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#it’s midnight and I’m about to pass out so apologies if this doesn’t make sense

ghostdrinkssoup · 10 months

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the thing that really gets me about mizumono is that will doesn’t even fight back. he saw alana mangled outside. he knows jack might be dead. he has a loaded gun in hand. but not once does he try to hurt hannibal. he doesn’t even shoot. will just lets him caress his cheek, fingers curling into his hair. there’s no resistance. when hannibal stabs him, will leans into it. he doesn’t want to escape. and it all hurts so badly because it’s not like will tricked hannibal into loving him; he simply persuaded him that he might love him back. because that’s what will thought hannibal did to him in s1, and only now does he realise that maybe it was more real for hannibal than he thought. or worse, that maybe he wants to be with hannibal regardless of whether hannibal genuinely loves him. that maybe it’s worth it to be close to him, even if his touch splits his stomach open

#it’s midnight and I’m about to pass out so apologies if this doesn’t make sense #but I’m thinking about it and ohhhhh my god #the way will looks at hannibal before he gets stabbed always kills me #like he couldn’t look away even if he tried #so vulnerable and full of love #and then hannibal plunges the knife into him I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE #mizumono is the dead sister who haunts the narrative #she haunts my every waking moment #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #hannigram #ghost speaks

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grapenamjams · 5 months

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Better Than A Dream

Genre: NSFW

Characters: Muriel from the arcane & Reader

Contains: soft mdom, mention of wet dream, oral m. Receiving, Dirty talk, cock warming,

A/n: welcome to grape’s annual Muriel smut one shot post. Will there be one next year? The world may never know!

You feel the bed shift more than once in the span of a few minutes stirring you awake. With half eyes open you notice the sliver of moonlight passing through the curtains. letting you know that it was a little pass midnight.

It was the sigh that made you fully turn towards a clearly vexed Muriel beside you, running a hand down his face. His exposed chest goes up and down in shaky breaths , his skin flushed. “Muriel?” he starts at the sound of your voice in the quite room. You apologies noticing his reaction. “Are you alright?” You ask softly. You don’t move closer even when you want to, not knowing if it’s okay to touch him, wanting to give him space.

He nodes but he dosnt look at you. “I’m sorry that I woke you. ” you shake your head, “it’s alright” You wish you could say that waking up to Muriel tossing and turning at night was rare but unfortunately this was the case ever so often. Memories of the past thought to be forgotten resurfacing, playing out in his dreams where he is supposed to be the safest. Causing him to stir like this, hold you closer to him or at times leaving the bed completely until you go find him when you feel his abesnace.

“Was it a nightmare again?” You watch his face as he sucks in a breath, eyes landing on one of the hanging crystals by the wall catching the moonlight. After a moment he shakes his head. You feel a slight relief, reaching a hand towards him rubbing his arm. He clears his throat “It was- it was nothing.” He turns to his side towards you but his eyes are still not meeting yours. “It’s late you should go back to sleep” you frown at his dismissal even though he can’t see it. Clearly something is bothering him.

“are you sure? you were tossing and turning for awhile” your fingers brush through his dark hair. Shifting closer to him, your hand continuing the motion hoping to relax him. Although you couldn’t have seen his throat bob and hear his heartbeat quicken.

“I’m sure.” He states. However when he takes in a breath, breathing in your familiar scent. words escape him in a groan like whisper. “Just a selfish dream”

You don’t miss the lowered words. “A selfish dream?” You questioned. Muriel only nodes his head after a moment,closing his eyes hoping for You to follow his lead into returning to sleep. but Your curiosity still Persists. “Was it good or bad?” Muriel’s hand reaches out to your waist, letting out a breath. You would have taken it a sign to stop after he was quiet for a moment but to your amusement he replied. “Good…really good” his thumb rubs your side.

Good? You think, confused Then why doesn’t he want to- his hand pulls you closer. Oh… all other thoughts fade at the feel of his body against yours.

You bite your lip suppressing a smile. “Muriel?” You say, hand pushing back hair that had fallen forward.

“Hm?” He breathes You again unknowingly where your brain has wondered too.

Sensing his reaction you lean away from his face. “Did you have a wet dream?” His eyes fly open and the blush is blooming on his face just as quickly. “What? N-no I…that’s…” his eyes go over your face. “why do you think that?” He stammers. you move your hips into him feeling him very presently against you.

You are unsure how he is able to get redder especially with the limited visibility that the moon provides. Muriel groans, rolling onto his back and places an arm over his eyes trying to cover himself wishing for the bed to swallow him into the covers.

