions. You roughly dry your hair and find a hair tie in a drawer to toss it into a messy bun.

On the bed, Bucky has left you a pair of drawstring sweats and a hoodie, both in his favorite midnight blue color. They’re just big enough to be oversized but it’s so comfortable to be surrounded by warmth and his smell. Your eyes ache to close.

Bucky’s in the kitchen, setting out mugs and the smell of coffee fills the air. You were certain coffee wouldn’t be on Jarvis’ recommended list of nutrients for you at the moment but you’re feeling sleepier by the minute. If they want you to make it through this you’re going to need that boost.

“That smells like everything I need right now,” you hop onto one of the metal barstools by his island. He doesn’t question you and pours a large cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Black.” Your fingers curl around the mug he hands you, it has the Brooklyn bridge on the side, one of those things you find at gift shops all over the city. It’s now that you realize all the mugs are different.

Some like this one are souvenirs, a Broadway mug with comedy and tragedy masks, one from the Met with a Monet on the side. There are a few that look vintage, from the 70’s maybe. Others are novelty mugs. There’s one that looks like a camera lens, one says “Get Shit Done” on the side, another is shaped like a donut. You can’t help but smile.

He notices you looking, “I… uh, like mugs I guess.” Awkwardly he runs a hand through his hair. “Figured coffee would be good. My… my ma always made coffee when people came over…”

Your heart may actually burst. “You’re cute,” you say sipping what is actually an exceptional cup of coffee. He snorts and pours his own cup, this one with “Rocket Fuel” on the side and the NASA logo.

“Come on,” he heads into the living room. You hadn’t noticed he’d pulled his dining room chairs in here to accommodate the others. “There’s still a bit before they get here.”

Plopping onto the couch he hits play on the remote sitting on the side table, old jazz fills the space. Unsure where to sit you stand awkwardly between the kitchen and living room weighing your options.

“Psst,” he quips from the couch, you meet his gaze. A smile fills his face and beckons with his left hand. You take a tentative step in his direction, “The big chairs are comfortable too if-”

“No,” you say as you set your mug on the coffee table and sit next to him. His left arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. You lay your head against his chest and immediately feel your body relax. “This is perfect.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #soft bucky

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beauumont · 5 years

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( ♡ ❛ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗶𝘀-𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲, 𝘀𝗵𝗲/𝗵𝗲𝗿 ) oh hello, you must be 𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 it’s so nice to meet you. is it true that you’re a 𝟏𝟕 year 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 student and in your SIXTH YEAR? i should warn you, rumour has it you’re pretty 𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 & 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 but i think you’re really 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐓 & 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐓 - people like to gossip around here, but you’ll find out for yourself. let me show you to 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ HELLO THERE !! my name is evie, im 9teen and i live in the gmt timezone,, also kim jisoo and dylan o'brien are the lomls.. im so excited for this roleplay and getting to know u all!! buut, enough about me.. its time to introduce u to the queen of eXtRa,, poppy beaumont !!

TW -- drugs !!

♡.･ﾟBACKSTORY

poppy beaumont was raised and born in london, england on july 28th 2002 to annalise beaumont and french man, louis beaumont. due to her poppy’s dad owning an extremely popular pharmaceutical company known across the globe, she has grown up surrounded by money. as a result of this, she has always been super spoiled and materialistic from a young age. due to having french grandparents, she frequently visits paris whenever she has the chance. being poor is probably her worst fear,, (4real just the thought of it kinda makes her cry)

poppy is a total daddy’s girl. well, up until poppy found out all of his shady secrets that put her family at risk. (well tbh, she only cares if shes at risk but sksk) by eavesdropping on several phone calls and using her sneaky ways, poppy found out her dad was a drug kingpin and gambler. however, louis was unaware that she found out about all of this.

shes like hella pissed about this because her aunt passed away from a drug overdose and she doesn’t understand why her dad is doing all of this.. she doesn't like drugs as a result (though shes kinda surrounded by them).. shes been acting out ever since finding out about it since she doesnt know what to do,, shes scared about being bankrupt because she knows how fast shit like this can go wrong,, and she’s mad.. so shes hella rebellious rn so, shes not on great terms with her dad anymore rip.. like once she purposely got caught making out with one of her dads colleagues,, u kno.. those kinda things.

