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shysneeze · 4 years

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i solemnly swear i am up to no good (george weasley x reader)

request: what if one night the golden trio is look at the marauders map that the twins gave Harry and they see the reader and George sneaking around hogwarts and they ask George about it the next day? ~ anon

warnings: yo i don’t even think i swear in this one it’s a miracle, can’t think of anything else but Fred’s dramatics

authors note: this is the best porcastination I have ever tasted (fuck chemistry uno?) anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for anon and thank you for the request <3

...

It's a carefully constructed routine, one that George has perfected by now. He's worked out that Lee is always the last to fall asleep, and so the coast is always clear when he begins to snore, that he's safe to slip from his covers and creep down the stairs, by which point the common room is always empty and he's free to leave completely undetected.

He knows the corridors to avoid, the ones with the gossiping portraits and regular prefect patrols. He knows that McGonagall keeps her classroom lit through the night to discourage snooping students and that the ghost will turn a blind eye at most things, unless they're in a particularly bad mood.

He's thought it through perfectly, even if he does say so himself. In fact, he's not had an incident since the first night they met up, when Peeves decided to draw the attention of every sleeping painting in the vicinity, who awoke rather grouchy, and ready to take their complaints straight to Dumbledore until George convinced them he wouldn't let it happen to again.

Now, though, he's sure he's considered everything and he's rather smug with himself when he arrives at the kitchens. (Y/N) smiles at him when he arrives, already perched on one of the counter tops beside two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Still beat ya, Georgie." She grins.

"Right you." He teases. "You have no idea the expedition it is to get here without getting caught."

"Excuses, excus-"

He's kissing her before she can finish, her laughter vibrating against his lips until she recovers from the abruptness of it and is gathering a handful of his jumper and pulling him closer as she does every time.

They've thought of everything to keep it their own, their sacred routine and their special secret. They've eliminated every possible hiccup that could occur, they're sure of it. Everything always goes as plan and their relationship is kept protected in it's own little bubble, the way they like it.

"You're not still obsessing over that map."

The boys by the fireplace jumps at the sound of Hermione's voice, staring wide-eyed as she stands on the bottom of the girl's dorm's staircase with a disappointed frown. Harry clutches the map against his chest, as if it will anyway hide it from her.

"'Mione." Ron exhales. "You gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"What are you doing up?" Harry asks.

"I left my textbook down here." She informs. "You?"

"We're uh, checking to see if Flitwick is still in the hospital wing with the flu." Harry admits shamefully. "So we don't need to the do the homework..."

"Of course you are."

She comes forward with a sigh, dropping into the seat beside them. She can't help but be slightly curious on the matter, even with her already completed homework upstairs. The map is characteristically empty for the time of night, most people's names stationary in their dorms except from the occasional pacing teacher, still up marking, or the prefects on their rounds.

It's what makes the set of footsteps tiptoeing down an empty corridor so noticeable, George Weasley's name so stark on the otherwise empty stretch of enchanted parchment. Hermione frowns at it curiously and points.

"What is George doing?"

"Who knows." Ron shrugs. "Probably just setting up some sort of prank."

Hermione gives him an unconvinced look and drags her finger up to the Gryffindor tower, halting at the boys dorms, where Fred's name lies still where he is sleeping. Ron takes a minute to catch onto the implication.

"Then why is Fred not there either?"

"Maybe he's gone rogue?" Harry suggests.

"I doubt that."

They return to George as his inky footsteps lead further through the castle, looping through hidden corridors and secret passage ways methodically before arriving at the kitchen, where upon realisation, Hermione lets out a chuckle.

"Oh."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"Look who already in the kitchens." She explains.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ron exhales. "What's he meeting up with her for?"

"Think about it, Ronald." Hermione smiles knowingly.

Ron's brows scrunch in confusion, looking expectantly to Harry, who seems to have already clued himself in and is grinning knowingly. Then his eyes begin to widen with realisation and Hermione nods.

"He can't be- with (Y/N)?" Ron gasps. "No..."

"Seems that way." Harry gives an amused smile.

"That smug git." Ron breathes. "I knew he was hiding something!"

Hermione lets out a soft laugh, soon followed by Harry. Thoughts of Flitwick's whereabouts long forgotten at this new information and it's implications. In the kitchens the pair's names have stilled together, oblivious to the secrets they've spilled.

George sips slowly at his coffee, willing it to make up for his late night with a burst of energy. Even through his tiredness, he's grinning to himself at the memories of the night before. His eyes search for (Y/N)'s across the room, finding them quickly, well practiced in the art of doing so. She’s nursing a cup of coffee in a similar way, and gives a knowing smile before dropping her gaze with a slight shake of her head.

Across the table, Ron watches the exchange with insider knowledge and scowls at his elder brother, a mixture of perplexed and impressed. Harry nudges him warningly, but wears a knowing sort of smirk that George catches from the corner of his eyes and causes him to grow slightly uneasy from.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing." Harry assures, coughing out a laugh. "Nothing, George."

"Alright..."

He attempts to return to his breakfast when he hears Ron snigger, rounding back on them with a frown. Hermione lifts her glass to her lips to hide her smile, only adding to George confusion. Fred's picked up on it too now, watching their little brother and his friends curiously.

"What are you lot so smug about?" Fred asks.

"That's what I'd like to know." George agrees with a frown.

George watches as Ron's eyes drift across the room towards same place as his had a moment ago, to (Y/N). George's jaw slackens ever so slightly, alerting Fred to this new development, also glancing over at the girl. (Y/N) isn't blind to this new attention, lifting her eyes to meet theirs and frowning in concern.

"Shut up." George tells Ron sternly. "Don't say anything."

"What?" Fred frowns. "What are you on about, George?"

George fixes Ron with a glare whilst also trying to figure out how he's come to know this information. He's so sure he'd considered everything, yet his brother is grinning at him like he's just won the lottery for best blackmail material possible.

Then, from the corner of Harry's robes, he recognises the aged parchment that he and Fred gave the boy themselves. He finds himself gulping and his cheeks growing warmer by the second as Harry chuckles at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred ask sharply, growing agitated at being left out of the loop. "What has (Y/L/N) got to do with it?"

Ron last two seconds before he's blurting it out despite George's pleading look.

"George met up with (Y/N) in the kitchen's last night."

"Merlin..." George groans.

"What!?" Fred bursts loudly. "You what?"

George groans and drops his head into his hands as Fred stares wide-eyed and betrayed. George should have considered the map, the most damning piece of evidence there could be, that no perfect timing and strategic route planning could save them from.

"You absolute git!" Fred exclaims, punching his twins arms. "You've got yourself a girlfriend and didn't tell me!"

"Ah!" George exclaims, sitting up to rub his arm soothingly. "No need for violence!"

"Uh, yeah there is!" Fred argues. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know- a few weeks?" George offers.

"A few week-" Fred gasps. "And Ron knew before me?"

"I didn't exactly plan that." George defends. "Harry's got the bloody map."

"Wow." Fred folds his arms. "You think you know someone."

"Oh come off it, Fred." George groans. "I would've told you eventually."

"Eventually." Fred scoffs. "I'm your brother- your twin! I should have been told the minute it started!"

George runs his finger through his hair with a sigh and gives Fred a sheepish look, although it does nothing to appease his twin's sour look. He's nice enough to feel somewhat guilty for it, even with his brother's dramatics.

"Are you ashamed of your family George?"

That's when George clocks that he's just being a dramatic git. He rolls his eyes at his brother as he starts up with a rant on loyalty and brotherhood, hand on his heart like he's quoting Shakespeare.

"You'll get over it soon enough." George decides flippantly. "We just liked sneaking around."

"That's possibly the most goddamn boring excuse you could come up with." Fred announces disappointedly. "You just ruined my whole thing- I was hoping for something like she thought you were me the whole time and this was actually a case of identity theft."

"Sorry to disappoint." George smirks with a shrug. "But she thinks I'm the better looking twin."

"She's clearly blind."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all." George sighs. "It started as an accident and then we just kind of got used to it."

"Wow, romantic." Fred jokes.

"Shut up." George scoffs. "It's not everyone's idea of a nice date but it's ours and we like it."

Fred smiles quite genuinely at this, the defensiveness in his brother's tone.

"You really like her." He observes. "Huh?"

George's eyes drift unsubtly towards the girl in question, where his smile widens at seeing her with that smile he's so used to feeling on his lips when they kiss. He chuckles to himself before turning back to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Then I'm happy for you." Fred decides, clapping his brother's shoulder. "But ever keep anything like this from me again and your twin status is revoked."

"Noted." George grins. "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron gulps at the change in his brother's tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'd be checking your shoes for spiders for a while mate."

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley imagine #Fred and George imagine #george imagine #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfics #fred and george

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strawberry-fields-things · 3 years

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— a little guide to my dream smp gods!au

( otherwise known as: i got too invested in an au i was writing and now i created a whole universe for it 🤠 )

Technoblade — God of blood and war

Technoblade is the first descendant of the celestial bloodline, as well as one of the most troubled gods in Olympus. While started out as the perfect son, Techno quickly began to sense a rift between him and his family as his thirst for blood grew with the years. He is feared by both mortals and gods alike, and hasn’t set foot in Olympus in decades. He used to be rather close to Niki and Philza, before eventually disappearing completely from their lives — at least, that’s what other gods believe.

There are many myths surrounding the great blood god, Technoblade. Among them, one manages to stand out — the tale behind his title. It is believed that Techno abandoned Olympus willingly — but not without taking a stance and fighting. It is told that the moment the battle ceased, the moment Techno stepped out of the golden gates, rain started pouring in the mortal world. Except it wasn’t just rain.

It was blood.

Wilbur; Cantio — God of music

Wilbur holds several names in the mortal realm — Apollo, Ihy, Bragi — the most prevalent being Cantio. The reason as to why his name holds vast variations is quite simple — Wilbur, unlike other gods, has spent most of his existence dabbling between civilizations, illuminating their artists and peacefully listening to their music.

He is the second to oldest son, only falling behind Technoblade. His celestial life, however, has also been defined by dark periods of time — moments when the god of music fell into destruction and chaos. Little is known of Wilbur’s darkest times, as he has made an effort to delete it from humanity’s records. Yet even when he tries his best to forget, his brother Dream is always there to remind him.

Cantio has grown to replace Philza’s presence when he’s away for months, years, even decades. With Techno gone and Dream being a manipulative snake, the burden has fallen on Wilbur’s shoulders — whether he liked it or not.

He is most distant with Ambustio and Dream — out of self-preservation... not that he’d ever admit it. On the other hand, he’s undoubtedly closest to Tommy, who actually was the one to gift him his beloved golden lyre.

Dream — God of lies and deception

Dream is definitely one of the most cryptic gods there are, his story finding itself wrapped around mystery and secrecy. He is younger only to Techno and Wilbur, and isn’t as close to his family as the others. Although his story has been lost to time, the older gods can vaguely recall centuries ago— when rather than the god of lies, Dream was known as the god of truth. As the centuries passed, the rift between him and his celestial family grew bigger. No one can remember when exactly he began wearing his infamous mask— or why. Dream’s face was another victim lost to the passage of time, only to become a distorted image in other gods’ minds.

While Dream may be known as the god of lies and deceit, he does hold close friendships and alliances, as are his relationship with his brother Ambustio (Sapnap) and his trusted friend Somnio (George). He is praised amongst mortals, not only because of the fact that they fear him greatly (rightfully so), but also because of the rumors and whispers that surround his name. Because among the few things that haven’t been lost to the years lies the knowledge that Dream can grant miracles.

Sapnap ; Ambustio — God of fire

Sapnap, otherwise known as Ambustio, is the middle child of their celestial family. He is known for his fiery temper, as well as his lack of restraint when it comes to certain aspects of his godly duties. He’s known for butting heads with Tommy — and unlike Wilbur and Tommy’s fights — they rarely ever end in agreements or apologies. Regardless, he cares for his family — even if he may hide said care underneath walls and walls of steel. Sapnap is often aligned with Dream and Somnio — three gods with a limitless capability for chaos.

Niki ; Nihachu — Goddess of the four seasons (formerly)

Niki, otherwise known as Nihachu, was the former goddess of the four seasons. Back when she resided in Olympus, she used to spend her days with Wilbur and Techno. Although no one has ever dared to say it out loud, it is widely thought among gods that Niki was Technoblade’s last friendship, his last straw — once she was gone, there was no reason for him to remain in contact with the rest of his family. Although Niki has not set foot in her former home since her banishment, her presence still remains among the marble hallways. For an instance, Wilbur’s corner in Olympus has beautiful blossoms that bloom in vines around the columns. Dream’s former balcony, on the other hand, has bushes of thorns that grow over, and over, and over again.

As for Niki’s current state, it is widely unknown — even to gods like Wilbur or even Dream. All that is known is that she roams the mortal plane, watching as life and death weave themselves into the mortality of humans.

George; Somnio — God of sleep

Somnio’s origins are rather distorted among mortals. Every tale seems to develop differently than the others — some believe he was merely a dream of Philza’s that materialized into the immortal plane, whereas others believe he was created to balance the god of deception and the god of fire. Either way, George is not related to the others through blood, though he’s come to earn the title of brother through the centuries.

Somnio is a rather enigmatic character. The myths that surround him are rather — vague, if not completely made up by mortals. Time has carried the truth with it, leaving only rumors and mortal tales. And although he’s got countless temples and celebrations in his name, George happens to be the one god that has never — ever — set foot in the mortal realm. The reason why? No one has tangible answer — not even the gods themselves.

Despite never wandering around the vast lands of the human realm, it seems like all mortals are able to recall his features to perfection. It’s strange... almost like they saw it in a dream.

Tommy ; Faeles — God of trickery and thieves

Tommy is the youngest god yet, only narrowly falling behind Tubbo. He’s reckless and mischievous— much to other gods’ irritation. He, however, is also the exception. Because while his godly title may not sound like much, he carries a heavy potential within him.

