“I looked for love in things that were not love.”
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@elenoremalfoy
“I looked for love in things that were not love.”
— Florence Welch, referring to what inspired her to write the song “Hunger,”
– Vincent van Gogh
I want to enjoy a peaceful day like this.
i have experimented; i have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed—
so where is my dark academia boyfriend who kisses me in dark corners of the library, huh?
Me: Just because you can’t feel the old gods, don’t assume they’re dead. They’ve been asleep but when they wake, you’ll feel like a fool
My co-worker who sits next to me at my new office job, after literally just asking how I am: What the actual fuck
“My voice sounds most unlike my own when asking for permission.” (T.C.)
breathless (steve harrington x reader)
requested by anon: steve harrington x innocent!reader; steve finds out you’ve never been kissed and offers to teach you.
and there it was.
out in the open, hanging in the air between the four of us, joining the scent of strawberry jam and scrambled eggs.
“i—i'm so so sorry,” dustin sputtered, his head ducking as he shoved a too-large piece of waffle into his mouth. twerp.
will and steve watched on quietly, neither of them daring to say anything just yet. thankfully so.
“no, i mean, it’s fine. it’s not like it was a secret, really.” i cleared my throat and reached for my coffee in a desperate attempt to seem nonchalant. “i just hadn’t...told everyone about it...yet.”
“well, now,” steve said, between bites of his toast, “that sounds like a secret to me.”
“i mean, i wasn’t intentionally hiding it,” i avoided looking at him at all costs.
sure, steve meant well, and he was only trying to ease the tension, but even if he was my friend and had been all summer, he was still steve harrington.
steve harrington, harkins heartthrob, who i’m sure was likely an expert when it came to things like this. which incidentally made him the last person i'd ever wanted to know about my ‘late blooming.’
i told dustin last year at the snowball when he thought he’d never find a girlfriend. which i told him wasn't important, but when he assured me it was, i'd felt obligated to level the playing field.
to let him know he wasn’t entirely alone.
although, apparently now that he has suzie, he’s forgotten completely about the part where i said tell anyone and you’re dead.
“uh, dustin,” will finally spoke up. “aren’t we supposed to be meeting up in mike's basement?”
dustin looked up from his plate and stared at will as if to say huh?
“like right now. dustin, go!” will began pushing him out of the booth.
“alright, alright! i'm going!”
“hey, hey, hey,” steve said as the boys tossed their scraps haphazardly onto their plates, the table suddenly strewn with stray napkins and half-eaten embarrassment. “come on guys, careful, careful damnit!”
it was too late though. they’d knocked over an unfinished chocolate milk and were racing out of the nearly empty diner before either of us could blink.
steve swore and i shook my head, both of us chuckling and moving to clean up the spill. our hands met briefly, and i swallowed the end of another laugh.
steve said my name, whispered it rather, and i knew that it was time to talk about the real issue.
“i know,” i told him, pushing my coffee away, “and steve, i'm sorry, i just thought that...i don’t know.”
“hey, look at me,” he said.
i did, my eyebrows drawing up upon seeing his expression. i was never very good at reading others, but somehow steve just made it easy. curiosity and confusion and just the tiniest bit of hurt.
“when you stood me up the other day— was that really because you forgot, or was it something else?”
i offered him a weak excuse for a smile. “can you blame me?”
“of course not.” he shot me back a crooked grin, very much like the one he’d been wearing when he invited me to scoop’s after closing hours.
i felt my chest crack a little.
“it’s just,” i sighed, trying to find anywhere else to look, but my eyes were almost immediately drawn back to his. “you’re notorious when it comes to dating. i figured i would spare you from wasting your time.”
“spare me?” he lowered his head so that we were eye level. “i emptied the rest of a double-chocolatey chip pail...by myself.”
i bit back yet another laugh and--
“but i've gotta tell you,” steve’s hand was suddenly flush against my cheek, his thumb pulling my bottom lip away from my teeth, “i think it’s very sweet.”
was i breathing?