on the other hand, she never had a good relationship with her mom bc poppys mom criticizes her constantly. this only leads to explosive fights between the two because of how abrasive poppy is,, they barely talk and her mom is kinda sick of how childish the girl is,,

♡.･ﾟPERSONALITY

- abrasive: poppy has no care for the feelings of others. if you're getting on her nerves she will probably tell you and she's not afraid of doing so. shes hella extra and dramatic so most things piss her off tbh sksk.. she can also get pretty competitive and confrontational. if something doesn't go her way, shes genuinely not afraid to cut a bitch. she will ALWAYYYSSS hold grudges over like,, over the stupidest shit. (deep deep DEEP deep down inside she has a soft side but like,, no one has seen it yet ♡) - materialistic: due to being spoiled, poppy is obsessed with money. she loves buying new designer clothes with her dads money,, she also loves flaunting her money in front of those who may be less fortunate.. (also as i said before her phobia is literally being poor i--) + adroit: poppy is super intelligent. after all, she found out about her dads secret life all by herself (sis is kinda like a sneaky spy??) but, in regards to school -- she's a total science nerd. she loves chemistry and excels in any kind of science subject. though, she doesn't really display that nerdy side of her too much. shes only in the science club because her parents forced her to be.. (*cough* they didnt) + flamboyant: poppy is a confident girl who strives to be the centre of attention. that is exactly what attracts people to her. she has a passion for performing so, she is also into acting, dance and singing.

♡.･ﾟADDITIONAL INFORMATION

-- in terms of poppy's sexuality, she's just been with guys so far but, she would probably be up for exploring what she likes more!! so i guess she would be bicurious♡

-- her star sign is leo (this may or may not change idk but, i feel like it suits her for now!!)

-- her favourite colour is black because it goes with everything and she looks good in it,,

-- akskks ill add more additional facts in her future bio lOL

this is just what i have so far for poppy,, ill probably work on her actual biography in a little but, heres the main stuff i have for her so far!! if you wanna plot please hmu on tumblr or discord (eviekins#003).. im open to anything and im v friendly i promise uwu (ill post wanted connections in a bit once i think of a few more!!)

#tw drugs #bmhq.intro #IM SO LATE UH #sorry x #♡ ❛ 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 –– evie.#♡ ❛ 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 –– introduction.

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elixirsoflife · 6 years

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across seasons and seas

@inekepp

HAPPY BIRTHDAY INEKE!!

i’ve actually been planning this present for a while... i got the idea a few months ago, started it, stopped it when my muse flaked out on me and recently completed it (as of 23rd sept) just in time to spring it upon you. to my soulmate and the person who hyped dormitory 2.6a to a whole new level, here is a brand new novus one shot for you ^.^ <333

(i can’t guarantee it’s any good lmao)

(also bc you are a beast at validating on hpft, i had to upload it onto tumblr first)

"It can only be true love when you enable your other half to be better, to be the person they're destined to be." - Michelle Yeoh

PRÓLOGOS

It starts like this.

With a party in a cosy common room. The lights are dim, and the music is loud, and there are bodies everywhere, too many to count. There's a brief parting of the crowd, a glimpse of one tipsy girl's heartfelt laughter, and a momentary appreciation for the more beautiful things in life.

(Al stops. He stares.)

It starts with the party and then it stutters as the school year gives way to the summer holidays and Al forgets all about Nova Hale and her pretty little laugh.

(Elijah tackles him without warning. The trance he's in shatters as he hits the ground.)

♥

In sixth year, the engine groans to life again, hesitant at first - and then as the Scottish air rapidly chills, everything switches into fifth gear. Whatever is slowly blooming to life between the pair picks up speed, hurtles through the corridors of Hogwarts like drag racers along lamp-lit streets. One moment, Nova Hale is a mere classmate and the next, she's the star of his dreams.

(He's sixteen years old, months shy of his birthday, and he thinks he's in love.)

