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sgtbradfords · 1 year

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Chenford + Love Confession ❤️

Lucy pulled the blue cotton sheet higher over her chest, holding the fabric there as she sat upwards on the bed. Suddenly, she felt undoubtedly exposed.

"You're leaving."

A stillness fell over the bedroom, while her thoughts ran freely. The silence was deafening, maddening, and done nothing to help the pounding sensation that was currently happening inside her head.

She found a scoff falling past her lips, an odd mixture of shame and disbelief before she pulled her mouth closed, rolling her tongue along the inside of her cheek.

It seemed as though that was all the man, who stood at the foot of her four-poster bed needed.

Hastily he tucked the grey t-shirt that had once been on her bedroom floor, back into the waistband of his jeans. Normally Lucy would have found herself staring unabashedly, but this time, it was different.

"What else did you expect?"

Last night when he eased her back on the couch, she had drunkenly hoped that something had changed, that he had changed. Even when he had whispered, 'Nothing's changed Luce.' against the curve of her neck.

She had been an idiot for ever letting him through her front door.

Humorlessly she released a laugh, removing her hand away from her chest as the sheet pooled around her waist. She gestured animatedly in front of her, "I expected us to finally talk about it!"

His ministrations faltered, his hands pausing with his black leather belt mid loop. Not once did his stare waver from her own, giving her every bit of the non-answer she needed. They were never going to talk about it, certainly not now anyways.

Lucy turned her head towards the window, ignoring the pain that was spreading like a wildfire inside her chest. She could see that dawn was rapidly approaching outside, the early morning light casting her room in a paleness that matched the mood inside the room.

"You lost the right to show up here and fuck me when you broke up with me, Tim."

Had her stare been turned towards the man in question, she would have seen him flinch.

"That's not-"

"Then what was it?" Bitterly she laughed with the turn of her head. "What was last night? This morning? A drunken mistake? A lapse in judgement? Why did you even come here?"

Silently she pleaded for the tears that were welling in her eyes to hold off for just a minute longer.

Tim done nothing more than gape at her, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing as her words rendering him speechless, tilting his world a little further off its axis.

"Did you mean it?" Her voice was low, roughened with traces of sleep and the weight of holding back a dam of emotions from cascading over the top.

Her question brought him out of his stupor.

He tried hiding the shift of weight from one foot to the other. He tried hardening, schooling his features into one that hid his emotions. He tried containing the clenching of his jaw and the flexing of his hands.

He may have tried, but he undoubtedly failed.

"Mean what?"

"What you told me last night."

She blinked once, a rogue tear sliding down the slope of her cheek but she never made the motion to swipe it away.

The look Tim had been projecting, fell away within the blink of an eye. It was once again every bit of an answer, but she needed to hear him say it again.

"Of course I do, Lucy." His voice was as soft as the look he was giving her, soft yet firm. Almost as though he would vehemently deny ever being told otherwise. "I'll always love you."

"But?" She whispered, bringing her knees up to her chest as he moved around to what had long since been her side of the bed.

Lucy knew what he was about to do when he bent at the knee, the fingers of his left hand becoming entangled in her coffee colored strands. She could have stopped him, should have stopped him. But she couldn't find it in herself to.

His lips pressed against her forehead softly, lingering for a second. Two. Five before he pulled away to look at her in earnest. His thumb swiped across her cheek as he tenderly told her to, "Get some rest."

The tears began to fall more freely as he walked out of the room, but her sobs only start after hearing the soft click that came from the front door.

Lucy thought she knew heartbreak but this... this was worse than any stab wound or gun shot. This was something that permeated itself deep into her heart, her soul, her mind, and the only cure had readily sealed their fate.

Read part 2, here!

#thanks for the ask!#anon #chenford fanfiction #chenford fanfic #chenford #em answers #not at all inspired by a song I've had on repeat the past two days #i am in an angsty mood forgive me #fanfic

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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 years

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Day 182: Delicate

The lovely prompter specifically requested "Delicate" by Taylor Swift as the prompt. I feel like @phoebe-delia is really the person I would entrust to crush prompts for her songs, but I will endeavor to do my best. This is rated M for implied sexual content.

Draco lit up a cigarette while he waited outside of the dingy muggle bar. It was a filthy habit, but one he couldn't seem to shake when he was going out to drink and to dance.

Or when his nerves were spiking (not that he'd ever confess to that). He didn't know why he always showed up early, it only ever served to make him more anxious, but some old habits died hard. Others, he thought as he glanced down at his muggle jeans and wide neck white tshirt, had died very easily indeed.

"Hey."