Not many things manage to surprise gods — after centuries of existing, you’d think they’ve already seen everything. Tommy was once again there to prove them wrong. When he came into existence, there was something... peculiar about him. Something almost unheard of, something rare — even among celestial beings. Tommy was born with a pair of wings. Other than Philza, god of all gods, he’s the only member of Olympus that has them. Red wings, feathers seeming as if they were carefully hand painted with the seeds of a pomegranate. He struggled greatly with them during his first decades as a god, never quite managing to fit in — the wings quickly became a reminder of who he should look up to, but would never become. With time, of course, he learned to embrace them, soon becoming a messenger of sorts among gods.

Tubbo ; Alveare — God of wildlife

Tubbo is a god particularly praised by mortals, often being portrayed as a deity of nature. He’s grown to become symbol of peace and youth among humans, and has several festivities celebrated in his name. When it comes to myths and tales about him, the most prevalent tend to be ones that associate him with Nihachu, granting them a stringer sibling bond through a sort of mentor-mentee relationship. Tubbo is mostly associated with Tommy, as his rather passive nature tends to become more chaotic whenever they’re around each other.

Ranboo ; Praetereo — Demigod of memories

There is little to nothing known about Ranboo — not due to some expertly hidden truths, but rather because of his recent arrival to the celestial realm. Ranboo is the youngest of all the gods that inhabit Olympus, having recently found out about his celestial heritage. Although there are a few villages in the north that hold temples in Ranboo’s name, his name is merely an echo among men and myths.

Ranboo mostly keeps to himself, with the exception of his friendship with both Tommy and Tubbo. They’ve undoubtedly made his transition into this new life of his much swifter and easier on him. Had they not been there for him... he’s not sure how he would’ve handled it. After all, he used to be a mere blacksmith in a small village at the edge of a map — a life where gods seemed so powerful, so angelic, so... distant.

BONUS:

Philza — God of all gods

Philza is basically the father to most gods, and even to those he may not be related through blood, he still treats them as children of his own. While he’s kind and nurturing, he also tends to be rather distant — not by choice, but due to his status as a celestial being and the duties that come with it.

Mumza — Goddess of life and death

Not much is known about Mumza, other than she’s the mother of most gods that reside in Olympus. She’s thought to be the only god that doesn’t live with the others, and rather spends her days roaming the earth, guiding mortal souls into the afterlife. Not many gods get the chance to interact with her — but those that do, however, often describe her as a caring yet determined deity, always carrying the love she feels towards her family with her.

(yes i know it’s a really shitty family chart thing but i’m a writer not a graphic designer 🥲)

so basically: techno, wilbur, and dream are the eldest. niki and sapnap are the middle kids. tommy and tubbo are the youngest. ranboo is a demigod (who’s his godly parent, you ask? uh-). as for george he just... is.

#blood cw #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dani writes mcyt #dani writes dream smp #dream smp au #mcyt imagine #dream smp gods au #dsmp au #dream smp #mcyt fanfiction #god!wilbur soot #god!dreamwastaken #sbi gods au #dani’s dsmp gods au #dani’s dsmp au

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the-kaedageist · 3 years

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This scene was cut from my most recent chapter of More Things in Heaven and Earth, and as it is cute and not spoilery, I thought I would post it here! You don’t really need any familiarity with that fic to enjoy this interlude, other than knowing that Caleb is currently in Guinevere’s body and Essek is in Oskar’s, and they are in Rexxentrum.

---------------------------------------------

As they made their way back through the gate to the Shimmer Ward, Caleb shaded his eyes against the setting sun, struck by another idea. “It is nearly time for dinner,” he said, “and I know just the place, if you are interested?”

Essek nodded. Caleb began to lead him back through the streets of the Shimmer Ward, towards Soltryce and the neighborhoods that he’d frequented in his youth. Things here and there were different – it was hard to say if it was due to time’s passage or the fact that they were in another universe – but the majority of the city remained the same, and Caleb began to grow excited at the thought of sharing his favorite beer hall with Essek. Perhaps he could invite him for a dance…

They came to a stop in front of the place where the beer hall should have stood. Caleb glared with utter disdain at the upscale wine bar that had taken its place.

Essek wandered up to the window and peered inside curiously, his eyes alight. “This is where you intended to take me?” he asked with a small, pleased smile.

Caleb bit his lip, his frustration dying as quickly as it had flared up in the face of Essek’s enthusiasm. “It was intended to be a beer hall,” he said. “This was my, ah, old haunt when I was a student; it appears, in this world, that it has been gentrified. But I think you would be interested in trying it anyway?”

“I have not had as many opportunities to sample Empire wines as I would have liked,” Essek said. “Shall we?”

The wine bar that had replaced Hofbräuhaus had a cozy, dark interior lit with magical fairy lights, with a dimly lit map of the Menagerie Coast painted across the side and large, plush booths lining the walls The new ownership had retained the dance floor that featured so prominently in Caleb’s memories, but redecorated it with dark, stained wood flooring and lovely crimson curtains. Beautiful carvings of Nicodranas and other cities of the Menagerie Coast dotted the walls, and Caleb found his gaze caught by a particularly fetching relief of a very familiar building as he and Essek were led to a small, out of the way booth. The Lavish Chateau looked very similar in this world, it would seem, and he was immensely pleased to see it still existed.

They were seated in a booth that was plush beyond belief; Caleb immediately sunk into the crushed velvet of the upholstery. Across from him, Essek’s eyes crinkled into a smile as the dragonborn host left them with menus etched in a tiny, neat hand and glasses of water.

It was absurdly high class, far more than the beer hall had been. Essek looked positively delighted by every detail.

Caleb glanced down at the menu, squinting to read the details. “They have Lionett wine,” he said immediately, his eye catching on the familiar name.

Essek raised an eyebrow. “Beauregard’s family?”

“Interesting that the décor is themed after the Menagerie Coast, yet the wine is from the Empire,” Caleb observed.

A stuffy-looking waiter popped up at his elbow, surprising him. “Actually, we carry a wide variety of selections from all across the Marrow Valley, western Wynandir, and the Menagerie Coast,” the man said. He was wearing spectacles and had a neat little moustache, exactly as Caleb would have expected of such a place.

“And eastern Wynandir?” Essek asked, his expression deeply serious, which Caleb had learned was one of his tells that he was absolutely fucking with someone. “I have heard the Dynasty has many fine vintages.”

The waiter scoffed. “I’m sure they do, but you try getting those shipped into Rexxentrum with the war on. Might I suggest a bottle of ’20 Plumgroves Red? That was the year the hurricane swept through Feolinn, and only 300 bottles were ever produced. A rare delicacy, to be sure.”

Essek’s eyes lit up.

“And undoubtably quite expensive,” Caleb said carefully, immediately knowing they didn’t have the cash for such a purchase. “I think we are looking for something more…affordable.”

The waiter didn’t even blink, reaching into his pocket and whisking out two more menus. “Here is our tasting menu, which may be more to your purse’s liking,” he said. Despite the lack of judgment in his voice, he’d lost much of his salesman’s panache with the realization that they weren’t high rollers.

Essek scanned the smaller menu. “I think perhaps we would be interested in the Feolinn sampler,” he said. He glanced up at Caleb. “If that is to your liking?”

Caleb smiled. “Anything you wish to try, my friend.” They also put in an order for a few of the small-plate dinner items in the Menagerie Coast style to be shared between them and the waiter left them to themselves, returning a few moments later with the sampler of Feolinn wines.

Essek sipped at the first offering the moment the waiter had vanished, closing his eyes while tasting it. Caleb watched, amused and just enjoying being present with him, distracting him from the events of the coming day; he could focus just on Essek, his reactions and his soft questions and his occasional smile, with soft music from the small quartet in the corner. Despite his pique at his favorite beer hall being replaced, the wine bar’s romantic atmosphere was absolutely perfect.

“How is it?” he asked as Essek sipped the first sampler once more.

He made a face. “Interesting. Drier than most Dynasty vintages, although I suppose perhaps that is the style.”

“I had no idea you were as much a wine snob as Beauregard,” Caleb said with a laugh. “Although I suppose you did bring us that expensive bottle back in Rosohna.”

“Wine was one of the markers of status in my family,” Essek said. “I was trained to know it well.” He sampled the second option, his face much more agreeable. “This is much better,” he added.

“We shall have to bring you and Beauregard out to have wine together,” Caleb said with a small smile. “I think you will find much to speak on.”

The small plates arrived soon after, with samplings of various types of Menagerie Coast fare – richly seasoned carrots and asparagus, a delightful mix of seafoods, and some interesting spiced potato fritters. Caleb and Essek split the dishes between them, and it was quite nice to indulge in dinner, just the two of them, in a city that had once captured his heart and then broken it into a million pieces.

By the time they finished eating, Essek had already snagged the waiter for a second sampler, this time of Marrow Valley wines. Caleb could feel a pleasant tipsiness settling through him; he was used to having much more alcohol tolerance than Guinevere.

He looked over at Essek, who was critiquing his current sampler of wine with a delighted expression on his face that suggested he’d rather be nowhere else but there. Caleb couldn’t draw his eyes away. Even in a body that was not his own, in a world that was completely foreign, Essek was the brightest thing in the room.

Essek stopped speaking mid-sentence when he caught Caleb’s stare. “What?” he asked.

Caleb knew the smile that spread across his face was far too fond, but had absolutely no incentive to hide it. “It is nice, to see you so passionate.”

A flush went up the back of Essek’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. The small quartet in the corner struck up a new tune, soft and romantic. A few patrons from other booths began to move to the dance floor, and Caleb had the sudden impression that this was a popular date spot.

He reached over and took Essek’s hand, not sure if it was the haze of the alcohol, the rich attraction between them, or the strangeness of this world, but caught up in the magic of him all the same. It was strange, to realize that despite the revelations of the evening before, despite the coming day with all of its challenges, Caleb was happy.

#critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr fanfic #cr ficlet #cr fic #my fics #tusk love: the behemoth #this has barely been edited so be kind lol

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wornoutmouse · 3 years

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Can you please do a Midnight x Reader x Aizawa? After the one we’re the reader was stuck in elevator, my mind has been racing with the idea.

When I tell you my ability to focus was so bad while writing this one it’s not even funny. But alas these requests are to help me practice when I have to write random stuff in college

After the first initial “meeting” between you and Aizawa, you two came to an understanding. And by understanding you mean he would find you after class and fuck you behind a random closet or classroom. You felt the slightest bit cheap as you slipped your panties over your used cunt, but you still could “feel the love” as Aizawa walked you to your dorm room for the rest of the evening.

Something that you couldn’t help but notice, however, was the way pro-hero Midnight began showing a little more than a passing interest in the relationship that you and the hero teacher had shaped for each other.

Often she’d stop the two of you on your weekly path back to your quarters with baseless conversation as her hands conveniently found themselves touching you in some shape or form. “Y/n, my young hero friend, you are looking absolutely delectable today!” You laugh tiredly as Midnight slung her arm over your shoulder.

As the two of you walked, Midnight busied herself with small talk. The feeling of her thumb tracing the skin on your neck sent tremors down your spine and it took inner strength for you not to react when the rough pad of her finger dragged against a far-from-faded hickey left behind by her colleague.

“What’s with the stiffness my dear?” She mumbled out lowly against your ear with a small smirk on your face. You ignore her as you walk into your room and thank her for the company. A chill of both fear and slight curiosity overtook your features as a knowing look crossed the woman’s face.

These passing interactions went over your head completely as weeks went by and for a while, the strange behavior was completely forgotten in your mind. It only came to your attention again when you entered your room and found both teachers of interest waiting for you in your room.

It was silent as you sat your book bag next to your closet. Aizawa was leaning against your left wall while Midnight was seated on your bed, legs crossed in elegance. “What’s going on in here?”

Shouta looks at Midnight in a way to signal her silence for now. “Nemuri and I want to propose an.... experiment of sorts.” The way they were both looking at you left little to the imagination regarding what these ‘experiments’ would entail.

Midnig- Nemuri, sat up straighter with renewed interests as her dark purple eyes raked over your form. “You just don’t realize how long I’ve been thinking of sinking my teeth in a spry young thing like yourself!” You were taken aback due to the unexpected statement.

Aizawa shrugged off his jumper while watching you venture further into your room. The atmosphere was heavy, and from your hero training, you could tell both bodies were tense as if waiting for you to bolt at any minute. The average person would in most circumstances, but you felt a tremor of excitement from the thought of a new experience.

You confidently walked towards Nemuri, placing your hands on her shoulders as you came to straddle her. “Oh, we have a passionate one on our hands!” Aizawa’s deep chuckle could be heard from behind you, distracting you for just enough time that Nemuri could pull you closer. “Well we’ve been screwing long enough, it would be a shame if she was still jumpy.”

Her hands were different from the familiar ones of Shouta’s that you had come accustomed to. While his hands were large and battle-worn, hers were soft and petite but still managed to hold the same power a great hero should.

Nemuri wasted no time fondling your plump ass as her eyes studied you predatorily. Outside your line of sight, Aizawa had settled down on a small stool you had in the corner of your room. The lower half of his jumper was still pulled up his legs with only his dick being in view. Neumuri kissed you deeply and you can faintly taste a sweet lip bomb on her mouth.

When you pull away, a small smirk is rested on her plump lips as she licks them. Leaning to look behind you she sends Shouta a look, “You mind if I hinder our darling a bit?”

“Do whatever you want but I am getting impatient.” Nemuri wasted no time shoving you off her lap and pushing you back down on the bed. Delving her hand in her cleavage, she pulls out a dark blue fabric. Getting the message, you scoot closer and relax as you felt warm silk being tied around your eyes.