Loving Nova Hale is easy.

Granted, her friends are without a doubt her immediate concern at all times and she shies away when his hands are a little too familiar in public. But the smiles she offers are soft and sweet, like he's her entire world, and the way her cheeks darken makes his heart sing. Her laughter comes easily and her kindness quickly follows suit and her pinkie links delicately with his whenever they stroll through the courtyard.

They argue over each other's priorities and they're in love.

Exams drive them to the edges of their sanity and they're in love.

The wizarding world barges into their personal bubble the second they leave Hogwarts and they're still in love -

But sometimes love simply isn't enough. And the fact is that Nova has never been great with attention in the first place while Al's surname and dream career greedily sucks it all up like a black hole. Their regrets are countless and their tears are earnest, but in the end, they agree –

It ends like this.

♥

(Months earlier, one hundred and sixty seventh years loitered on the grass near the Black Lake, reluctant to clamber into the boats that first brought them there. Al remembers looking at the girl beside him, the way she tugged on the tassles of her graduation cap, and thinking that, though things will inevitably change, he knows she will always be a constant in his life.

He thought wrong.)

EPISODE ONE

Life without Nova Hale isn't necessarily life without Nova Hale.

There are a couple of months that immediately succeed the break up and though it wasn't messy, it still hurts. He sees her in Diagon Alley, snowflakes melting on her cheeks, and he wants. It's intense and sharp, far more powerful than the puppy adoration from those early days in sixth year when he didn't know the sweetness of her mouth or the press of her arm against his. And quite frankly, it’s…

It hurts.

Strictly speaking, their lives do not intersect much. Without him, there's no reason for Elijah or Adam the Puff or even Scorpius to go out of their way to contact her so there's little risk of Nova tumbling into his life without warning. But Al’s also good friends with Alice and good… something or the other with Dahlia, who both carry with them a constant reminder of everything he's lost whenever he sees them. So life without Nova Hale isn't necessarily life without Nova Hale, even when she abruptly leaves England with a backpack choking with clothes and a pouchful of Galleons, off to travel the world.

(Even when she's somewhere in the middle of Asia, sun on her back and skin darkening to honey, she remains in the peripheries of his existence. Sometimes he thinks that'll never change.)

Life without Nova Hale is –

Gruelling practices where he's run into the ground, thighs sore from clamping around a broomstick for hours on end. Days begin with the sun rising over Montrose and a quick trip to The Harpy for a coffee to wake him up. They end with a hot shower, maybe a night out to the pub with the boys, or crashing at someone's place for the evening. Life is a crappy flat he shares with the reserve Keeper, Ahmad, and Al’s brother – who technically doesn't live with them but can never be found elsewhere. It’s downing chocolate quaffles straight from the cereal box in lieu of an actual breakfast and then having his dad pinch his waist and reprimand him for not eating more.

It’s waking up one day and realising that it's getting a lot easier to breathe again.

(He's pissed out of his head on Firewhiskey when he realises he is no longer in love with Nova Hale. Nothing will scrub away the fondness he regards her with or make her less beautiful in his eyes, but he can accept that. He's moved on. He's moved on.)

♥

Months fly by and his career takes off with them.

Sure, Al's young and inexperienced compared to the big stars of the league, but he's also somewhat of a prodigy when it comes to Quidditch. Passion meets a keen eye when he circles the pitch on his broom; enthusiasm collides with his natural Slytherin instinct to strategise down to every last possibility. He complements this by training furiously and it shows.

Quidditch magazines all over Britain and Western Europe note his performance, the way he elevates the Magpies to even higher ranks. In the meantime, gossip rags note his blossoming relationship with enemy Seeker of the Falcons, Briar James, when they’re seen together a handful of times over the duration of several weeks before they go finally public.

RIVALRY FOR THE SNITCH, ROMANCE OFF THE PITCH, screams Witch Weekly when the news breaks out.

("I will honestly murder you," screams Dahlia Darzi instead.

Alice helpfully points out that it's been nearly a year since the Incident and that Nova herself is in the midst of a whirlwind romance somewhere in the depths of St Petersburg. Dahlia tells her to fuck herself.)