“and if it’s this you’re worried about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, “you could’ve just told me.”
“i'd thought about it,” i admitted, unable to filter my thoughts.
“would you like me to show you?” he pulled his gaze away from my lips to meet my eyes again.
“steve,” i placed my hand over his. “you don’t have to--”
“i want to,” he said quickly, pulling my forehead to his. “i promise.”
my pulse jumped, and i found myself unable to speak. unable to think, really.
“you can trust me, you know that? i won’t bite.” his mouth was a ghost over mine, and his eyes were half-shut, already a daze. “at first.”
i'd barely been able to nod, my other hand coming up to rest against the back of his neck. that was all the confirmation steve had needed. he tilted my head and slanted his lips above my own.
“very good. now open up just a little.” his thumb tugged on my bottom lip yet again, and i felt my entire body respond with a wave of heat, my blush staining even my ears no doubt. “and allow me to do the rest.”
my eyes were still open when steve finally kissed me. the image of his brows furrowed, eyes shut, and sole focus on me—no matter how blurred it was from closeness—sent my own lashes fluttering shut.
i couldn’t breathe and didn’t care to. all i wanted was this. steve. his hands in my hair, his nose against my cheek, and his pulse beating almost as fast as my own.
before i'd realized that i was actually kissing him back, my subconscious leading the way without me, steve was pulling away. i opened my eyes, unsure of why he’d stopped. when i saw him staring back at me, it was clear that something had changed. he seemed...
breathless.
“steve?”
“not too bad.” he gave me another slow smile and said, “let’s try again.”
note; request are open & warmly encouraged!
[a part 2?? maybe?? if it’s requested??]
elenore malfoy (@elenoremalfoy)
training for the ballet, potter?
hogwarts gothic
the castle is built over a sheer cliff. every window you look out of shows a steep drop down into a ravine. you put it out of your mind. nobody seems to fall. one day, a boy from your class throws a quaffle too close to the edge. the next day he is missing, and so is his desk. nobody speaks of him after that.
you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you lean on a wall as you look around you, trying to get your bearings. the solid brick disappears under your hand and you fall through to a cobwebbed room, thick with dust. you turn back, but the wall is firm and unyielding once more. this room has no windows or doors. the floor opens underneath you.
the castle is throwing a feast tonight. food is piled up on the tables higher than your head. there was a feast last night, too. and the night before. your classmates are talking excitedly around you. they say this is the first feast they have had. the food is rich and filling, the best you have ever tasted. you eat as though you are starving. there is another feast tomorrow.
there are ghosts in the castle. they drift between the walls, fog-white and blank-eyed. you have never seen so many in one place before. did they all die in the castle? you ask one but he just smiles.
you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you think it’s just up this flight of stairs. as you run up, your foot catches on a trick step and you sink into the stone. panicking, you try to lift your feet, but you are stuck fast. a prefect walks by on his way down. you call out to him to try and pull you out, but he doesn’t hear you. when you look down, your skin is white as marble.
in the library, you are sitting doing your homework when a cat slinks by your table. it looks up at you with piercing eyes. you remember seeing professor mcgonagall transform, filch and his cat hanging around. is this either of them? you don’t remember. the cat looks at you as though it can see right through you.
the forest is forbidden, they say. your classmates keep being sent into it. some get detention. some take care of magical creatures. some are cornered in the hallway by a teacher, and told to fetch something from within the trees. when they return, there is a haunted look in their sunken eyes. the forest is forbidden, they say in a monotone. the forest is forbidden.
it is time for the mandrakes to be harvested. you are standing in the greenhouse holding a pair of shears. professor sprout tells you to take the mandrake out of its pot and start to cut it up. the twisting, screaming plant has a human face, distorted into a mask of agony. you remember last week, the mandrakes were having a party in the greenhouses. you hold it up before you. professor sprout tells you to start cutting. the mandrake’s face looks just like yours.