The loss of one sense, heightened others, making the room seem larger than it had before. Your clothes are removed one by one making a small noise as it crumples to the floor. Sitting naked in a room you can’t see, as hands roam your body like a map. You feel them slide along your slick ponytail that had long since become frayed from sweat.

Your legs are raised to rest on presumably Nemuri’s shoulders and you reflexively look down though your sight was hindered. A shiver crawled up your spine from her warm breath hitting your thighs. The mattress dips next to you and your head is turned with a firm hand, “Open your mouth.” You smirk, “I don’t even get a please?”

Aizawa grunts and his thumb tapped your chin impatiently. You open your mouth, allowing your tongue to rest over your bottom teeth, and no time is wasted when Aizawa rubs the head of his dick on your wet muscle. An equally wet muscle is pressing against your ass and you make a noise of confusion.

Nemuri’s silky voice is heard slightly muffled, “Relax, and let me take care of you dear.” Her request is followed as you allow Aizawa to turn your head more in order to push his cock deeper inside. You wrap your lips around his shaft but your face is tapped again, “Don’t suck, just let me use your throat.”

A slight huff is all you can do before relaxing your jaw and letting him buck his hips against your chin. The salty musk emanating off of him was familiar and you quickly fell into your comfortable position as a breathing fleshlight.

Aizawa’s movements were lazy and self-pleasuring but Midnight had other plans. The rapid movements her tongue made were short yet precise as it coaxed your clit from under its protective hood. She could feel your heartbeat on her tongue every time she dragged the rough muscle over the fleshy button so it was only so long until your pussy was wet enough to start painting her face and chin.

Nevertheless, she continued fascinated by your personal fragrance and taste.

Two pairs of predator-like eyes gazed at your lax body as it sat poised with feminine grace. You had soft curves in all the right directions with a nice squish factor. The feeling of strong trained legs on Nemuri’s shoulders, gave her a sense of duty and power when they began to twitch every so often.

Atop your head, Aizawa’s fingers twitched with the urge to clench hair too gelled down to breakthrough. “Oh, your mouth is so damn sexy and hot for me.” Nemuri giggled, stopping for a breath, “I don’t know how you don’t spend time down here for hours.” Your eyes were half-closed as your lust-ridden state forced your eyes to only focus on the black abyss the silk cloth around your eyes.

The rumbling sound you made as Nemuri returned to your cunt, vibrated Shouta’s balls making them tighten as he spurted hot cum down your throat. You swallowed it as you were taught long ago and wait for further instructions. Aizawa would be out of commission having already come twice today so now you were at the mercy of the fragrance hero.

Licking her lips, Neumuri sucked on her fingers making them slick with saliva before pressing them inside you all the way to the knuckle. Her hands poked and prodded with every twist of her wrist as she switched from rubbing your wall to searching for your most sensitive spots. “Shouta dear, can you please get me my things.”

Behind you, still on the bed, Aizawa grumbled, “You get it yourself woman.” Nemuri huffed with a pout you couldn’t see and you clenched down as her fingers exited you. The shuffling movement from every corner made you more aware of your vulnerable position. You squeaked as a calloused hand came down with a hard slap before its respective finger resumed Nemuri’s pace.

Your back arches as you grinding against his hand behind for stimulation against your thriving clit. You can hear a liquid being squeezed out of a bottle but your focus is taken once again as Aizawa’s other hand pinches at your nipple.

You turn your head to follow the steady noise of footsteps coming closer. A faint sweet smell filled your nose, “What is that?” Lips press gently against yours, Nemuri moans as she caresses your bottom lip with her tongue. “Just a relaxer my dear, no need to fret.”

As the scent got stronger, your skin felt warmer, the constant circles Aizawa’s finger rubbed onto your clit felt like flames. Your back arched and sweat gathered on your brow. “She’s getting very sensitive.” Aizawa chuckled. From behind you could feel his interests peeking in thoughts of another round.

Your hips bucked uncontrollably when you feel the head of Nemuri’s artificial cock rubbing against you. “Please!” You rolled your eyes behind your blindfold at the sound of your teachers cooing at you mockingly.

Midnight positions her strap against your twitching hole. Angling her hips, Midnight dips the head of it inside of you, watching you clench around it before she pulls it away. Aizawa’s fingers form a V surrounding your cunt as he rubs soothingly around it, no longer touching your clit directly. “You guys are assholes, please just fuck me.” You squirm against Aizawa, not appreciating the small minuscule touches they give you.

Your legs are hoisted further and your body scoots down. Ironically Aizawa’s exposed member rubs against your head in the process but you have no time to dwell on it once Nemuri thrusts inside of you. “Fuck!” Experienced hips are slamming against you as Midnight fucks you with precision. “Come on pretty girl, cum for Ms. Midnight.”

Your thoughts, jumbled by the constant in and out motions of Nemuri, and you are unable to decipher who the order is coming from. Either way, you find yourself yelling with pleasure. Aizawa turns your head to the side and you feel something wet, sliding along your face. “You’re being too loud.” It’s a brief struggle to get him in your mouth as the force of Nemuri’s thrusts forces your body up against Aizawa’s, but the taste of old cum is immediate yet weak on your tongue as you lick around his needy cock.

Nemuri leans over you more, grinding against you while simultaneously stimulating herself. High moans leave her soft pink lips and Shouta wastes no time devouring them. Teeth clatter together as Nemuri struggles to focus on fucking you. Aizawa knows just how to kiss Nemuri to make her legs weak. You whimper feeling her large chest against your face and you give up Aizawa’s cock in favor of sucking on her pert nipples. The sound of her pretty moans quickly becomes your favorite as fingers try once again to curl into your slicked hair, this time succeeding due to the sharp pain your teeth deliver from nibbling on the warm mounds.

Sitting up, Nemuri shimmies out of her harness. You both moan as she grinds your squishy mound against hers, combing your fluids in a sinful mixture. You grip her hips and raise yours to add more friction. The sound of your sweet essence flowing makes Aizawa throb painfully. However, instead of disrupting your impending orgasms, he helps by slotting his hand between the both of you causing the roughness of his hand to provide more friction. “Yes, Please.” “I’m so close.” is all that can be muttered.

The nonchalant look Aizawa gave, could only be described as loving admiration while he watched Nemuri hold your face ever so gently to be brought into a lustful kiss. It’s messy the way your tongues intertwine each other in fruitless attempts at muffling the sobs wracking your bodies as you cum over each other. Aizawa pulls his hand away and scoffs when he notices how wet his fingers are. Nemuri takes them and licks around his fingers to clean them while you watch from below with drooping eyes.

As tired as you both are, Aizawa makes it known that you weren’t done till he was done. The smell of sweat and musk is evident as Aizawa angles his lower body over your face. You open your mouth, sucking on his balls gently meanwhile Nemuri takes on the task of deep throating him. The view of two beautiful women such as yourselves sucking him off was almost too much as he tossed his head back in a low groan.

Inside your mouth, you can feel his balls go from twitching orbs to impossibly tight as he moaned brokenly above. The sound he makes is almost as pitiful as a squeak when Neumri sucks hard for the final time. Her throat is flooded with cum that she shamelessly swallows down despite the most likely off-putting taste. “Always a slut aren’t you Midnight?”

She wipes her face with the grace of a queen only to lick the excess cum off her fingers with the mannerisms of a commonplace whore. “Only for you Shouta.”

In the end, you never did get the blindfold taken off.

#aizawa x reader #midnight x reader #mha smut #black reader #mha x black reader

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kykyonthemoon · 3 years

Text

A Midsummer Night's Dream

A Childe/ Tartaglia x Lumine Fanfic

During The Summer Festival in Inazuma, Lumine encountered a kitsune-masked man. He was strange, yet so familiar. Who could he be?...

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When Lumine and Paimon set foot in Inazuma, the weather was midsummer. In the sweltering air, the streets strewn with cherry blossoms became ever more bustling. The Summer Festival had arrived, with residents across Inazuma putting aside their daily worries to enjoy the best things summer had to offer.

Even travelers like Lumine and Paimon could not resist being invited to the festival. The lady from Kamisato house had asked Lumine and Paimon to accompany her, but something unexpected caused her to make another appointment. Determined not to miss the occasion, Lumine and Paimon agreed to take to the streets in new outfits that Ayaka had sent them.

Inazuma clothing is multi-layered and slightly harder to wear than previously worn by Lumine. In the summer, people do not wear too many layers due to the hot weather. As she put on the yukata, Lumine secretly admired its beauty: each needle line was very neat and beautiful, the outfit was pale yellow, dotted with cherry blossoms, especially it was not as hot as she had thought. There was also a hand fan made of bamboo and fabric of the same color as her yukata, which featured koi fish. Lumine remembered that Ayaka once told her about the types of fans, and this one was called “uchiwa,” and the koi pattern symbolized good luck.

“Traveler! You look beautiful!”

Lumine turned to her companion. Paimon wore the same patterned yukata as her, but it was pink and white. Her little friend looked more adorable than ever.

“I was thinking if my dress is a bit tight. If Paimon can’t eat anything tonight, I’ll be so angry at the Kamisato!”

Lumine burst into laughter.

The bustling city of Inazuma greeted them in the glorious sunset. On both sides of the road, colorful lanterns were lit. Everywhere was filled with different restaurants and stalls; flowers, prayer charms, masks, and decorations that extend all the way to Amakane Island. The most sold was, of course, food. Needless to say, Paimon loved to be here.

“Whoa! What a crowd!” Paimon remarked as they mingled with the group of walkers. “Don’t leave me behind, Traveler!”

However, it was Lumine who was left behind when Paimon was caught up in the roadside food stalls. The little companion flew up and then swooped down on literally every stall she saw, as they offered free tastings. A few minutes later, Lumine could not see Paimon anymore.

Lumine could not fly like Paimon. She had to squeeze through the stream of smiling and talking people to find her friend. Inazuma City is large, with small streets intertwined and connected to one another. After a long search, Lumine accepted the fact that she had lost Paimon.

Lumine sighed. It’s also unclear where she was on the map of Inazuma City. She wandered alone, looking at the streets and rolled her eyes to every corner to see if Paimon was somewhere around. Not paying attention to the path, she suddenly bumped into someone's back.

“Sorry… I’m sorry!” Lumine said, embarrassed.

In front of her was a white yukata patterned with light blue waves. Whoever she bumped into was much taller than her. Then, he turned around.

Lumine noticed that he was wearing a kitsune mask on his face. Although his face was unknown to her, his appearance was very familiar; tall and slim, with short, choppy orange hair, even his voice was like that person.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Lumine was frozen for a moment.

"You're not hurt, are you? You should be careful in such a crowded place like this. I can’t bear to see a beautiful lady like you get hurt."

Lumine frowned. Even these teasing words were very similar to a person she knew.

"We've met before, haven't we?" She asked frankly. Lumine does not like to play the vague game.

The one in kitsune mask laughed out loud:

“Quite a bold young lady, aren’t you? Perhaps we’ve met, in my sweetest dreams.”

Lumine blushed. She was both embarrassed and a little angry. How dared a stranger make fun of her like that?

“If you’re not the person I know, then I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Saying so, Lumine was about to leave, but the man stopped her.

"Wait. I'm sorry I teased you. But you look a little lost, Miss. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Lumine weighed in on it a bit. She really needed to find Paimon and get back to the inn. Yet was this stranger trustworthy?

“Are you a local?” Lumine asked.

"No. I'm an outsider, just like you. The only difference is that I've been here for a while. I have some personal business here."

If it's a private matter, it's best not to ask. Lumine thought so. She hesitated for a moment and replied:

"I'm actually looking for my friends. I’ve just lost her."

"Then you've met the right person. I know every corner around here."

Seeing that Lumine did not believe him, the man said, "Come on, don't look at me like that! I just want to help a far-away traveler. That’s all."

"All right." Lumine replied. "But if you ask for mora, I don't have much..."

The masked man looked at her for a moment and then laughed so loudly that passers-by stared at them.

"Haha! Miss, you're funny! Why do you think my kindness needs to be reciprocated?"

Lumine paused for a moment. Her days of adventure from Mondstadt to Liyue, and now Inazuma, helped her come to terms with one thing: everything has a price. In other words, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

"Well... I'm sorry I didn't think right about you..." Lumine replied.

"Then, would you accept my help?"

Lumine nodded and said nothing more, but she thought that she would definitely repay today's favor.

They walked through the crowded streets. The masked man told Lumine about Inazuma and about the culture here. It helped widening her perspectives. If she hadn't bothered to look for Paimon, she would have enjoyed the whole atmosphere.

But there's no denying that everything at the Summer Festival was so special and distracted her over and over again. She came across a mask stall by the side of the road and turned to look at the person next to her.

"Do you want to buy a mask too, Miss?" He asked.

"Not really... I'm just thinking your mask is more beautiful and elaborate than what they sell."

The masked man adjusted his mask a little. Lumine saw him laughing.

"Of course. This is something I painted myself! If you want, I'll paint a same one for you."

Lumine waved her hand. “No, there's no need…” she said, but he pulled her into a nearby stall and asked the owner about the masks which customers could paint themselves.

Lumine watched intently as he painted the mask with red, black lines, and yellow dots. Moments later, he gave it to her.

"Here. For you."

Lumine picked up the mask, examining it with amusement.

"Thank you."

"Let me put it on for you."

Lumine looked up at him sheepishly.

"I... I can wear it myself."

Seemingly unable to hear her say anything, he took the mask and put it on one side of her hair.

"T-Thank you..." Lumine said, gazing down at her feet.

The man smiled.

"Hey, I don't even know your name." Lumine said as they continued to go.

"Call me Mr. Kitsune. The kids in Inazuma call me that." He replied and waved to a group of children in the distance.

He seemed to be very loved by children. Lumine thinks that any person who is liked by children cannot be evil by nature. Suddenly she thought of someone she knew. Could it be...? But how could a Harbinger like him be here? She looked around. There's no sight of the Fatui nearby. Was it all just her imagination?