So for a time, life without Nova Hale is a life with Briar James, with her tight afro and her big doe eyes. It's impromptu matches of football in a half-empty Muggle park and pancakes on Sunday mornings and being labelled Briabus by their adoring fans. It's beer on Friday evenings and sex on Saturday mornings and accented English venomously spitting his name over an intense game of Mario Kart.

It’s being moonstruck and happy again.

But then that too fades away and Al is left - well, not heartbroken, not really, but certainly rather upset because he really did like Briar. She was relaxed and easy-going, just as down to re-enact her favourite WWE wrestling moves as she was to tug Al’s jumpers over his head. Time with her was like a hall full of floating candles: bright and pretty. It's a shame they eventually snuffed out.

STASIMON

Nova Hale returns from Europe on a slow Sunday afternoon. They meet in The Harpy, Al walking out of the bathroom to find her on his seat at the counter, sipping on his white chocolate mocha. A million disjointed thoughts fly through his head when he sees her, but he settles for a quirk of his lips and clears his throat.

"Shouldn't you ask me out before you steal my coffee?"

She chokes on it, eyes blown wide as she turns sharply in his direction. There's an eased slant to her shoulders and a new air of confidence that clings to her, scavenged all the way from the far reaches of China, but her cheeks burn as red as always.

"I - I," she stammers, glancing between Al and the drink in her hands. Finally, her eyes settle on the smug smirk of her friend behind the counter. "You said this was for me!"

Dahlia shrugs without care. "Oops."

"Oh my god." Nova closes her eyes, mortified. "I honestly hate you."

"My life is complete."

"Good, now I won't feel bad about ending it," comes the retort before Nova turns to Al with a much gentler expression. Sheepish, she holds out the white chocolate mocha. "Sorry about that, I genuinely didn't realise. Here you go – or, never mind that, I'll buy you a new one if you'd like?"

He's already shaking his head. "No, I'm alright," he says not unkindly. Indulging in a small smile, he adds, "You probably need it more than me anyways. I hear travelling to half the countries in the world takes a lot out of you."

Nova returns the smile with one of her own. It's not nearly as lovestruck as it once was, but it's pretty all the same. "Not nearly as much as winning the Quidditch League," she replies and takes a fresh sip. The slant of her eyebrows is friendly and teasing over the lid.

"Ah. So you heard about that."

"Kind of hard not to," she confesses. "You're pretty big news, Albus Potter. The leagues love you."

On the surface, he preens under her compliments, pleased as ever to hear them. He's worked damn hard to get where he is, alright, and he deserves to accept some praise sometimes. But underneath that, beyond his teasingly arrogant response that of course he's big news and what else did you expect, Hale?, there's a moment of understanding between them.

Once they fell apart because of camera flashes and Quidditch robes. It was a struggle between wanting forever together and wanting their dreams - and now, over a year later, they can admit that they chose and chased the right option.

No matter how much it hurt at the time.

EPISODE TWO

Their story starts in a common room with Firewhiskey clouding their minds and the very edges of their worlds brushing. Then it hiccups, takes a quick detour over the summer, before hurtling down the motorway at ninety miles an hour. And then half a year after their childhood has drawn to an end, it stalls.

A season shy of two years later, it hums back to life again.

It happens like this.

♥

Italy's night sky is a dark blue overhead when Al sneaks out of his hotel. The past handful of days have been spent on Asinara as the wizarding world clamours around a glorious Quidditch stadium far from prying Muggle eyes. Country after country has played passionately, losing or rising to glory. And for the first time in a long time, England is storming ahead towards the World Cup.

The feeling is heady and exhilarating. Somewhere in the past, a twelve-year-old Albus Potter gazes at him in awe, trailing a wondrous finger over the number on the back of his robes. He's here; he's made it. He's finally reached the distant goal he set the second he made it onto the Slytherin Quidditch team.

There's a thrumming in his veins, faint and electric, a restlessness that begs to be dispelled. He apparates hundreds of miles away from the team’s accommodation to a fountain in the Eternal City and recalls a memory from years ago. Remembers the solidness of Nova Hale in his arms, the grandeur of the Trevi Fountain, the coin they tossed in for good measure.