He looked up to see Harry approaching and he stole Draco's breath the way he always did. He had changed too. A lot. He'd grown into himself in the two years following the war, he was a few inches taller than Draco was now, his shoulders had broadened and filled in, and his hair was long enough to get swept up into a loose bun on top of his head. He wasn't sure how much of that was normal teenage growth and how much was a result of Harry getting bitten by a werewolf and turned.

Perhaps most importantly, though, he'd covered himself in tattoos. Flowers covered his arms (they all represented something, he'd confessed one night about four months into this thing between them, whatever it was), he had sets of footprints with little scrolls containing names that covered his biceps and his shoulders, a snitch tattooed behind one ear, a deathly hallows symbol on his ankle. There was a full moon with a wolfsbane flower on his rib cage, a black dog curled just below. Across his collarbones he had antlers woven through with lilies.

Seeing only a few peaking out at Draco from under his shirt was enough to make him itch with the desire to get Harry naked. Again.

"Hi," he replied, after taking a long drag of his cigarette to keep from seeming too over eager.

Harry took the cigarette from between Draco's fingers and wrapped his lips around it. And Draco was probably a little unhinged for finding it as incredibly hot as he did.

"How was your day?" he inquired lightly; it was always best to be polite, right?

Harry groaned and shook his head, "No rest for the weary."

"I believe the idiom is 'no rest for the wicked'."

"Is it, now?" Harry asked, grinning sharply as he dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with his boot before turning and pressing Draco back against the wall. "I suppose I could try to fit that description instead."

He laughed, tucking a loose curl behind Harry's ear and grabbing his band t-shirt with the other hand to draw him closer and kiss him once, "I really don't think you can."

Harry nipped at his jaw, teeth stinging before he soothed it with his tongue.

"See?" he said, "Can't even bite me properly."

"Draco," he growled in warning.

"Teasing," he said quickly, even though they probably both knew it wasn't entirely true. He'd tried to provoke Harry into turning him a few weeks after they'd gotten reacquainted. Harry had called him out on trying to piss off his dad. He hadn't been entirely wrong but he hadn't been entirely right either. There was something hot about the idea of turning with Harry, of spending full moons together, running through forests.

He hadn't said that, of course, because Harry would think he'd lost the plot completely.

"Let's go inside," he murmured, teeth scraping over Draco's jaw and neck, making Draco shudder and press his body against him. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Yeah."

"Long Island?"

He nodded, chasing Harry's lips for just a moment, Harry hummed and kissed him back, lips moving against Draco's, tongue brushing over Draco's lips as he sought entrance. And Draco didn't think he'd ever get over kissing Harry. Especially where other people could see them. It made his blood sing every time. His reputation was absolutely appalling and Harry kissing him in public always made him have the wild hope that Harry actually liked him.

When Draco pulled back a bit to catch his breath, Harry hummed, following him and kissing at his chin and jaw. “Find us a table to have our drinks at while I fetch them?”

“Fetch them,” he repeated with a laugh. “Just an overgrown dog.”

Harry shook his head but he was grinning like he couldn’t quite help himself. “You’re trouble.”

“You like it,” he teased, pressing his body against Harry’s even harder.

“Merlin help me, I do,” he groaned before pulling away and dragging Draco off the wall.

Once inside, Draco looked around and spotted an empty table off to the right and made his way over to it, casting a discreet (wandless) cleaning charm as he sat down. A few seconds later a thoroughly average looking bloke slid in across from him and gave him a grin, "'ello, luv," he said.

Draco gazed at him coolly, "I'm not interested."

"Aw, give us a try, first," he said, walking his fingers across the table toward Draco's hand.

He resisted the impulse to pull away and watched his progress. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

At that, he covered Draco's hand with his own, "Why's that?"

"I'm not interested," he repeated.

"Come on-"

"I think he politely asked you not to fucking touch him," a voice growled behind them.

A chill stole up his spine at the possessive tone of Harry's voice, Draco smirked as the man spun to see Harry standing behind him with their drinks in hand. The man paled as he took in Harry's form and the barely concealed rage.

Harry set the drinks down on the table, "Get out of here," he said, voice low and dangerous as he leaned toward the other man, his body imposing. "Do not come back. Do not inflict your presence on people who do not desire it."

"I was only-"

"Do not lie," he said, nostrils flaring and lip curling in a snarl. "You reek of ill intentions."

He didn't seem to want to stick around to hear more about what Harry had to say, so he turned and fled the table, moving toward the door.

Harry stood unnaturally still as he watched him, waiting until the door closed before he slid into the chair the man had vacated.

"My hero," Draco tittered, fluttering his eyelashes.

Harry huffed a laugh, shaking his head at Draco, "fuck off."