The two walked into a smaller yet not less crowded street. Immediately, Lumine’s attention was caught by a crowd playing a very interesting game. They gathered next to a large pot of water, inside there were many goldfish. Each person held a seemingly fragile racket made out of paper, and tried to get the fish into their little bucket as much as possible during a specific amount of time.

"Do you want to try it?" Mr. Kitsune asked after seeing Lumine’s interest in the game for a long time.

Lumine nodded.

Mr. Kitsune said something to the woman who appeared to be the owner there, and she handed them two rackets and two small buckets.

In excitement, Lumine sat down and Mr. Kitsune sat next to her. Picking up turned out to be much more difficult than it seemed. The racket was flat and very easy to tear, and the dodgy fish seemed to have learned to avoid players and irritate them, skillfully.

Lumine's racket was torn shortly after she thought she had picked up the first fish. She looked to the side. Mr. Kitsune gave her a new one.

"Thank you." Lumine responded and the excitement returned. There's no way she’s going to lose to these goldfish!

After a hard fight, Lumine finally got her first fish. She eagerly turned to Mr. Kitsune to show it off, but then her face went sullen immediately when she saw his bucket full of fish. What was more obnoxious was that he reseted his head on one hand and caught the fish only with the other hand. His attitude of fish-picking was very relaxed, not as strenuous as Lumine's at all.

"How did you get so many fish?" She asked.

"Oh... I don't know. Perhaps it’s my talent?"

He had just finished speaking when another fish fell into his bucket. Lumine gave up and dropped her racket into the bucket. She sat and watched him pick up the fish. From time to time, she pointed to the fish she wanted him to catch.

“This one! It has nice color.”

"You do know that we have to return the fish after the game, right?" He laughed and moved his hand to pick up the fish Lumine wanted.

After the time was up, Mr. Kitsune got the highest prize: a stuffed fox. He gave it to Lumine.

"It does look like you." Lumine looked at the fox in her hands and commented as the two left. It has a soft orange fur, a white belly and four black legs.

"Then every time you see it, you will think of me."

He replied without a hint of shame. But Lumine was blushing like a red tomato. Seemingly aware of her intention to return the fox, he said:

"In Inazuma, it is considered disrespectful to return the given gifts.”

Lumine pinched the fox's nose with a force. She thought about turning it into a sandbag for Paimon to practice her fighting skills, but then it was also too cute for that.

After coming to the end of the street, Lumine realized they had reached the gate of Inazuma. The outside of the city was as bustling as the inside, but the air was fresh and pleasant thanks to the sea. The moon was high, and Paimon was still nowhere to be seen.

Looking around for a moment, Mr. Kitsune said:

"Maybe your friend has gone to Amakane Island. It is the best place to watch the fireworks. Besides, there is also a well-known street stall selling delicious oden.”

Perhaps Paimon would not go there to see the fireworks, but for the food, yes. Lumine agreed to join Mr. Kitsune on the walk to Amakane Island to find her friend. They walked a long way across the coast. Along the way, Lumine noticed that the people of Inazuma City were also heading to the island as they were mostly hands-to-hand couples with smiles. There were butterflies inside her stomach when she thought that walking side by side with Mr. Kitsune like this made them look like a couple.

"Tell me about your friend." Mr. Kitsune suddenly spoke up. "The one whom you thought I was."

Lumine mused. "I don't know if we're friends anymore..."

"What's wrong? Did he do something bad?"

"It could be put that way." Lumine recalled the mess that the Eleventh Harbinger of Fatui – Tartaglia had made in Liyue. Worse than that, he had taken advantage of her trust, leaving her caught up in a dispute between forces like a puppet. Even though everything had been resolved, she still could not let it go easily.

"If he's a bad guy, you should beat him to death and never speak to him again."

Those words made Lumine laugh.

"I do want to beat him up. But..." She paused for a moment and then continued. "There’s also a good side of him that changes my opinions on him. I wonder what his true face is."

They walked a little further. The sound of waves was caught in her ears. Lumine saw some crabs digging the sand and hiding from people in the distance.

"Everyone has their own masks to wear, Miss." Mr. Kitsune said. "One day, I hope he'll have the courage to take his mask off in front of you."

Lumine gazed up at the man wearing the fox mask next to her for a moment. Wasn’t he hiding his face from her too? What's that fox mask hiding that she didn’t know yet? But everyone has secrets, and Lumine is not much of a pryer.

As soon as they arrived at Amakane Island, Lumine’s nose was immediately attacked by the aroma of food emanating from street vendors. Perhaps she was really hungry after the hopeless search for Paimon, and a long walk to this place. Now Lumine just wanted to sit down and eat all the food that the people here had to offer.

Mr. Kitsune led Lumine to an oden stall. They were seated right in front of the counter and the smoke and aroma emanating from the kitchen in front of them made Lumine's stomach rumble louder than ever. There was no need to wait long, their food was served soon after. Lumine's bowl had a variety of food: fish balls, boiled eggs, fried tofu, radishes and even noodles. She happily picked up her chopsticks and grab the food, but then realized that Mr. Kitsune was still sitting and looking at his oden bowl in a rather contemplative way.

"Aren’t you going to eat?" Lumine asked.

"Ah..." Mr. Kitsune seemed confused. He picked up his bamboo chopsticks awkwardly.

That person doesn't even know how to hold a chopstick too... Lumine brushed that thought away as soon as it appeared. She should have let go of the obsession which was him for a long time. Somehow, in all the places she went and the people she met, Lumine was looking for such a familiar silhouette in the past.

"Here, let me show you." Lumine reached out her chopsticks to Mr. Kitsune and demonstrated how to hold them little by little. There were moments when their hands touched and Lumine found herself blushing more than necessary.

"You're so good!" Mr. Kitsune's remarks made Lumine's cheeks flush to the ears.

"Well... It's just a normal skill..." She replied, recalling her days at Liyue, when she had practiced holding chopsticks skillfully to pick up food before Paimon ate it all.

Lumine ate her oden and praised the chef's talent. She also kept her eyes on Mr. Kitsune. He merely lifted the mask a little to eat, and the place they sat was not bright enough for Lumine to see his face clearly.

After the oden, Lumine was once again invited by Mr. Kitsune to a tri-color dango treat. Realizing that she was being treated too much, she offered to pay for some octopus balls called takoyaki which later on she had quite a memory with it. It's a dish of spherical scones made of flour, with chopped octopus fillings and some other ingredients inside, then fried in a special pan that has a lot of semicircular concave parts. Lumine bought a square plate containing four takoyaki arranged neatly inside and she skewered one to her mouth.

“Wait!”

But It was too late for Mr. Kitsune, Lumine had put a whole round takoyaki in her mouth. She looked at him and wondered why he was leaning up as if he’s afraid her tongue was burnt. The food was cold enough to be eaten. But that's just what she thought.

When she bit into the crust and spilled the filling, Lumine knew why Mr. Kitsune had warned her. The filling was so hot that Lumine's tongue tip was on fire. She rushed a hand to her mouth, tears welling up. She tried to chew and swallow the food. Fortunately, it wasn't so hot to the point it actually burned her tongue.

Mr. Kitsune gave her a cool cup of tea. Lumine, after regaining her composure, noticed that he had been chuckled all along. She grimaced, took a sip of tea and said in a furious tone:

"You don't have to laugh at me like that."

Mr. Kitsune tried to suppress his laughter and replied, "Sorry... I've never seen anyone eating takoyaki in such a cute way."

Lumine's face was red, not knowing whether it was the food being too hot or because she was embarrassed.

Nearby, there was a place filled with tiny hexagonal wooden cards. Mr. Kitsune said Lumine could write her prayers on the card and hang it up. She took one and wrote her wish, hoping that she would soon be reunited with her twin brother. Mr. Kitsune just stood beside her, his eyes were looking away.

"You don’t have a prayer?"

"I don't need it." He replied. "My wish has already come true tonight."

Lumine wondered what his wish was, but she doubt that a mysterious man like him would let her know too much about himself.

They still could not find Paimon. Mr. Kitsune said that having gone to this place, at least they should see the fireworks. So Lumine and he climbed the moss-covered stone steps filled with weeds, through the red torii gates that had faded over the years. The whole road felt as the entrance to a wonderland with fireflies and magical forests.

There were also a few others walking up to the fireworks watching location. One of them accidentally bumped into Lumine causing her to slip. She thought she was going to fall, but Lumine was saved. She found herself in Mr. Kitsune's arm and her head on his shoulder. He stood just one step behind her. And then, Lumine caught his blue eyes.

They’re the same like someone’s…

Embarrassed, Lumine stood up. "T-Thank you..." She said, turning her face away.

Lumine was not used to walking on Inazuma wooden slippers. She blamed on them just to avoid thinking about the real cause of her confusion. Mr. Kitsune suddenly stood closer by her and said:

"Hold on to my hand, you won't fall again."

He did not look at Lumine but his hand was reaching out in front of her. Lumine hesitated but held on to it at last. They walked slowly up all the stone steps, to a cherry tree and sat down on a large rock, just in time for the very first fireworks to break out.

The night sky was lit up and there was a loud explosion. Colorful fireworks flew into the sky, then dissolved into hundreds of small rays of light. Lumine watched and admired their beauty. It was truly an ideal place to watch fireworks shoot from Inazuma City. Lumine turned to the man who brought her here.

"Though I can't find my friend, I'm happy that I’ve had a chance to enjoy the festival and watch the fireworks with you."

Mr. Kitsune seemed surprised and delighted.

"It is my honor to accompany you, Miss."

Lumine felt her cheeks burning up again. Perhaps all along the way, she had already known who the man in the kitsune mask really was.

"I hope that we'll see each other again soon."

* *

It was late at night. There was no more fireworks or laughter. Yet there was still a shadow of the person sitting under the cherry tree, even when the girl with him had already left for a while.

Next to him was a crimson mask, which seemed to exude a kind of dangerous and tempting power. But all his attention was on the harmless kitsune mask in his hand. All that happened tonight felt like a dream. Having known the Traveler had come to Inazuma, he still did not expect that she had found him herself, bumping into him among so many people on the street.

He had always wanted to see her again, ever since their farewell in Liyue. He constantly talked about her in letters to his family, as if they were very close friends; perhaps more than friends?

What could he expect, when fate always puts them on different sides of the battle? He fought for what he believes, and she always chose to help those who oppose him. But deep down in him was the desire to see her again, to see her smile at him once more. He wanted to touch her, but feared she would disappear like fireflies.

Therefore, having a walk with her, eating together and watching the fireworks next to her; everything happened tonight was a beautiful dream in the middle of the summer night. Delightful and sweet, yet came and fade away too quickly. After all, at least he knew she still remembered him.

If only she didn't. That way, she would not have to be upset when they meet again, maybe in another battle here in this land. She had hoped that they would see each other again soon, but he'd rather she not knew who was with her tonight.

Tartaglia put down the kitsune mask and picked up his Harbinger mask. He turned his gaze to the sky, praying silently that the stars would remember today for eternity. Then he put on the heavy mask and left.

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Au's note: It's been a while since my last Genshin fic. Hope you guys enjoy this one. I really love Japanese festivals in summer and this piece was inspired by those, and with the in-game activities/ atmosphere too of course!

My Genshin Masterlist: x

#uwu sorry for my rusty writing skills #genshin impact #fanfic #chilumi #childe x lumine #tartaglia x lumine #lumine #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact fanfic #fanfiction

54 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

Words: 8k

Summary: You, a shy Hufflepuff, have caught the eye of Fred Weasley.

Genre: fluff

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - did i just write pure fluff? wow. i’m learning.

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Fred Weasley doesn’t do things to impress others. He never has. Trying to please others is so far from his mind when playing one of his pranks that it’s almost laughable to think he and his twin brother do anything for the sake of attention. They live to amuse themselves, and nobody else.

But sometimes the reactions of others do catch his eye. It happens rarely, but there have been the odd times when Fred and George are fleeing from the scene of one of their usual messy pranks, and Fred will look over to see someone standing there, staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the scene in front of them, and he will turn back to the path and smile because - yet again - he has left somebody speechless.

More often than not these days, that person is you.

Fred doesn’t know much about you; you’re clearly very shy, hardly ever being spotted in the hallways unless you’re making your way to your next class, and even then you’re prone to keeping your head down, refusing to talk to anybody who wants to talk to you. Fred doesn’t know if you have any friends, if you want friends, if you’ve ever looked at him and wondered what it would be like to talk to him…

“So, Harry, tell me a bit about that one over there.”

Harry looks up from his breakfast plate, eyes still fogged from a night of no-doubt restless sleep. Beside him, Ron is still trying to wake himself up and Hermione is hastily flipping through a gargantuan textbook. It seems to Fred like the Chosen One may be the only one at this moment in time in a fit enough state to answer his pressing questions.

“Huh?” he replies.

Fred leans forward a little more, so close that his mouth is very nearly touching Harry’s ear. “That one over there.” He nods over to the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting on their own.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Y/N L/N? What about them?”

“They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

“I think so. I don’t really know too much about them; they’re quite quiet, really.”

“Yeah,” Fred and George say together. “We know.”

Harry raises a brow, flicking his gaze to the twins standing on either side of him. “Why? Are you both interested?”

“Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

Ron scoffs. “You? Getting in with Y/N L/N? Mate, that’s about as likely as Percy showing up for Christmas this year.”

Fred slaps Ron on the back of the head. “Shut your mouth, you git.”

“So, what? You really think you have a chance with them?” Harry asks.

Fred shifts uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this far. All he wanted was for Harry to tell him a bit about you and that be it - he was fairly confident he could handle the rest on his own using his incredible charm and humour.

But now these snotty little fifth years are making him second-guess his own abilities, which has never happened before in his seventeen years of life.