He remembers being so wholeheartedly in love with this one girl.

It's been a little under two years since they went their separate ways. In that time, they've loved and known other partners, stitched together the hurts that lingered on their skin. They've avoided each other, ran away to different continents entirely, and then stood face to face and finally accepted that things have changed.

(The tricky thing about first loves, however, is that they never truly go away. As much as Al tries to kid himself, there's always a part of him that yearns to tuck himself into Nova's side and hide away.

As the months after her return draw on, that part of him grows.)

But here, here in front of this massive monument, the days of his youth burned into the back of his eyes, the acceptance of their situation seems to unravel. The night whispers of regression, of old things rising anew. He looks at the Trevi fountain and once more wants with a ferocity he hasn’t felt in a long while. Not since that winter they broke up.

He hears her footsteps before he sees her face. Hears her voice before she shifts out of the shadows and into view.

"Al?" Nova calls out softly across the courtyard. When their eyes meet, she breaks out into a hesitant smile, slowly drawing closer. "Fancy seeing you here."

Perhaps her presence there should be a little more jarring, a tad bit questionable. After all, as of a few weeks ago, Nova was still in England, scribbling away at the Quibbler. At most a month before that, she was in South America with his Aunt Luna, describing the sublime with words and painting a compelling picture with her articles. And now she's here in little old Italy by his side as they gaze up at the fountain once more.

It isn't.

Jarring, that is.

The last time he was here, it was with her. Back then, his arms were around her waist, fingers interlocking where they met - his chin on the top of her head, eyes drowsy as he absorbed the sight. Something in the quiet air whispered that there were far greater things than them at work here. Such intimacy can therefore only be shared with her; it makes sense for her to appear now.

"I couldn't sleep," he replies at last. His hands bury deep into his pockets. "Figured I should take a trip down memory lane."

Nova mimics his position and stuffs her hands into the silk depths of her coat with a sigh. It's not a particularly sad sigh, but Al struggles to place the emotions that lace it. Longing, maybe? Wistfulness? Or maybe that’s just him.

"Me too," she admits quietly. Her eyes are bright with soft gold lights and distant memories. "Luna brought me along to do a piece on Italy since the World Cup's here and I thought I might as well come here for old times' sake?" Her voice rises in a question at the end as if she's not sure whether it's okay for her to be there while he is. As if she’s an intruder on a private moment when the truth is, she’s the star of it all.

"I guess the coin worked then,” is what Al voices instead.

It takes her a moment to understand his words, but when she does, Nova lets out a surprised laugh. "I forgot about that!" She bats softly at his arm. "Maybe there really is magic going on here then, like all the rumours say. Sure feels like it, don’t you think?"

Al can't help but smile at her. No matter how many years it's been since their last visit, Nova's joy in the face of such grandeur has never diminished in its loveliness. A poet could write sonnets about it, he thinks. An artist could immortalise it in vivid sunsets. The sound of it, the sight - it makes him feel so, so warm.

"Since we're already here," he murmurs, "do you wanna see if anywhere's still open?"

When Nova looks at him, it's with very shrewd eyes. He can see puzzle pieces slot into place in her mind, conclusions being drawn in white chalk against midnight boards, decisions being made. But at last, she offers him her own smile - gentle and indulgent, a little nostalgic too - and cocks her head to one side.

"Lead the way."

♥

High school sweethearts rarely ever stay together. Did you know that? Hogwarts is not a microcosm of the wider world – and so, Al and Nova did not know how to function without the crutch of those castle walls. Life commanded them in different ways, tugged them to separate directions. Al flew up to Montrose, a stadium full of magpies calling his name, and Nova? Well, she travelled everywhere in the end.

Even when she officially returned to England, several countries under her belt and a year after they split ways, she was restless. A true child of wanderlust, she eventually signed up for a job that meant she was always on her feet, returning to town only to Portkey back out again. The Quibbler was more than happy to take her on as Luna’s travelling companion, her vivid descriptions of exotic locations partnered with the older woman’s magizoological finds. Both parties have never looked back since.