you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you ask a passing sixth-year how to get there. she points you to a secret passage, hidden behind a statue of an owl. it turns its head around when you stroke its back, revealing a small passage through the walls. you shuffle through the crawlspace on hands and knees for what feels like miles, until you reach the end. the sixth-year stands in the corridor before you. you ask her where the transfiguration classroom is. she points you to a secret passage, hidden behind a tapestry of an olive tree. you pull it aside open to reveal a small crawlspace. at the other end is another corridor, with that sixth-year standing there. you beg her to just take you to the classroom. she points at a painting of a snake in the opposite wall.
you are only allowed to bring an owl, a cat, or a toad to hogwarts. your best friend sneaks a mouse in and hides her in your dorm. after a week, your friend asks you to feed her for a day. you take the cage out of its hiding place and look at the mouse. she ribbits back at you.
in defence against the dark arts, you are learning how to fight a boggart. the girl before you transformed it into a jack-in-the-box, its giant, bulbous head grinning as it rocks back and forth. everyone around you is laughing. the clown’s head leers at you as you stand and shake. she was meant to turn it into something funny. the laughter is loud in your ears. the clown’s eyes stare into your soul. this is your greatest fear now. everyone else is still laughing.
you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you have reached the top of one of the towers. on the wall is a door marked ‘transfiguration’ - beside it is a window, showing the sky outside the tower. you open the door. there is the classroom. professor mcgonagall looks up at you as you enter, scolding you for being late. mutely, you take your seat. all of the other students have cobwebs in their hair, dust coating their robes. you open your book and take out a roll of parchment. when you leave the classroom, you find yourself in the dungeons.
FANDOM FAMILY EDITS ➳ · · · · @dramiones
it is exceptionally lonely, being draco malfoy.
insp.
The Ball, Gaston La Touche
c. 1889
wake up (billy hargrove x reader)
beware: season 3 spoilers ahead. proceed with caution.
“she was snow through and through; her tears were crystals and her laughter was ice.”
— taylor carpenter
butterfly bones
description; a darkly curious draco & a delicate reader.
he is trembling when he finally gets to touch her.
his fingers, pale as winter from building nerves, are sliding up her shoulder. to drag across her neck, under the thin fabric of her top, and down the sides of her waist.
he has grown unfathomably intoxicated by the softness of her skin. fragile. she is fragile in his hands, sighs and pleas fluttering from her rosed lips. they fill the room with echoes that make him shiver.
watching her reminds him of studying a winged creature, as if he were observing her through a looking glass. he can’t stop himself from thinking about how easy it would be to pin her to the sheets, stick needles through the joints of her limbs, hold her down and—
draco.
when he meets her eyes again, he blames the celestial promises behind them for making him break.
he had meant to take his time, had wanted to jot careful notes about every detail of her undressed body that he was not yet familiar with.
draco.
her name leaves his mouth in a rush of air, a whisper to the old gods. it occurs to him distantly that eventually she, too, will be written into the book of saints, among all other cruel, faultless divinities.
now, he’s pulling her closer.
she is startled, a martyr in a web, he knows, but there’s something in her he needs, something she has that he craves.
dra-
he was not born a saint, he was born to devour. to carve and mangle and take, not to savor.
for a while they are lips, tongues, teeth, and nothing more. her prayers sound like his name and taste unnaturally sweet when he steals them from the back of her throat.
but, what threatens to crack the ground beneath him, is how desperately she seems to need him.
he tells her as much, too.
although, it is not until his mouth nears her chest that he is reminded of how delicate she is.
here, in the space between, is where she begins to twitch.
his hands have found new places to warm. the underside of her breast, for example, where it is hard to compare her heart’s th-thump, th-thump, th-thumping to anything other than the frantic flapping of wings.
all the while, his other hand has nearly reached the place he’s wondered most about.