“I think so,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. “Why wouldn’t I have a chance? I’m charming, and witty, and-”

“And loud, and annoying, and centre of attention literally all the time,” Ginny finishes, waltzing into the conversation. She sits down next to Hermione, pinching a hash brown off Harry’s plate. “Y/N is the complete opposite of that. You’ll scare them away before you even get a chance to ask them out.��

Fred frowns. George says something in his twins defence, but Fred has stopped listening, instead choosing to glance over to where you’re still sitting, smiling shyly at the Hufflepuff boy who has just taken a seat next to you. It’s clear - and always has been clear - that you get plenty of attention - you just don’t want it. Fred has watched you get shy and awkward, shuffling away from people who so much as grin in your direction. Fred has even watched you scurry away when he walks past, and at this point, he isn’t even surprised; the scenes Fred finds him in are far from the types of scenes you’ll want to be caught in.

You really are very different people, and Fred isn’t stupid enough to deny that. Nonetheless, there’s something about you that has always caught his eye, from the day he was a puny little second year, watching you scramble up to the Sorting Hat. Even then he found himself staring at you, fingers crossed in the hopes you would get sorted into Gryffindor, that he could find an excuse to lead you to the Common Room himself - not Perfect Percy - but then you were being sorted into Hufflepuff and an awful long time went by in which Fred did nothing to pursue you.

But now he’s in his sixth year. If not now, then when?

“Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

Ron’s voice snaps Fred from his daze. He looks down and shrugs.

“Not really.”

“That's not like you,” says Ginny. “Have we actually found someone who makes you shy?”

Fred scowls. “I’m not shy. Y/N’s shy - I’m just respecting that and keeping my distance.”

“Good on you, mate,” says George, before he ducks his head down and whispers loudly in Harry’s ear, “Every time he sees them, he wets himself a little.”

Fred kicks his twin. “Would you lot give it a rest? I’ll talk to them today, alright? You’ll all see.”

“Oh, don’t wind him up,” Hermione tuts, slapping Ron on the arm when the group of youngsters start laughing.

“Oooh,” George says. “You’ve got Granger sticking up for you, Fred - who would have thought that would ever happen to us?”

“I think it’s cute that Fred likes Y/N,” says Hermione, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t know much about them, but I think someone bringing them out of their shell could do them a world of good.”

Fred can’t help but grin; the thought of it, of you actually giving him a chance - it makes him unnervingly happy. “Cheers, Hermione.”

Fred takes that tiny bit of assurance and carries it with him throughout the entire day - he doesn’t really know when he’s going to make his move, just that he is.

At some point.

He has no classes with you. He barely sees you in the hallways. He doesn’t share a common room with you - the situation is really not working in his favour, but Fred Weasley will not let such a drawback ruin his plans. He’ll find ways around it, just as he finds ways around everything.

The solution finally comes to him at 11:00pm.

He should be in bed. He knows he should be in bed, that if Filch were to see him right now, the old man would be going absolutely ballistic, overjoyed with the idea of giving another student a detention. Fred has the advantage of the Marauders Map, plus a lifetimes worth of sneaking around, but that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous.

He’s been out of bed after curfew plenty of times before, but never has he crept into another common room whilst doing it.

He heads towards the basement, checking the Marauders Map every few seconds to ensure Filch and his filthy cat are as far away as possible. His mind is working at a million miles per hour, because for the first time in his life, Fred is convinced he’s being stupid. The amount of protective charms that must be on the doors of these openings would be insane, and Fred is insane to think he could ever try and get past them, but god, he can’t go down to breakfast tomorrow without making some attempt to talk to you, just like he said he would, just like Hermione-

“Eep!”

Fred spins on his heel, nearly falling over a body of armour stood in the corner. Multiple paintings rouse from their sleep, and the ones that were already awake break into fits of giggles. Fred doesn’t even acknowledge the tiny noise that made him jump in the first place, instead choosing to desperately hush the paintings around him.

“Shut up. Sh! Filch will hear and then we’re all in trouble!”

“Speak for yourself, Weasley,” says Doogle Doolaly through a mouthful of giggles. Fred shoots the painting a glare before abruptly remembering what had caused him to stumble in the first place.

He spins around. To his surprise, you’re still there.

You, standing right in front of him with both hands clapped over your mouth, eyes wide. You’re wearing a pair of yellow bed robes, hair a mess. Fred has to take a minute to just stare.

And then, “What on Earth are you doing out of bed?”

Slowly you lower your hands, biting your lower lip as you stare right back at him; Fred, though pleased, finds this quite odd considering he’s so used to watching you avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I was walking.”

Your voice is quiet, timid.

Fred tilts his head. “Walking? At eleven at night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

You nod. Fred nods back. The two of you stand a good five feet apart, unsure of what to say or do to make the silence go away - of course, there’s so many things Fred wants to ask, considering he was previously convinced you would never step out of line, but none of those questions are appearing right now.

Fred, however, knows this silence can’t last forever, so he’s the one to make the first move in breaking it.

“You alright?”

You look up, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I was just wondering. You look like you’ve seen someone use an illegal curse or something.”

“Thanks.”

Fred’s stomach flips. “Not that you don’t look really pretty, because you do, but I’m just saying-”

“Why were you heading towards the Hufflepuff common room?”

Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

“How did you know that’s where I was going?”

“Because nobody else comes down here this late at night unless they’re a Hufflepuff coming back from detention.”

“You’re good at this, you know. Right little detective, you are.”

You shrug.

Fred sighs, rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I was just having an innocent little dander about. Those Gryffindor sixth years can be a rowdy bunch - it’s hard to get to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” You trace your eyes along his towering form, and for a moment, Fred is almost convinced you’re genuinely checking him out. It boosts his confidence a little. “Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep. I’m also sorry for making so much noise - you startled me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty scary person I’ve been told.”

Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so much a verbal thing. Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s run away when they make eye contact with me.” He raises a brow, smirks when he sees your own smile fade, replaced by a mild look of embarrassment because you both know exactly who Fred is talking about.

You cough and awkwardly kick at the floor. “Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s get a little shy.”

Fred’s confidence is really flooding back into his system now, and he doesn’t know why it feels different. This isn’t the confidence he carries around with him on a day-to-day basis, the confidence that allows him to play these big pranks without a care in the world. This is a type of confidence he has never felt before, makes him feel elated, like he can do anything.

He smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Fred Weasley, by the way.”

“I know.” Your eyes pop open for a brief second. “I mean - uh - Ron. Ron is your brother, right?”

“He is.”

“I know your brother. He’s in my year. Goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?”

“Right.”

You nod, biting your lower lip in that way Fred has learned you do quite often when you’re flustered. “I heard of you - uh - from him. Yeah.”

Fred nods. He stares at your flustered form, finding amusement in the way you quickly look to the floor, trying desperately to avoid his gaze which has apparently now become too much for you.

He chuckles and pushes himself away from the wall he found himself leaning upon. “It was lovely talking to you, Hufflepuff. Try not to run away next time and maybe we can talk again.”

You look up and nod, lips twitching. Fred grins right back, bows his head to you before he walks off down the corridor, pretty darn pleased with himself.

----

“So how did it go?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Ginny gasps, slapping Fred on the arm when her, Fred and George sit down to breakfast the next morning. “You kissed?”

Fred snickers. “No. But we spoke, and it was great. Y/N L/N is actually a bit of a rule breaker.”

Ginny raises a brow, reaching across George for a slice of toast. “Shut up.”

“He’s telling the truth,” says George, at the same time Fred says, “I’m telling the truth.”

“Wow. What were they doing to break the rules?”

“Walking about after curfew. Lucky I was there, or else Filch would have had them.”

Ginny scoffs. “Because god forbid anyone be as sneaky as you two.”

“Exactly,” the twins reply.

“So what was the conversation like?” Ginny prods. She wears a distracted gaze in the hopes that Fred won’t see just how curious she really is, but Fred sees right through her.

“It wasn’t bad,” he replies. “A bit short, but that’s easily fixed.”

“So you want to keep talking to them?”

Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

Ginny hums around the slice of toast in her mouth. “Cute, Fred. Cute.”

Fred opens his mouth to give a sarcastic retort, but gets abruptly distracted by the sight of you rising from the Hufflepuff table. He sits bolt upright, craning his neck to see over the heads of everybody else; you don’t spare him a glance, apparently retreating back to your usual, shy self. With your head ducked down and your books piled in your arms, you hastily make your way towards the exit.

Fred is standing up before he can even process he’s moved. Ginny and George watch him, both smiling maniacally as Fred utters a half-hearted goodbye and follows after you. He really has no plans for what he could possibly say when he finally catches up, but he’s decided to take every opportunity he possibly can.

He bustles out of the Great Hall, finding you only a few seconds after as you head back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, spinning around as Fred jumps onto the step just below the one you’re currently standing on. He pants dramatically, clutching his chest.

“You move quick.”

You glance over his shoulder, hugging your books a little tighter. “Hi, Fred. How was breakfast?”

“Oh, good. Great, actually. I - uh - had toast.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck; why is he suddenly nervous? “Where are you off to?”

“I have to go grab some books for my first few classes,” you reply, and Fred can’t help but note the slight tinge of amusement in your voice. “Where are you off to?”

Fred pauses; again, this was not something he necessarily thought through when he first decided to follow you out here. He really just wanted a chat, to hear your voice one more time before he was forced to go to classes.

He folds his arms over his chest as nonchalantly as he can manage, leaning against the banister. “I don’t think it’s right for a lovely wizard like yourself to be walking to class on your own; I thought I’d offer my services.”

You raise a brow, once again taking a cautious glance over Fred’s shoulder to ensure nobody is around to hear his flirtations; nonetheless, you make no attempt to stop him, which he takes as a relatively good sign. “Well, you can walk me to class if you like. I have to get my books first, though.”

Fred gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

And so you do. Fred follows you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room, where he is forced to wait outside whilst you gather your belongings. His stomach grumbles, evidence of his uneaten breakfast, but he doesn’t even care right now. Not when you walk out of the common room, all smiles and nervous glances. Fred offers you his arm, and it’s with only the slightest bit of hesitation that you take it and allow Fred to lead you back through the school hallways.

“What is it like in there?” he asks.

“In where?”

“The Hufflepuff common room. Surely you can hear all the house elves rattling about in the kitchens at night.”

You shake your head. “The walls are soundproof; did you know Muggles have soundproof things as well?”

Fred raises a brow. “You’re not obsessed with Muggle stuff, are you? My dad’s into all that stuff - I’ve heard enough of it for a lifetime.”

You giggle, and Fred is fairly certain his hand starts trembling.

“No, I’m not obsessed,” you say. “I do find some of it interesting, though. The similarities between our world and theirs.”

“Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

You shrug. Looking to the side, Fred can see your face suddenly change; what once was an expression of nerves and uncertainty is now one of interest and intrigue as Fred asks you questions on a topic you are clearly very invested in. It makes his heart lift, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop the smile from spreading and making it too obvious.

“A few I’ve picked up on,” you reply. “They still - like - wear clothes and stuff. Just different styles. And they live in houses, and go to school-”

“School? Don’t insult Hogwarts like that. Muggle school and wizard school aren’t even comparable.”

You furrow your brows, glancing up at Fred. “But they still learn.”

“Not the important stuff. Not like we do.”

“And what would you consider important?”

Fred hums, gazing wistfully into the distance. You giggle again. Finally, he says “aha!” and clicks, whirling on you. “Right, tell me this - do Muggles learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

You frown, grip tightening on his arm. “I don’t think so. They don’t have magic, so it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, but it’s important. What are they gonna do if a Dementor comes knocking on their front door?”

“There’s nothing they can do, even if they knew the basic stuff we know. They don’t have magic, Fred.”

Fred grunts. “Must be a hard life having to do everything by hand.”

“I agree.”

Fred chuckles, glancing down at you. Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a second before you bite your bottom lip and avert your gaze.

“Go on then,” Fred continues. “Tell me some more similarities. You’ve got me interested now.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You tilt your head in thought. “Well. . . I suppose the way their government system works is quite similar to ours.”

“Explain.”

“They have people in power. A system of higher-up’s, if you will, who control everything.”

“Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes I’d even argue they’re even more corrupt than ours.”

Fred’s eyes pop open. “Blimey. How has the Muggle world not completely broken down?”

You laugh. Full-on laugh, eyes squinting closed and head thrown back. Fred can’t even bring himself to laugh alongside you, suddenly too engrossed in your enjoyment to indulge in his own.

You hiccough yourself back to reality before looking up and saying, “Surely your dad could teach you all this stuff if he’s so interested in Muggle affairs?”

“He’s interested, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Doesn’t matter how many times Harry tells him what a telephone is, he still has no idea how it all works.” Fred shrugs. “Plus, I enjoy my lessons much more when you’re teaching them.”

You stiffen, lower lip hiding - yet again - behind your teeth. You swallow thickly, and before Fred can do anything, you’re unwinding your arm from his and picking up your pace, calling a quick, “I’m gonna be late!” over your shoulder. Fred falters mid-way, staring after you with his mouth dropped open and confusion making his stomach churn.

Someone crashes into his shoulder as you round the corner. “Nice one, mate.”

“Shut up, George.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going too well.”

“It’s - it’s going fine.” Fred curses under his breath - now you’ve got him stuttering? “They’re just a little shy. But I think they like me.”

“Oh yes, the most obvious sign of attraction - running away.”

----

Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

He’s only here for the sake of his mothers sanity; god only knows how Molly Weasley would react if he showed up at the Burrow six months early, claiming he was finished with school before he’d even managed to bag an acceptable amount of N.E.W.T’s.

But he doesn’t want to be here any more. He’s getting tired of forcing himself to listen to things he only half cares about, getting tired of being told off for things that - honestly - the teachers should just be used to by now. It’s not like they haven’t seen it for the past six years.

He grunts to himself as he and George walk out of History of Magic. Yet another boring lesson that seemed to drag on much longer than necessary; all Fred has to prove he was there at all is the doodle of a cat in the top hand corner of his notebook.