You find it adorable and enjoyable that the man beside you, no matter how many times he takes you making each other feel all sorts of pleasures. Still gets easily flustered when it comes to talking about desires and intimacy. And because of that, you loved to tease him.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t know why-“ Muriel started to apologize for the predicament he put you in. But you cut him off before his brain runs off with an idea that is untrue.

“Tell me was it about me?” You say, resting your head on your hand being able to look down at him.

Muriel starts, taken aback at what you said as if he could not believe you would hold the idea that he would be able to think of another person that was not you. “What? Of course it was.. who else…” his eyes narrow and look away from you “you’re teasing me, arnt you?”

You let out a giggle “just a bit, I can’t help it.” He grumbles rolling his eyes at you. You give him a kiss feeling his flushed cheek. “What was I doing in your dream?” You continued. your own body warmed with the ideas forming in your head.

His eyes look back at you, taking in your face as if he thought he didn’t hear you right. “Y-you want to know?” You give him a playful smile and node. this was a first for Muriel and as much as you protected his comfortability you always liked nudging him out of his comfort zone. His Adam able bobs “uh…you…” his gaze shifts away from You again.

You hum, “was I kissing you? Like this” your lips run along his jaw and down the side of his neck. “Y-yes” he sighs. You shift your body placing a arm on the other side of his face. Giving you more access to his neck. Kissing the hollow of his neck “Say it” your words land on his skin. he lets out a breath. “You were kissing me…my neck- just like that” his voice hitches as you suck on his sweet spot. Again your lips go over his neck and throat until you pull away looking down at him waiting for his next words. “my mouth” his eyes open to meet yours above him. A shy smile tilts at his lips and you never want to forget the image of him smiling up at you like this.

his largehand cups your face guiding you towards him until your lips meet. Muriel breathes you in. his lips greeting yours gently as he always does making you feel loved and cared for. But as always there is a point where his kisses become deeper and hungrier. Moans escaping each other.

bodies pressed and slightly moving against each other. You’re breathless when you ask “what else?” The forest color of his eyes were just rimming the edges of his darkened eyes. A contrast to his flushed face. “my body” he lets out and you were not needed to be told twice. Your mouth already leaving lingering kisses on his chest. His breathes becoming quicker his voice breathy each time he instructs you to go lower and lower. Kissing each scar knowing where they are on him. Leaving marks on His toned stomach.

When you reach the band of his undergarments. His need was visibly pressed against the fabric and you felt your own need pulse through your body. You kissed his thigh and looked up at him. His gaze landed on yours and he nodded. You take his signal and remove the covering. He was painfully hard, precum already dripping down the vein. Muriel sucks in a breath finally being free of his constraints. Making your mouth water.

You rub his hip and kiss next to the base and ever so lightly pressing your lips up his cock. “What did I do next?” You ask teasingly looking up at him. Muriel’s hand surprisingly lands on the back of your head. His gaze looking at you between his legs having him suppress a moan at the sight but his dick twitches giving him away. Yet his voice comes out deep and clear, traces of his shyness gone. “you used that teasing mouth to suck me off” his words land on your ears before Muriel guides your mouth to take him.

He curses above you as you moan around his head,licking around it. sending shocks through him which makes his hips buck the last of him into your mouth. you hollow your cheeks as you let him move your head to a pace he wanted which was still mindful of you even in his pleasured state. As your own hand worked on the rest of him. “Yes, just like that” he groans.

You worked on him as best as you could as he moved you to his pleasure. Flattening your tongue having his clock glide in and out against. The your tongue rubbing that sensitive spot under the tip. All of this has his head digging deeper into the pillow and the grip on your hair tightening . “This is” he groans looking down at the sight before him. “much better than a dream” your eyes land on his and it makes his body tighten with more arousal then he thought he could have. The sight that you had also made you throb, a coat of sweat on his skin and his heaving chest caused you to moan wanting to see him come undone. he continues to follow his pleasure.

Yeses and praises falling from his mumbled lips. Just when you thought he was close to going over the edge, his hand stops and gently pulls you away from him. Giving him a sight of you as a drooling mess. Making The words “turn over on your hands and knees” not get out fast enough. His desire reaching that point where he needed to be inside of you, to feel all of you. Smiling you do as told not being able to form a reply because along with Muriel you just needed him inside you as fast as possible.

“A good listener” his deep voice sends a jolt down your spine as his large frame covers you. Earning him a moan “Muriel please, i need you” His lips kiss your exposed neck and shoulder while his hands remove your underwear. “I’m yours” he states wasting no time he starts pushing himself into you causing you both to moan at the sensation that never ceases to consume you both “all yours” he groans when he fully sinks into you. Giving you time to adjust to him, your walls stretch around the thickness of him. Your head lands on the mattress. Hips moving back with a whine, having Muriel take it as sign that he can began thrusting.