He grinned and sipped his drink, and they drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, Harry's foot slowly tracing its way up and down Draco's shin.

When he finished his drink, he held out a hand and Harry threw back his second double of whiskey (his tolerance had gotten significantly higher once he'd been turned) before taking it and allowing Draco to pull him out onto the dance floor. Draco turned in his arms and kissed him as Harry wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in closer still, hips grinding slowly against Draco's.

He lost himself to the sway of Harry's hips, to the caress of his hands, the press of their bodies together. For his part, Harry seemed equally lost to the world, focused solely on Draco and their bodies. "Godric," he hummed, mouthing over the column of Draco's neck, "You're so-"

"Harry," he said, groaned really, as he tilted his head back and let the other man kiss and suck at his neck.

"-fucking gorgeous," Harry finished. "Want to get out of here?"

He nodded and Harry grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door, he slammed Draco against the wall in the alleyway and kissed him until all of the muggles had disappeared.

"Hold on," Harry murmured against Draco's lips, grinning sharply before disapparating them back to Harry's flat. And Draco lost himself in Harry a little more until the two of them were too tired to stay awake any longer.

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When Draco woke again, Harry wasn't in bed anymore and he must have been gone for a while, given that Draco was actually feeling kind of chilly. He stretched and let the last vestiges of his very hot dream about Harry fade away before climbing out of bed and pulling on one of Harry's flannel shirts.

He wandered toward the balcony and stepped through the door, Harry was staring out over the city, elbows leaning on the balcony railing.

"Hey," he said softly, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

Harry tensed for a minute before consciously relaxing, rubbing his thumb over Draco's forearm.

"I was having the best dream," he murmured into Harry's neck.

The other man huffed a soft chuckle, "Oh?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed. "Remember that night you took me to Paris?"

Harry laughed, "Oh, that must have been a good dream."

He tucked his smile against Harry's bare shoulder, "Yes. You really do have a skilled mouth."

"I'm glad you think so," he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the side of Draco's head where it rested over his shoulder. "My mouth quite enjoys you." Harry went quiet again, mind drifting until it felt like he was miles away.

Draco swallowed and, not for the first time, wished that he could take some of Harry's burdens. Usually, he just ended up apparating away and leaving Harry to his thoughts, too uncertain about his place in the other man's life. "Do you ever dream of me?" he whispered before he could stop himself.

His breath caught and he froze for a minute, but before Draco could panic, he said, "Often."

Draco swallowed, too afraid to ask for more.

"Sometimes, in my dreams, they come after you," he said hoarsely.

And Draco wanted to ask who came after him, who was Harry protecting him from, even in his dreams.

"If you're not here when I wake up from those, it's-" he blew out a breath, shaking his head, "really hard not to apparate to your apartment to make sure you're still there."

"Harry-"

"Sometimes," he continued over Draco, "Sometimes you're doing something ridiculously hot. And I wake up hard as a fucking rock."

He nodded, inordinately pleased. "Good."

Harry chuckled, "Sometimes," he added, "we just go out and do normal things. Go out for coffee, walk in the park, you know," he said with a shrug. "Once, you walked with me on a beach."

"A beach?" he asked, wanting Harry to paint the picture.

Nodding, Harry said, "The sun was just coming up over the water, it turned everything pink and orange. You were fucking radiant. Your hair a mess, big smile on your face, shirt buttoned crooked but you looked like a dream," he said with a laugh. "Like I just wanted to bottle you up, the way you were glowing and free." His hand squeezed Draco's arm, "Merlin, it took everything in me not to just take you away to some deserted island the next day."

Draco didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell him that he would have let him. Didn't know how to say that he wanted that more than anything.

"Sometimes," Harry said slowly, like he was afraid of scaring Draco off, "you come to me in my dreams. You let me hold you and kiss you, let me make love to you. Slow and sweet." he murmured and Draco's heart felt like it had expanded until there wasn't any room left in his chest.

"You let me stare into your eyes until I'm lost in them," Harry continued, "until they're the only thing I can see. And all I can hear is the way you say my name. All I can feel is your body wrapped around me, drawing me in, holding me fast. All I can smell is your poncy cologne, and your aftershave, and your sweat. It makes me feel fucking feral," he said. "And I-" he dropped his head, suddenly breathing too hard.

Draco slipped a hand up his chest pressing it over his rib cage where he could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Hey," he whispered. "It's okay," he breathed, kissing the back of Harry's neck.

"The wolf takes over," Harry said then, voice devoid of all emotions. "And I bite you." He rested both hands on the railing again, leaning forward slightly like he was giving Draco permission to leave.

Draco pressed a kiss to his shoulder and wrapped his arms a little tighter around him, silently promising, I'm not going anywhere. "Then what?" he prompted lightly.