“I need a sleep,” George says. “His bloody voice exhausts me.”

Fred opens his mouth to respond, but his twin brother cuts him off by slapping a hand to his arm and pointing straight ahead.

Startled, Fred looks up. Standing by the gargoyle just outside History of Magic is you, hugging your books whilst awkwardly looking back and forth, as if afraid one of the passing students is going to stop and harass you.

George snickers. “Go on, mate. I think they’re looking for you.”

Before Fred can object, get himself together, George shoves him forward hard enough to make him stumble. Your head snaps up at the sound of Fred saying “You git!” and Fred is quick to lean against the wall, look at you and say, coolly, “Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

You stand up a little straighter, lips twitching. “Hi. How was class?”

“Boring.” He smirks. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

The unmistakable sound of George snorting as he passes by floats between you. You smile, giving Fred’s brother a nod before you turn back to Fred and say, “Do you fancy taking a little walk before break ends?”

Of all the things Fred expected to happen today, you asking him on a walk was certainly not one of them. It takes him a second to reply, and it’s only the realisation that you’re probably just as nervous as he is that he snaps out of it and nods.

You wind your arm through his without him having to offer; his cheeks are burning.

Together, you set off down the hall. It’s quiet for a little bit, Fred still trying to figure out what’s happening, and you inspecting each and every one of the sculptures you pass, as if too afraid to look over at Fred.

Finally, however, you break the silence. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Fred’s stomach jolts. “What are you sorry for?”

“For how I reacted. You were just being nice and I - uh - I don’t really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

Fred perks an eyebrow, glancing down at you with genuine curiosity. “I find that very hard to believe.” Because he does. He finds it downright unbelievable that compliments are not something you have grown used to across the five years spent in Hogwarts.

You shrug. “Well, believe it. I really appreciated what you said, but I just. . . I don’t know how to respond, or if you’re telling the truth-”

“I was definitely telling the truth.”

You bite your lip. “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It must have made you feel awful.”

Classic Hufflepuff behaviour - thinking more about other people’s feelings than their own.

“You know,” Fred drawls, “if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“No!”

Fred’s eyes snap down. You look back up at him, eyes wide before you realise the abruptness of your protestation and hastily avert your gaze to the floor.

“No,” you say, softer now. “I - uh - I don't think you should stop. I quite like it, actually.”

Fred smirks, keeping his eyes trained on you even as you fight desperately to look anywhere but him. “Do you fancy me, Y/N L/N?”

“Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

“I think you do.” He rubs his cheek against your own. “Just a little bit.”

You jerk away, slapping his arm. “Well, it’s not bloody difficult, is it?”

Fred falters, though his smile only widens. “What does that mean?”

You groan, pulling your arm from his yet again. Fred stumbles back, unable to help the laugh that bursts from his throat at the sight of your flustered state.

“I’m going to class,” you announce.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“I don’t have an answer to your question.” You stand there a little longer. With a smile still beaming, Fred watches as you take a single step forward, a step back, another step forward-

And then, as if telling yourself to just get it over with, you jump forward and press your lips to Fred’s cheek. His jaw drops open, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re spinning on your heel and rushing away, rounding the corner without so much as a wave in his direction.

Fred swallows thickly, reaching up to brush his fingers against the area you have just kissed, just like they do in those cheesy Muggle movies his mum is so fond of. He can’t believe the feeling that comes with it - his heart is going to explode.

Oh, no…

----

The Hufflepuff table is boring compared to the Gryffindor table. That’s the first thing Fred notices.

Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t with him. Maybe it’s because George flat-out refused to accompany him. Maybe it’s because Fred is nervous, and he’s angry about it, because since when has Fred Weasley ever been nervous about anything?

This morning, however, he is pushed on by the memory of your lips against his cheek. That is his only source of motivation, the only reason he doesn’t flick Ernie MacMillan on the back of the head when the Hufflepuff boy turns and scowls at the Gryffindor student currently making his way towards you, sat at the very end.

You have yet to look up from your textbook. Fred takes great pleasure in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your body jumping back against his in your shock. He leans down and chuckles in your ear, moving his head so you can see his clearly amused features.

Immediately your eyes widen. “Fred! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come have breakfast with you.” He waves his wand; a sausage springs up from Ernie’s plate, which he catches before biting into. “Like a date.”

You bite your lip. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh, Y/N?” Ernie calls over as Fred takes the empty seat next to you; he doesn’t miss the way you barely look up when you hum in response to Ernie’s - quite frankly - rude call of your name. “You know the houses have to eat together. He’s breaking the rules.”

You shyly look up. “Oh, Ernie, let him sit down…”

“Yeah Ernie,” Fred jeers. “Let me sit down, you nosy little git.”

You choke on the pumpkin juice you just lifted to your mouth, spinning in your seat to hide the amused smile growing uncontrollably upon your face. Fred grins, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Did you like that?”

“You’re impossible,” you hiss, slapping his arm. “Just ignore him. He’s got a grudge against anyone who plays for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, I know.” Fred narrows his eyes, craning his neck a little to see over your shoulder, where Ernie sits with a scowl on his face. “He better not give you a hard time for hanging out with me, you know. You’d tell me if he was?”

You shift so you’re covering Ernie’s face and are now the centre of Fred’s attention. “Of course I would. Plus, Ernie doesn’t scare me.”

“I’ll certainly scare him if he so much as-”

“Fred,” you laugh, nudging his knee beneath the table. His eyes drift back to you, his body immediately relaxing at the sight of your glowing smile. “Calm down, okay? He’s got nothing against me - it’s you and the Gryffindor team he’s got a problem with.”

“Is that supposed to make me hate him any less?”

You shrug, plucking Fred’s hands from your shoulders and placing a hash brown between his fingertips. “He’s got a point, you know. You are breaking the rules by sitting here.”

Fred raises a brow. “Right, I’ll leave if you-”

“No!” You latch onto his arm, pulling him back to the bench as Fred bursts into yet another round of raucous laughter at how easily flustered you become. “No, you should stay. Dumbledore isn’t even looking.”

“If I was any less wise, L/N, I’d think you want me to have breakfast with you.”

“I just don’t get to see that much of you,” you mumble.

Fred coos; he’s trying so hard to keep up the fun-guy persona, putting on a mask of confidence despite the speed at which his heart is hammering in his chest at the moment. You make it so easy for him to feel this way, too easy, because sure, Fred has had crushes on people before, but never has he put himself out like this. Never has he wanted to make someone laugh so much. Never has he been so proud of being the reason for someone else’s smile.

Fred leans forward, lowering his voice. “That’s very cute.”

“Yeah, well…”

He chuckles, flicking your heated cheek before he takes a bite from the slice of toast you’re holding. You jolt upright immediately, swatting him away with a glare. “Hey!”

He licks the butter noisily from his fingers. “Yummy.”

You roll your eyes. “Get your own breakfast.”

�� “But yours is so much tastier.”

You grab another slice of toast from your plate and push it against Fred’s lips. He opens his mouth, takes a bite and hums appreciatively.

And then the world stops.

It really is like those scenes in those cheesy movies his mum watches all the time, where the room seems to go still and it’s like nobody else exists. Your fingers hover inches away from his face, your eyes cast to his lips where the slice of toast has just disappeared. Fred swallows, his own eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted, so soft looking-

“Weasley! What do you think you’re doing sitting at the Hufflepuff table! Get back to where you belong right this instant!”

McGonagall grabs a fistful of his robes, pulling him up from the bench. Fred gasps, stumbling up with his eyes still locked on you. You hastily look back down at the table, pushing hair out of your eyes, trying to avoid being told off by the Deputy Head.

“Awk, lay off, Professor!” Fred exclaims. “I was having fun!”

“You were breaking the rules, Mr Weasley. You can integrate with your pals whenever breakfast has finished, but until then-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred grumbles, giving you one last glance. It’s to his utter relief that he sees you looking back at him, a tiny smile on your face. Fred winks before McGonagall shoves him forward, back into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

----

When Fred receives your note, he is sat in the Gryffindor common room with George.

Homework litters the table in front of them, unfinished and not understood by either of them. Hermione had long since gone to bed, insisting she wasn’t going to help people who didn’t want to help themselves. And so, the twins sat up until the late hours of the night, staring at their homework with a sense of frustration building between them.

Fred feels certain he’s going to snap at any given moment; this whole school thing really isn’t working out for him nor George, and the two of them have such prestigious dreams that sitting in a classroom all day just feels like a waste of time. Maybe that’s why he can’t bring himself to properly concentrate on his lessons. Maybe that’s why neither he nor George care as much about grades as all his other siblings.

“Right, so clearly Flitwick was on something when he wrote this,” says George, scowling at his charms homework. “He didn’t even mention flying charms last lesson, so why has he-”

The fireplace suddenly erupts.

Both Fred and George jump at the sudden interruption, swivelling round in their chairs to catch a glimpse of what has happened; they both know full well the kinds of things these fireplaces can permit, and neither of them want to deal with anything too dangerous at this time of night.

In the fire, however, is not the face of a Death Eater, or anything close to such - instead, a single piece of paper sits in the ashes, Fred’s name printed in bold across the top.

The twins frown at each other. George makes a suggestive gesture, all but shoving Fred closer for inspection.

Fred stumbles, sends George a glare before he bends down and picks the piece of paper up. Immediately the handwriting is recognisable by the lazy flick of the letters, how effortlessly neat it looks. It would take Fred hours to write a note that looks like this, and yet he’s watched you scribbling notes down; this is undoubtedly your doing.

Suddenly he’s smiling.

“Oh, here we go,” George groans, noticing his twins expression. “You’re sending love notes to each other now?”

“Shut up.” Fred sinks down into one of the armchairs, reading your note thoroughly. “Y/N wants to meet up.”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

George raises a brow. “Have you two even kissed yet?”

Fred’s eyes snap up, cheeks heating before he can stop them. He never ever gets flustered around George, but the mention of such a thing has his stomach flipping. “Why do you care?”

George raises his hands in mock surrender. “Never said I did, mate, but the smile on your face right now would suggest at least a peck on the cheek or something.”

Fred scowls. “No, we haven’t kissed. We’re not even properly together, so drop it.”

“How does that make sense? You both fancy each other-”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing official.” Fred lazily flicks his hand, clicking his fingers so the note folds itself into a perfect square and zips into his robe pocket. “You wouldn’t understand these things, Georgie Boy. You’ve got to take it slow.”

Goerge scoffs, throwing a pencil at Fred. “Very bloody slow apparently. But I forgot, it’s a Hufflepuff you’ve got your eye on. They tend to be a bit hard-to-get, don’t they?”

Fred opens his mouth to protest, to stick up for you, but he can’t even deny the truth in George’s words; a fair amount of time has passed since the two of you first started talking, and all you’ve done is say you enjoy his company. There’s been no kissing, no hand-holding, nothing even close to being considered romantic.

Fred is okay with this, of course. He’s in that very weird head space where even just being in your presence is enough to satisfy him; he catches glimpses of you as you parade from one class to another, and that is enough until he sees you again at lunch, or dinner, or during breaks.

He sighs, pushing himself up from the armchair. “Don’t wanna leave them waiting, do I?”

George scowls. “What about our homework?”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not covering for you if Flitwick asks what you were up to that’s more important than his homework assignments.”

Fred grins, not even giving a response as he clambers out of the common room and ducks into the hallways.

He knows exactly where to go, even though he’s never met up with you after hours before - not since the first time, which he doesn’t even count considering it was entirely an accident. To this day, he still isn’t convinced that wasn’t some type of dream - a Hufflepuff, out of bed after hours? Not a single soul would believe him if he told them.

Fred makes his way down the corridor and grins when he sees you standing there; you’re much braver than him. Fred, personally, feels much safer when he’s wading through the halls - it makes it more difficult for Filch to catch him if he’s not stationary. You, however, seem to have no issue with standing behind a suit of armour, waiting patiently for Fred to round the corner.

“Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

You look round, face immediately lighting up. “Fred! Hi!”

He’ll never get used to that greeting.

“Y/N! Hi!” he mimics. “I got your note.”

“Good. Great. I was worried I did it wrong.”

“You? Do something wrong?” Fred screws his face up in an expression of mock confusion, which prompts you to roll your eyes and nudge him. He grins, stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Out after curfew again, eh? Have I finally corrupted you?”

“You must have,” you reply.

Fred tilts his head. “What’s the actual reason you invited me out?”

And that’s when your expression shifts.

You bite your lower lip in that way you always do, eyes darting to the ground awkwardly. Fred raises a brow, leaning forward a bit in his attempt to get you to look at him again, but you suddenly seem much too embarrassed to even be giving Fred the time of day. His stomach flips with uncharacteristic anxiety, and he can’t stop himself when he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your elbow.

“Hey. Did something happen?”

The words burst out of you in one breath. “I left my book in the bathing room and I’m too scared to get it myself but I really need it to help me sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me get through the hallways without Filch knowing and then I promise you can go back to bed and never speak to me again.”

You take a sharp breath before looking away again, apparently too embarrassed by your request to even look at him.

Fred takes a moment to reply. He has to untangle your words first, and then he has to bask in his amusement at how embarrassed you were by asking it; personally, he doesn’t see the problem. He’s happy to help. In fact, he’d be pretty annoyed if it wasn’t him you were asking.

“Alright.”

Your eyes snap up. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought - well, you know your way around, and you’ve dealt with Filch-”

“You don’t need to explain.” He offers his arm, just as he always does. “What book is it?”

And it’s with only the tiniest bit of hesitance that you take his offered arm and allow him to guide you through the corridors he apparently knows so well; in truth, he doesn’t tend to go out after curfew all that often, because he gets all of his mischief done in the day time now. But you were indeed correct in saying he knows this place better than anyone else. He and George spent the majority of their school careers finding secret passageways and little hiding spots they could use at any given time. As he listens to you talk about the book he’s about to try and save, he recalls each and every one of these hiding places whilst keeping a sharp ear out for Filch.