“dra-draco,” she says again, and he understands the reason behind the stutters; scripture has rendered itself unworthy to them both.
and so he lays her down before him, the surrendering of grace all together.
she fits herself into his hand like a glass, and he is curious to know if that is what she is made of.
he wants to know if the skin he’s spent so much time warming is home to a crystalline skeleton. he needs to know.
without any more hesitation, they are tangled again in a feverish and endless consuming of one another. a rapture of bitter-sweet curses and butterfly bones—they disappear into each other.
note; request are open & warmly encouraged!
lilien belle (@thelilienbelle)
the sound of stars (pt. 1)
description; draco x reader drink to drown their thoughts. atop the astronomy tower they find themselves lost amongst the night’s fog & whispering stars.
neither of them ever had any troubles when it came to holding her own against liquors.
and yet, here they both were. sleepily passing an emptying bitter spirit, the name of which they’d both forgotten. this was good. this meant it was doing its job— helping them to forget.
the reason she’d been crying had long escaped her hazy memory. the only hint, a slow burning serpent that’d recently been carved into her forearm. it writhed beneath the sleeve of her shirt.
after only a short while of joining her up here, draco, too, had forgotten all the worries that’d been consuming him—eating away at his insides—for weeks.
so together they sat, legs dangling over the side of the astronomy tower, sharing a seat under the arch of an open window.
looking over the edge, past their bare feet, the rose garden was dark and its twisting pathways were blackening under the dim light of the stars. the clouds had settled low enough that she and draco were idly counting the roses through the dusk coloured haze.
as time passed, the risks of reaching out and grasping for the wisps of clouds floating by no longer seemed enough to keep her from them. the moon shone against her skin as her hand emerged from the shadows they’d been hiding in.
draco watched as she leaned imperceptibly forward, the features of her face slowly illuminating. then he saw it.
he’d never thought of the mark as anything but a curse, but looking at it curled around her arm, it appeared almost elegant to him.
“careful,” he told her, hand shooting out to prevent her from wandering too far. the clouds scattered, and when her eyes caught his, he was reminded of when he’d first been chosen.
he could see it, written there in her gaze, that she hadn’t asked for it. of course she hadn’t— neither had he. draco offered her the bottle.
their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and he noted the way she had bristled. his touch was cold, he knew. it always was.
she was shivering and he found himself wishing he had not discarded his robes before he left the confines of his room.
soon she was back to sulking in the shadows. those eyes again downcast, peering into the bottle as if trying to cipher an invisible message left at the bottom.
draco took out his wand, and uttered a spell or two beneath his breath. he wondered if she heard him and decided to ignore him, or if she’d truly become so lost in her thoughts to notice his silly little incantations.
nevertheless, he continued to whisper a few phrases, moving his wand to and from as he did.
she only looked up when a star, the size of the small jewel around her neck, flew into the bottle she was holding. it startled her so badly that she nearly dropped the thing.
bewildered, she turned to draco, who was still lazily conducting with his wand. his eyes met hers, and she noted the sort of mirth she suddenly realized had been missing from him and his usual behavior for quite sometime now.
“what are you doing?” it was the first time she’d spoken since draco found her sitting here alone.
the blue glass of the bottle was glinting between them. flickers of swirling, kaleidoscopic light bounced off of the walls in the astronomy tower and caught on every feature of their own grim faces.
his lips parted with a blue smirk when he said, “i’m trying not to think so much.”
“think so much about what?” her question was thwarted with yet another magic act. it was mesmerizing— tuffs of the clouds she had been reaching for were now swimming around her.
she hummed with the ghost of laughter as a few of them stopped to gently nudge her cheek and stroke her skin. they intertwined themselves into strands of her hair and were dancing dreamily about her robes.
stars, small as pearls and slowly blinking, began to weave themselves into the wisps of fog and mist floating around her. she gasped as she watched them wink at her, their lights twinkling like bells as they moved.
“draco,” she breathed, but she had already forgotten what it was she wished to say, because a single star had set itself in the empty palm of her hand.