Such busy schedules have meant that neither Al nor Nova have had the proper chance to rebuild a genuine relationship beyond standard niceties. Meant that their conversations have always hovered on the strange edge between polite warmth and flirty friendliness, enough attraction lingering between the exes to charge their interactions with an indefinable energy that is never addressed.

That night in Italy quickly unravels into much more.

A catch-up over Butterbeer dissolves into a conversation about old memories, happiness pouring from their tongues and shoulders shaking with its force. As they talk, their ankles are familiar underneath the table, brushing up against each other every so often. And the spark of tension that hovers between them, even years later, rapidly flickers into something much less tentative.

They're not drunk.

Not when Nova laughs so hard she collapses against his arm. Not when they stay in the bar long after their glasses are drained to the last drop. Not when they leave their seats and linger on the cobblestones outside, reluctant to leave for their beds. Not when Al's fingers trace along her wrist and then flutter against the curve of her waist inquiringly – and not when she steps into his embrace as the world blurs around them.

They're not drunk. At least, not on alcohol.

Maybe on this feeling though. This oblivion that wipes all comprehension from Al's mind save the sweetness of honeysuckle kisses from Nova's mouth. Maybe off the pressure of ten fingers on his shoulders and sweat sticking to his back and his heartbeat racing, racing, racing behind the safety of his ribs. Maybe on the way he breathes her name and she murmurs his and how the world seems to align perfectly once again.

♥

(The next morning, his coach’s thunderous knock on his hotel room door startles Al out of his sated slumber. He jerks awake to see Nova still there, face puffy and eyelashes clamped tight. She flips over, a pout pressed against the base of his throat.

"Do we have to get up?" she whines. "Because if so, I think we should stage a protest."

Butterflies swoop in his stomach when she says we instead of you. His fingers intertwine with hers. She holds his hands like she doesn't plan on letting go.)

STASIMON II.

This is a story, did you know?

In the beginning, it starts like this: at a party in a common room underground. A boy sees a girl laugh across the room and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. That summer, he forgets that he forgot how to do that - until sixth year arrives and he falls in love with that laugh again in a way that'll never really leave him, even when he tries for years.

Of course, all great stories must have conflict. They must have the readers on their edges of their seats, teeth worrying away at the crescents of their nails, desperate to know if their protagonists will make it through their turmoil. And so our story has a hiccup and the hiccup is - tragic, bittersweet - tainted with dreams that are too big and a love that weeps for it. There are Quidditch practices that demand all of Al's attention and cameras that gobble up some more until there is very little left for Nova.

So, she leaves.

Kisses him goodbye, sheds a few hundred tears and packs her bags for a town in France (and then Germany and Europe and then the rest of the world. It’s not running away if she meant to do it eventually, after all.)

They stay this way for years, seemingly for forever. For some tales, this would be where the story draws to a close, the final words stained with melancholy and regret. Others, however - the best ones some might say - have a happy ending. Here, the happy ending looks a lot like:

Italy in the late hours of the day with its silk skies and hidden stars, a sliver of a silver moon hanging low against the night.

Nova's skin when it's kissed by golden light, soft and lovely as a fountain spills magic mere metres away.

Al's pulse juddering under a hot, velvet coat.

Skin on skin and small hands tracing blazing trails along his freckles.

Lazy smiles on sunlit mornings and private meals in the evening

Aa promise made over neat hotel napkins.

(The promise agreed that things between them feel different. That they think they might have grown up since two winters ago. That perhaps this means they can grab the second chance they’ve been offered with both hands - and this time, they can hold on tight.)

EXODE

"Albus Potter, you've just won England the Quidditch World Cup final! How does it feel to bring the trophy home for the first time in half a century?" "It feels great, mate. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go kiss my girlfriend."

#hp #harry potter #hp next gen #harry potter next generation #dormitory 2.6a #albus potter #nova hale #scorpius malfoy??#well he's mentioned once #so is james potter #and adam the puff #dahlia darzi #alice longbottom #novus #extras

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