The two of you arrive at the bathing rooms and Fred pushes open the door. It squeaks, and you wince, glancing at Fred anxiously; he merely places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into the room.

He follows, closes the door and exhales heavily. “Made it. Now where’s that book you’ve lost?”

You skitter around the edge of the massive bathing pool; it’s still filled to the brim with forever hot water, always clean despite the amount of people washing themselves within it on a daily basis. Fred stands on the edge, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you rush to the far side of the room, rummage around in a basket of towels before pulling a particularly thick book out from beneath them.

You look over, smiling broadly with the book pressed against your chest.

Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

“Overjoyed.”

You skip back over to him, pulling open the front cover to look inside. Fred leans forward, reading the confusing inside blurb over your shoulder.

“And you use this for a bit of light reading in the bath?” he asks.

Startled, you slam the book closed. “It’s good, honestly.”

“I’ll take your-”

Fred’s sentence is cut off by the sound of Filch yelling.

And it’s unmistakably Filch yelling, because Fred has heard it many, many times before. It always comes with that initial rush of panic, the realisation he’s been caught, and if he was with anybody else, that initial panic wouldn’t have even lasted. Now, however, he takes one look at your slack face, the horror swimming in your eyes, and he realises this is the first time you’ll have ever gotten in trouble with the caretaker.

A traumatic experience for anyone.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, dropping the book with a SLAM. You jump, scrambling to pick it up, but the noise only seems to draw Filch closer to the door. Fred has to think now.

He groans low under his breath, fumbling beneath his robes for his wand - a wand that has been left on the table back in the Gryffindor common room.

You jolt back up straight, hugging the book to your chest, and that’s when Fred does the one thing he can think to do right now - he grabs your arms and pushes you back, jumping into the deep end of the bath with you alongside him.

He holds you close, opening his eyes as much as he possibly can. He can hear Filch’s yelling from above, aggravated screams of “I know you’re in here! I know you’re in here! I heard you!” Fred simply pulls you closer, urging you to hold your breath for as long as possible.

But he can see you panicking, the air leaving you. He can see your lips threatening to split open so you can scream or cry or breathe, Fred doesn’t know, but he can’t let you do it. Not right now.

Without magic, there’s only one thing he can think to do.

He presses his lips to your own and pries your mouth open. He doesn’t know how this works. He read about it once in a Muggle Studies book, but he never thought he would ever actually need to pay attention to the details. He takes your relaxing body as a good sign, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he continues to breathe as much air into your mouth as he can possibly muster.

And then the door is slamming, and Filch’s screams are muted behind the gold plating, and Fred immediately lets go of you and bursts to the surface.

You follow, gasping for air, wiping water out of your eyes along with fat strands of wet hair. Fred pants, wiping his eyes roughly, trying so hard to find words for an apology but unable to gather enough breath to even think proper thoughts at the moment.

His heartbeat soars. He looks over at you; you’re already looking at him, and the entire room is silent besides your synchronised panting breaths.

You shove past the water, into his arms, and kiss him.

Fred’s eyes pop open wide, but his arms wind around your waist almost instinctively. His lips mould against yours, and once the initial shock has passed, his eyes are slipping closed and he’s falling, falling, drowning, never wanting to resurface ever again.

You pull away first. Water drips from your bottom lip, your eyelashes, your chin, and Fred has never seen a sight so beautiful. He reaches forward, swiping his thumb along your lower lip before he leans forward and gives you a final peck.

“Always full of surprises, you are,” he whispers.

----

Fred watches you. Leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, he watches as you run the towel down your face, grumbling beneath your breath about how impossible it will be to explain your soaked robes to Professor Sprout.

Fred hasn’t even stopped to properly think about how the two of you are meant to get back to your respective common rooms without someone noticing; you’ll surely leave a trail of water in your wake, and Filch is already on high alert. Despite this, Fred can only focus on the kiss the two of you have just shared, and what it means for the future.

You sigh, slamming the towel down and turning. There’s an adorable pout on your face, eyebrows furrowed, hair still soaked and clinging to your skin.

“That really was a shock,” you say.

Fred chuckles. “Just the bit where we took a swim?”

“And the bit where you saved me from drowning.”

“And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”

You groan, waving your hands in front of you as if swatting a fly. “Awk, don’t. I never do anything like that. I probably did it all wrong-”

“You didn’t.”

“Kissing is just something I never got the hang of. I’ve only done it a few times, because I don’t really tend to like people that way, but-”

“But I’m a special case?”

You scowl, deflating. “You know you are.”

Fred grins that cheeky grin of his, pushing away from the door. He wades towards you and stops only when he’s close enough that you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. “I think you got the hang of kissing perfectly fine. You’re a bloody natural.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” With that, Fred leans down and presses his lips to your own. It’s only slow, slow enough that Fred can feel you melt into him, your rib cage suddenly coming against his own, your fingertips brushing delicately against his waist. It’s adorable, feeling you lose yourself like this, barely registering what is actually happening.

He pulls away just as slow, so you can feel everything when he does so. Your eyes stay closed for a second before opening, lower lip retreating between your teeth, face hot when Fred brings his hands up to your jaw.

“Does - Okay, well, stupid question, but does this make us a couple?” you ask.

Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

“Do you -”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t even ask that; you know full well I want to be your boyfriend. Full. Well.”

A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing your chin in the centre of his chest. “Yeah.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins fic

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the-travelling-witch · 2 years

Note

Holly babe guess who~~ I’m SO SOOOO proud of u for hitting 500, u deserve it and so much more! <333 I’d like- LOVE to join ur event sweetheart hehe

So hi! My name is crown, pronouns are she/her and I’d like a romantic matchup w a guy from Tokyo revengers please

About me hmmmm well

- Im pretty headstrong and confident in who I am, so I try my best to be welcoming and kind to people but at the same time I’m well aware that I can be intimidating, I like that to some degree

- I’m an artist! I love painting drawing and dancing (singing too but I’m not good at- don’t mean I don’t scream at the top of my lungs tho)

- I’m the eldest child and older sister to my sis, I’ve often been told I give off fun vibes but know to get serious when the moment demands it

- I’m hilarious. Like downright hilarious.

- Also very sarcastic (like to the point where I’ve gotten in trouble by the principle whoops)

- Either dress like a princess w jewelry dresses and heels or like a hood rat

Mmmmmm u know me to some degree right doll? Take ur guess at my personality from that too <3

Also Russian roulette number…drum roll plz: 7!

hmmm, who could it be? is it...the loml? (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

ahhh, darling, thank you so much!!! i´m also so proud of you, you just reached your own milestone too (i still think it´s absolutely hilarious we had the same idea haha) ♡

i really hope you enjoy your matchup; to shock everyone i matched you with...

RAN HAITANI Bonten Executive

Sighing for the tenth time in the last ten minutes, you looked down at your phone and then around the streets again. You were supposed to meet your friend but Roppongi wasn´t that easy to navigate if you´ve never been there before. And google maps sure wasn´t helping, sending you in circles for half an hour.

As you continued walking, you didn´t look where you were going, focused on the map on your phone. So focused, in fact, you didn´t notice the person coming your way. Colliding with a strong chest, you would´ve hit the ground for sure if it wasn´t for the hands holding you steady by your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I´m so sorry, I didn´t see you there. Are you okay?” Raising your head, your eyes met two lilac ones, crinkling at the corners.

“I noticed. Well, I´m not the one who almost introduced themselves to the floor, so I´m fine.” Glancing down at your phone, the man noticed the open app. “You´re not from around here, are you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yup. What are you searching for anyway?” Turning your phone his way, he studied the map for a second before standing straight again. “The café is just two streets down here and then on the right. Free advice for the cute lady: you should really try their pastries.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Before you could thank him, he held your phone in place again, typing away on your screen. “Let me show you around Roppongi some time. Make sure you call me, yeah?”

He shot you a wink and then continued in the direction he was headed in, leaving you to stare down at the contact info displayed on your phone.

“Your knight in shining armour ♡”

Ran thinks he finally found his match in you

He himself is pretty self-assured and confident in who he is, otherwise he wouldn´t have gotten to where he is now

One of the things he appreciates about you is that he can enjoy some playful banter with you without having to walk on eggshells around you

And if you retaliate with a snarky comment of your own, there are practically hearts floating around his head

Especially revels in judging people with you; whenever someone you don´t like does something stupid, he shoots you that look (you know the one)

Absolute power couple, we stan

When you´re going to one of his fancy events, both dressed to the nines, nobody can tear their eyes away

You guys are already stunning on your own, but together? Everybody either wants to be you or be with you

On the flip side, lounging around in hoodies and pjamas, throwing board pieces at each other or annoying Rindou to insanity is also a common occurrence

Ran would be so cocky if you sketch him (“You just can´t get enough of my beauty, right doll?”) but will definitely throw a whiney tantrum if you dare draw someone else

Would poke fun at you if he caught you dancing around the house but will pull you close to join you afterwards

Slow-dancing at night, just the two of you? Is there anything better? (He would definitely dip you a tad too low just to hear you squeal and feel you cling to him tighter)

But he´s the only one who gets to laugh at you, if anyone else even so much as thinks about making fun of you…uhh, well, good luck…

He may not admit it out loud all that often but Ran thanks his lucky stars that you waltzed into his life

Okay, choosing Ran felt like a cop-out, so I hope you also enjoy being matched with...

KEN RYUGUJI Tokyo Manji Gang Vice-President

It was pouring as you exited your college building and you mentally scolded yourself for deciding to not bring an umbrella that day. Cursing to yourself, you already resigned yourself to coming home absolutely drenched.

“Forgot your umbrella?” The deep voice belonged to a tall man, wearing a leather attire and sporting a half-shaved head. Under different circumstances he might have appeared intimidating but you found yourself nodding at his question anyway, his calm tone anything but threating. “Where are you headed?”

“Just the station a few streets from here.”

“I´m going in the same direction, wanna share?” He held up his umbrella and after a few moments of contemplation, you agreed.

During your walk to the station, you found out that is name was Ken Ryuguji and that he owned a motorshop in Tokyo. In fact, he was at your college to deliver a bike to a student there. Despite only just meeting him, you enjoyed talking to him and you found yourself wishing your stop was a few streets farther away still.

“Thank you so much, Ken, you really saved me there. Is there anyway I can pay you back?”

“Hmm, you could let me take you out for coffee someday. How does Friday work for you?”

First things first, Draken is the ultimate gentleman and you can´t convince me otherwise (yes, he held the umbrella for you)

He always places your comfort first and he always makes sure you´re doing okay

Very mature and grounded, Draken is the one person you can rely on no matter what and you can come to him with whatever, it´s guaranteed you´ll leave feeling indefinitely better

It´s a fact that this man is great at giving massages, so if you´re ever feeling stressed or have been sitting for a long time, he´ll offer to work his magic

In return, he enjoys relaxing with you and just letting go for a while

Honoured whenever you draw him and adds it to his wall along with just about every picture you guys take together, whether it´s silly, cute or romantic doesn´t matter, it gets added to the collection, no questions asked

Draken will help you with doing your hair if you want him to, paying close attention to how you do it when you show him

He also let´s you braid his hair, enjoying the way you run your fingers through his hair while he just lays back (has fallen asleep before while you did it)

So supportive!! Dress however you want he can fight he will genuinely compliment you on whatever you chose to wear that day

Loves when you visit him in the shop; you don´t even have to do anything, just having you there lifts his spirits

Your relationship is just so soft and warm and cosy, it´s like curling up in a warm blanket during winter

The support, care and trust you both place in each other is unmatched; people will see you and redefine their opinion on “couple goals”

The question you chose is “Do you have earrings/ piercings/ tattoos/ dyed hair/ other body modifications?”

I still have my natural hair colour and I don´t have any tattoos because my parents would disown me if I did (I once “tattooed” my whole forearm out of boredom and they nearly flipped) but I do have my ears pierced

On my right ear I have one lobe and two helix piercings and on my left ear I have three lobe piercings and one helix but the [redacted] tension between me and a potential conch is almost tangible haha

#holly’s potions #coffee & tea break #my regulars ♡#letter from: the gorgeous crown ❀#Stella Fortuna Event #First Constellation #matchup #tokyo revengers

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot: Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

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~*~*~ = time skip

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again. He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places. It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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windblooms · 3 years

Text

zhongli scenario – psycho pass au

inspector!zhongli × gender-neutral reader; 3.3k words, angst & dark content (violence). a document of zhongli’s involvement in sibyl as he becomes an enforcer. swearing, violence, heresy, trauma development – it’s psycho pass, a seinen series. please proceed carefully.

a bright individual in academics and well-respected in his social circle, zhongli was practically guaranteed a fulfilling life by the sibyl system.

his peers often looked up to him as a senior: not only did he study diligently and looked forward to integrating himself into society, but he took it upon himself to be an emotional resource for others.

others often described him as a warm balance between equitability and empathy. the word “pragmatic” derived its definition from him, or so was the joke that his friends tossed around.

“ah, you want to sweeten me up, don’t you?” his laugh can pacify even the most irate of hounds – a siren for the “frenzied”, but of course dulled down, just as all passionate emotions are suppressed in this society.

but, oh, sibyl. what will you do to this man?

while zhongli directly benefits from the system – good-natured, charming, and from an established family – it’s only by the system’s choice. self-autonomy is an illusion when it’s dictated by a hand that only has five fingers and one palm.

they all lead to the same end.

zhongli deludes himself with a restless brain. night after night leading up to his sibyl exam, he busies himself with the news (or at least what’s left of it) and sibyl system statistics instead of studying. japan is peaceful. he likes it here, and there’s a life waiting for him. people anticipate his choices. he can’t let them down, yet he also can’t help but wonder . . .

division one welcomes him with open arms. with a crime coefficient of 36.7 and a pretty hue painted like cream vanilla, he is, in nearly every single aspect, a prime candidate for an inspector.