“this one is trying to tell you something,” he told her.
his wand had stopped moving, and he was now leaning back against the pillar of stone behind him. those tired grey eyes were closing, the promise of sleep not being very far away.
“how do you know?” she cradled the little star, trying and failing to tear her eyes away from him while he drifted off.
the veins webbed over his lids and the one or two snaking up from around his neck near the opening of his unbuttoned shirt were the colour of starlit lazuli in the glassy reflection of the bottle.
“you can’t hear it?” the trace of a smile played in his voice. “the star is whispering. bring it closer to you.”
she didn’t try to hide her skepticism, but still, she brought the star up to her ear.
watching draco fall asleep, she waited for the star to speak. his fingers unfurled from his wand and his head drooped too far to the right for him to have been awake.
bored of waiting, she had nearly been ready to assume that the boy had gone mad and drunkenly believed the star to be telling secrets, suddenly— the humming ceased and a soft purr of a whisper began to unwind.
“beautiful,” it said. “you look beautiful tonight.”
“well, thank you,” she smiled, despite her heavy shoulders.
“you even look pretty when you cry, too. in fact, i always seem to find it rather hard not to stare.”
“draco?” she sat straight up and made to drop the star. she wasn’t sure what to say to that, to him.
“shhh,” the star— no, he hissed. “quiet, don’t wake me yet. just let me say one thing more?”
she blushed and before she could reason with herself, she nodded. “very well. what is it then?”
“you’re not in this alone.”
a few pieces of cloud gently raised her arm and revealed her dark mark. she stilled in response to his assurance.
“whatever it is he’s making you do, i want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone.”
“stop.” she couldn’t take her eyes off of draco’s unmoving form. he was still deep in sleep while she was now tingling with wild nervousness.
“what ever reason you have for joining, i won’t hold it against you…” like everyone had done to him.
the promise he’d made was every where, and perhaps it was meant to be friendly, but the sting of knowing exactly how doomed the two of them were made her entire body weak.
dropping the hand that was holding the star, she moved away from the window, but the threat of falling still seemed imminent. she felt empty, as though the dark mark had already hollowed her out.
they stayed that way for some time.
she with her back against the wall, and he with one leg over the edge.
finally, the star winked out and draco began to stir with awareness. the clouds and stars that remained opened to encircle the both of them when draco kneeled in front of her.
he brushed away the hair that hung over her face like a curtain. the one thing hiding her from him now were the elbows she’d propped against her knees.
he brushed those away, too. this time his touch was feather soft, reminding her of the wisps and stars from moments ago.
the clouds weaved themselves through her tousled hair, the stars cast abnormal highlights across her features, and the blue glass still illuminated the shadows of her eyes.
looking at her made draco forget not only what he was about to say, but also everything before and after the moment she’d looked back at him.
there was only tenderness in her expression, and he wondered about nothing else than if she was as soft as she seemed.
he tried to break the spell, but his hands were already on either side of her face, his thumbs just below the jut of her chin. her pulse met the tips of his fingers wherever they trailed.
and then he felt the promise of her in the air around them, stealing what control he had left.
“tell me,” he said suddenly, breaking off to clear his throat. “tell me to think of something else.”
her lips parted with a question, and it only weakened his will.
“tell me to think of something other than you, because i— can’t.”
she swallowed before bringing a hand to touch the clenched jaw he was wearing, wondering just how hard he must’ve been trying to restrain himself.
“you could think about the stars if you’d like,” she said, “or about being somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.”
“is that what you’re thinking about?” he found himself closer to her, so close now that he could smell the wine they’d shared.
she leaned up off of the wall, and let her other hand grip the crinkled collar of his shirt. their breathing was shallow now, and the stars seemed to mock their quiet sounds of desperation.
though, all was silent when she shook her head and answered him with a simple, “no.”
note; requests are open, strongly encouraged, & warmly welcomed!
lilien belle (@thelilienbelle)