"Then what?" Harry parroted mockingly under his breath like it was inconceivable. "I fucking like it, alright?" he managed, like it tore him up. "Biting you, right in that tender spot where your neck meets your shoulder; the spot that drives you absolutely fucking wild when I suck at it."

There was a rather large bruise there at the present moment to prove that, actually, Draco couldn't help but think. He did love that and he loved it even more when Harry scraped his teeth over that spot when they were nearing the end. It invariably sent him over the edge.

"I love it," he said, like a confession. "Feeling the way you writhe under me, your soft flesh under my sharp fucking teeth. It feels so good." he managed, like feeling good was something that caused him physical pain.

"Okay," he whispered, not quite sure how to sooth him in this.

"I'm fucking marking you," he finally spit. "I'm claiming you, mating is what my pack would call it."

And Draco couldn't breathe properly for a moment, "Oh," he managed faintly because never could he have imagined a confession of this magnitude.

"So there you go," Harry said, voice tight. "You're sleeping with a fucking monster. Which maybe you already knew but-"

"Harry," he interrupted, suddenly realizing the extent to which the other man was spiraling after telling Draco all of that. "Hey," he repeated, ducking under his arm and slipping around Harry's body until he was standing in front of him, back against the balcony, with Harry's arms bracketing him in. "Hey," he whispered again, stroking one hand into Harry's hair and cupping his jaw with the other.

The other man refused to look at him, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

"Look at me," he requested.

He shook his head and Draco watched a tear track down his cheek.

"You're not a monster."

A broken sob shook out of Harry's chest.

"Oh," he whispered, pulling his head down until it was tucked into Draco's neck. He realized belatedly that it was the exact spot that Harry'd just confessed to dreaming about moments before. "You're not a monster," he repeated.

"Draco," he groaned raggedly, "I could hurt you."

"You think that loving me could hurt me?" he asked. "Because that is all I hear when you talk about your dreams of me."

He pulled back, affronted, "Did you not hear the part where I literally went for your throat? With my teeth?"

"Did you not hear the part where you said that I was in ecstasy while you made love to me?" he asked. "While you bit me?"

"Draco, I-"

"Is that why you always get so bent out of shape when I tell you I want you to bite me?" he demanded. "Not because you don't want to spend your life tied to me, but because you do?"

Harry pulled away completely, turning away from Draco and heading back inside.

"Hey!" he said. "Harry, we are not done with this conversation."

"I am," Harry replied as he stepped inside and made his way to the sink.

He followed him in, shutting the door behind them and crossing his arms over his chest. "I want that too."

"No you don't," he replied without missing a beat.

"You don't get to speak for me," he said, balling his hands into fists. "You don't get to decide-"

"It would turn you!" he exploded. "Do you not get that? It would ruin your life. It would ruin your friendships, your opportunities for work in the wizarding world. It would ostracize you."

"Gee, I wonder what that must be like," he said, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, "You don't want this."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, took in his defensive posture, the pleading in his eyes, hands clenched into fists. "When you say that I don't want this, do you actually mean that I don't want you?"

His face crumpled and he turned away, "How could you?"

"You," he said, stepping lightly across the room and moving so that he could see Harry's face once more, "are not a monster," he repeated. "I am not afraid of you. Your love is not going to hurt me."

"It's not just love," he said, "It's ownership, that's the wolf's drive, the desire to possess, to claim, to own. It's-"

"It goes both ways, you know," Draco interrupted. "I love you too," he said, brave as he could possibly manage to be in the light of the gift of Harry's honesty. "And not only do I want you to claim me, to see me as yours," he said because honestly, that idea was hotter than anything and sounded so permanent that Draco's entire heart melted into a puddle in his chest at the thought. "But I also want to hold your heart. I want to call you mine, for everyone to know that you are mine," he cupped Harry's cheek, "It's not just you. You aren't alone. And," he continued, "I don't have a wolf to blame it on. Just my own instincts." Then he gave Harry a little smirk, "Not yet at least."

Harry stared at him for long moments, absorbing what Draco had just said, "I can't make that decision right now. I'm too emotionally compromised."

"I'm not asking you to make any decisions right now," he said calmly. "I'm not expecting you to drag me to bed and mark me," he added, shuddering a bit at the thought, "Although, I wouldn't say no if you did-"

"Draco-"

"The point," he continued, "is that all I want to do is make it clear to you that you are not alone."

He hummed and grasped the flaps of the flannel shirt Draco had borrowed, pulling him in closer, "not alone," he murmured softly.

"Not alone," Draco repeated, leaning up to steal a kiss. "Not anymore."

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