“mister zhongli, are you still working at this hour?”

you speak as if you’re not doing the exact same thing, lurking around the office far from when the lights have been shut off. but your sincerity is reassuring, and as you hand him a glass of water at his station, he can’t help but smile.

“just some extra work childe left. i decided to take over for him so he could sleep early.”

“ah.” hovering around his desk, you shift your weight from one foot to the other like a ship rocked by the waves. out of the corners of his eyes, zhongli sees you lean your body against his cubicle. “and you’re sure you’re not making things too easy for him?”

“probably not.”

a muted chuckle from your lips; your shoulders don’t hold the tension they do during the work day. “hopefully he remembers that you’re giving him extra sleep. let me know if there’s anything i can do for you.”

“much appreciated,” the inspector replies without a beat in between, irises flickering momentarily back to his screen. childe had actually finished most of his work; all that was left was filing and labels. simple stuff, really. childe could easily complete it in less than 20 minutes in the morning, although zhongli can’t bring himself to admit to you that he’s actively concerned with the beastly enforcer.

“actually, would you allow me to walk with you back to your apartment? if you’re heading out for the night.”

there’s something in your eyes he can’t quite place the moment his proposition reaches your ears. you’re set alight by his words, a switch flipped on and a charge igniting your cheeks an enchanting shade of coral – but it doesn’t consume your eyes. had his proposal been too sudden? you’re not exactly the closest of coworkers – perhaps he had wrongly assumed that you would be open to spending more time with him, even if just for a walk – and his paperwork is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles to compose an apology for his frankness.

he probably just should’ve focused on finishing childe’s work instead of giving you mixed signals.

“ – i promise, i thought you were preoccupied. i’d love to be in your company, but i’m not sure how long your filing will take.”

zhongli finds that he can make it 10 minutes instead of 20.

it’s snowing outside; the streets are dark, save for the explosion of lights above in apartment buildings, and the only sounds in the night are of cars revving in the distance. the chill is hardly noticeable underneath the layers of coats you two wear, and he only recalls that it’s winter when he gazes at his boots crunching in the snow, or when he faces you and puffs of warm breath flow from your lips.

admittedly, he’s not even sure where you live – so he walks alongside you as your companion.

“beidou got moved to another division, and miss ningguang didn’t disclose why.” you bite your lip, although zhongli barely catches your ministrations in the dark lighting. only occasional overhead street lamps illuminate your path, but you steadily walk forwards as if you don’t need it in the first place.

“i know it’s not my place to question. i just think that beidou was doing well – it’s odd not seeing her around.”

“i believe there was an announcement earlier last week discussing structural changes in the crime investigation department. beidou will be fine in divison three.” zhongli’s reassurances are quiet in the ambiance, a pacifying lull of flowing water to a clear river. your feet guide you to a left turn. “i can pass a word to one of my colleagues in division three if you don’t have the time to visit.”

“oh? i wasn’t aware that you were one for many connections, mister zhongli,” your voice teases his senses, much like your words poke at his penchant for introversion – but of course, negotiation when necessary. “but you don’t have to go out of your way for me. i’ll shift around my schedule for her. you have your own enforcer to take care of, right?”

“that i do. if it’s acceptable for me to say,” zhongli starts, briefly wondering if his subordinate will pardon the mentions of his name in unofficial business, “childe reminds me of my niece sometimes. always looking for a distraction, for something engaging . . . which often isn’t the best thing to do at the time.”

his fingers drift to the pockets of his coat, smoothing down the fabric inside as you continue. "why don’t you bring her in for work one day? i’m sure you could arrange something with miss ningguang . . . especially since you’re on her good side.”

you don’t mention his standing with her out of malice, or with any hint of resentment in your voice. your observation is matter-of-fact: it’s true, it’s tangible in how ningguang maintains eye contact with zhongli out of everyone else in division briefings, even when disbanding them; how, even just among division officers, her eyes are solely on him.

and of course you’d know this: everyone in the crime investigation bureau has heard about it from the analysts that mow over the security cameras in their spare time.

he exhales into the chilled air, one of admission with a lilt of humility. the corners of his lips are etched unusually high onto his cheeks. “ningguang prefers her workspace neat. i guarantee that if i brought along my niece, she’d tear the place apart. she might even give childe a hard time.”

“i take it that you’ve seen it first-hand?”

“well, yes. not that i’d ever mention her behavior to just anyone.” it’s his turn to chuckle at the thought, although it’s tinged with a hint of . . . dismay. “but she’s smart. i doubt you’ll be hearing of her tirades as she learns more about the system.”

your understanding is communicated through silence, yet it’s not unpleasant. it’s heeding and respectful to his insinuations. he’s aware that no one discloses much of their personal life – since at the bureau, there’s hardly any time for sentiment – and even much less the inner workings of sibyl. among some inspectors, it’s a mutual feeling; a slight nag, but it’s also the truth.

some just prefer avoiding it entirely, and on occasion, it’s also reciprocated.

“mister zho – ”

his wrist-watch screeches in his ear before you can finish uttering his name. sibyl’s voice is entirely unwelcome on a quiet night such as this, with her magnetic, crisp timbre, and by the parting of your lips, zhongli knows you’re receiving the exact same message he is. snow no longer conceals the pavement, but instead, numbers and letters. images, even, of murky colors with three-dimensional graphs and timelines.

“area stress level abnormal,” sibyl reports in his mind. “enforcement action requested.”

there is nothing in his hands – there is no dominator to work with, only maps and crime coefficients strung together in zhongli’s head. but you’re already fumbling for your phone, voice rushing to contact the bureau in the midst of the impromptu warning. “shepherds to hounds, any available? asking for immediate assitan – ”

for the second time in a moment, the sounds emitting from your mouth are overtaken by something else: shouting. zhongli pulls you between two stores as you furiously usher commands to headquarters in the dead of night. surely an analyst would at least pick up your call, if not another working inspector.

“suspect is in his late twenties. crime coefficient . . . of 152.7. do we have any methods of subduction without dominators while we wait for a proper team?”

“no – unless you prefer hand-to-hand incapacitation, or the small stunner.” he doesn’t have to look at your face to know that you’re grimacing, diligently combing over the information you’re given by sibyl. “it’s just one man. he’s been running around for the past ten minutes, and if someone can pick up, it’s a 15 minute drive from the bureau. he’s only latent. we can just negotiate with him.”

your gaze catches his out of the corner of his eyes. it’s dangerous for inspectors to directly involve themselves without dominators, especially without the intervention of enforcers as a preventative measure to not cloud their own crime coefficients. you’re both vetted in combat as per inspector training, but without dominators as a barrier between barbarism and lawful jurisdiction, not even inspectors are exempt from sibyl’s eyes.

“ – was marked by scanners three blocks down. approach one at a time?”

zhongli nods without hesitation, opening his watch to change into his inspector attire as you do likewise.

“meet you there.”

you’re off first, your figure disappearing into the falling snow as the bureau logo on the back of your jacket flutters back at him. he resumes the call that you left on, ears straining to pick up any sounds at all – from both his communicator and his surroundings. a minute passes before he himself is off into the streets, running further into the murky blue of the circumference painted before him in his irises.

out of all the corners he turns, all are empty, save for the occasional scanner. he matches the data on the drones to the information that’s presented on his watch – except that the radius the two of you split up to search in is smaller than before, more specific. also, noticeably more inclined to the streets you ran into; the suspect must have been picked up by more overhead scanners.

zhongli practically shoves his watch next to his lips, voice hissing into the mic. “y/n, are you there?”

a pause, and static silence.

and you pick up. “yeah, yeah, i’m here. got the new info. think i’m closing in – i hear someone panting. i’ll send you my position, and then i’ll approach and try to talk.”

“all right. eta in three minutes. be careful.”

you don’t reply, only sending him off with an emote through the pop-up display.

he runs as swiftly as he possibly can in two inches of snow the drag from his coat is also inconvenient, so he zips it up before resuming his trek. another notification message also pops up from the bureau, and he’s reassured professional enforcements. all he needs to do now is meet up with you.

vaguely, he begins to make out the sound of two voices to his right, one of them distinctly belonging to you: even in tone, yet strained with cracks. a momentary thought crosses him: why are your voices raised? the negotiation must have –

“’ts a sick system!”

“sir, please, i can’t help you unless you try and remain calm.”

“just one time. one fucking time – ” the presumed suspect’s voice rises louder, harsher, overruling your own. zhongli picks up his pace. “you lot can just walk around with your perfect academy scores. so many options. but one bad break for us – the regular ones – and we can be disposed of. there will be a movement, mark my words. this system is fucked, and so are all of you – ”

something – and the worst part is, zhongli doesn’t know what – audibly snaps, and he hears you scream.

he blows in the scene in time to see you, crumpled at the knees and grappling with the suspect, raising a limp wrist to his neck in a vain attempt to get the stunner off. but the suspect knows what you’re trying to do – cruelly enables you even, by jerking you by the elbow towards his jugular – as you wheeze, palm against his shoulder in order to push away.

“what’s the matter, huh? academy didn’t teach you how to fight like in the pits, inspector.”

zhongli charges in before thinking. he only sees you, hair mangled and clothes torn at the cuffs, and the deranged target before him before all three of you collide together.

the snow does nothing to soften your fall, and after he tumbles to the floor with the suspect, zhongli regrets that he had to resort to such brute measures to get you out of danger; the suspect is much larger than you, and even him with his lithe frame, so it takes all of his strength to keep him pinned down onto the concrete, the snow filtering into the hood of his jacket. and much like you moments prior, zhongli is wrestling to get the stunner off.

it’s as if he knows – the target knows about their methods, and keeps the face of the watch away from his skin, inhumanly twisting zhongli’s wrist away. there’s a damaged light in his brown eyes, and zhongli can hear the grating of the man’s teeth as they go back and forth on the ground.

“eta!?” the inspector nearly bites his tongue as he barks out the question, knee working to hold down the target’s thigh.

“a minute and a half!”

your trembling, staggered steps come up to his side in crunches. perspiration nearly drips into his eyes despite the frigid air. it’s so hot, even burning, and he realizes that the sensation isn’t bound to his chest as the suspect continues ranting about sibyl.

“you don’t even question it! neither of you have brains of your own. but we can live! and without your dogshit ‘justice’!”

your wrist is lifeless, but your watch shines on it as if nothing’s wrong. the pain on your face extends to your forearm, where he can see forming bruises through the tears in the fabric; with bitten, bloody lips, you lower your wrist to the target’s neck as zhongli subdues him as best he can –

– thrashing like a red herring in a net.

“bitches to the system.”

the target launches zhongli up and over his body, nearly tossing him to the side as if he were a hefty log, before making another start to you. senses dulled by the pain oozing through your form, zhongli witnesses as your body crashes to the ground once more.

you kick and claw at the man on top of you with what you have left, but he doesn’t relent, crushing your form under his body weight as you once again struggle to stun him.

“you’re all going to kneel soon enough.”

zhongli’s knuckles collide with the target’s cheek, just before your neck is encased by grimy, frostbitten fingers. for the second time, he crashes to the ground with the subject, but this time he doesn’t hesitate to conduct necessary action.

“mister zhongli! that’s enough, mister zhongli . . . ”

what jolts him from his frenzy isn’t you, but rather the sirens that gradually envelop the alleyway in blue and red.

beneath him, the target is unconscious. welts simmer onto his flesh with indents of zhongli’s knuckles, gnarly and ugly, just like the disrupted snow in disarray on the pavement. his nose is bloodied, and just like your wrist, jerked at an unnatural angle. the breaths in zhongli’s chest are haggard, like a beast awoken from slumber, in contrast to the target’s muffled inhales.

and his fingers – they’re painted scarlet as well, just like the ink on the target’s face.

“wow. i never thought you’d make it past 70. but this thing . . . ” you’re no where to be seen, probably dragged off by the medics; metal clacks against a hand behind him. “sorry, but all i’m seeing is 119.”

you’re light-headed once you’re settled into the back of the van. your inspector jacket (or what’s left of it) is suffocating enough that you request for it to be cut off completely, since you can’t shuffle it off with a broken wrist. the small back-up team of childe and keqing are fussing around the scene, keqing in particular instructing the retrieval of your heretic of a target.

zhongli, on the other hand . . .

both hands subdued behind his back, drones escort him off the premise. he doesn’t have his inspector coat on, and instead, childe approaches you with it in hand. the white symbol of the merged caduceus and judicial scales is untainted by the dirtied snow it was subject to.

the enforcer’s voice is light, pretty much normal, despite the dire circumstances as he sits adjacent to you, legs hanging off the back of the van. “you look like you could use a hot shower.”

you don’t humor him – frankly, you don’t have the energy to. you were practically powerless, inept at fulfilling one simple task. you think that, if you had been more forceful, zhongli wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in. keqing wouldn’t listen to you, and maybe you were imaging sympathy in her amethyst irises when you tried – god, you tried – to defend your coworker.

it’s not fair.

childe tsks, although it’s not out of irritation but more so impatience. always one for instant gratification, but you’re so desperate to find some ounce of emotion at the sight of his partner being treated so poorly that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

after a minute of silence is when he admits to your sniffling. although he doesn’t extend comforts, but leaves you to your own devices.

“if he wants to, he can rejoin as an enforcer. which isn’t the worst option out of the few he’s given.” the ginger leaps off the back of the van, and makes way for zhongli – but not before giving you some final words as you meet the topaz eyes of the former inspector.

“don’t blame your pretty head about it; he knew what he was getting into. and at least you can drop the honorifics and just call him zhongli now. he’s always told me how he wishes it was just that simple with his friends.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli headcanons #zhongli scenarios #psycho pass au #gender neutral reader #enforcer zhongli #inspector zhongli

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