His movements begin slow till he almost pulls out fully and thrusts back in, wanting to feel the real you not his imagination, not how you feel in a dream. every inch, clench, throb and the warmth of you. One hand lands on your hip while the other one goes down your back keeping you with your head down. His pace picks up until you both are lost in pleasure and your sounds fill up the dark room. Every thrust sends jolts through you as he hits the spot that sends you closer to the edge each time.

After a moment your on your hands again and his chest is pressed against your back, covering you with his body. Your only thought his of him, everything about him consumes you as he keeps thrusting into you and pants next to your ear. Making you clench around him. The sensation pooling in your core increases when Muriel bites your shoulder muffling his moan against you.

He straightens up again hands on your hips, his breath increasing. “I’m gonna-“ he curses again “me too” You gasp Your hips move back against him and he lets you fuck yourself against him. “You’re perfect…. so so perfect” he says breathlessly “let go, please I want to feel you come around me” in a voice deep and pleading that causes you to go over the edge for him each time. With his name on your lips. he stills your hips against him, and you feel his hot release inside you. His own hips resuming his sloppy thrusts, Ridding both of your highs with moans and breaths becoming tangled. “take all of it” he moans.

After a moment when your hearts have calmed down. He slips out of you, both feeling the absence of the other. He pecks your back and cheek. “Come here” he coaxes.

Turning, you see him lay down head on his pillow. He then positions you, so you were to straddling him. Looking up at you with a blissed look that You have committed to memeory and often appears in your own dreams. “Are you okay?” He never fails to ask, pushing some of your hair back behind your ears. you node. “Always” you say kissing him. He sighs into you. You pull away with a playful grin.

“I do have to say, Your dream was quite an eventful one” as if on cue pink blooms across his already flushed face. Making you laugh.

His gaze meets yours again before looking down your body. Following your curves up again, humming. “It’s not over yet” you tilt your head questioning his words. It’s now Muriel that has a grin on his face. Lifting you up slightly he slips himself inside you again with a moan. His hands glide over your thighs, hips and waist continuing dragging his hands up your sides taking off your shirt. Forest Eyes taking you in fully under the moonlight. Making you feel loved, desired, admired, protected all at once. His hands don’t stop until they reached your face drawing you in for a gentle kiss keeping himself inside you having every inch of you against him, keeping him warm. “There. My dream is now complete.”

#muriel the hermit #muriel x reader #muriel the arcana #muriel the mountain man #the arcana smut #the arcana game #oneshot #muriel smut #the arcana asra #the arcana julian

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msfcatlover · 9 months

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Y’know what? Jason deserves one non-traumatic win in my Reverse!Robins AU. I’m tying saving Eddie into the immediate follow-up to the Red Robin/”Bruce is ‘dead’” arc, and I’m using it to fully cement Jay’s relationship with Steph.

(Somehow this ended up a full overview of that relationship. Oops. Anyway, CW for allusions to the Tower fight, the Joker, & the Red Robin arc, and all the traumas one can expect to accompany those.)

After the fight at the Tower, Jason was a mess and trying to hide it. He could admit to Cass (can’t lie to Cass anyway) that Steph scared him, could admit to Damian that Jason wanted more training to ensure his own safety, could even admit (haltingly) to Duke that Steph wasn’t what Jason thought she’d be. But… Jason’s never been good at handling vulnerability, and on top of everything else there’s this irrational sense of betrayal, that the other batkids kept telling Jason how much he & Steph would’ve gotten along, how proud Steph would be of Jason, and it turns out that actually she hates him. Jason’s hero doesn’t care if he lives or dies, even if it’s by her hand. All of Jason’s siblings are fucking liars. (Also, Jason doesn’t know what it’ll do to him if he opens up about his hurt, his conflicting feelings, his trauma, and gets brushed off. Everyone’s missed Steph so much, and it’s easy for Jason to imagine his pain being brushed off or downplayed as being at most a barrier to Steph’s return. It’s easier to just put on a brave face than find out the exact limits of his family’s love for him.)

Even after Gotham settles back into an uneasy peace, Steph the new power player & sometimes-villain reigning over Crime Alley, Jason avoids her. It takes Jason a few weeks to realize nobody seems to trust Steph around Jason; he hardly ever patrols alone anymore, and those patrols never go near her turf, someone always meets up with him if a chase takes Jason within spitting distance of the Alley, he’s not allowed on the few team-ups they have with her… and Steph is avoiding Jason too.

They do become more civil over a few accidental meetings. A few unexpected run-ins on patrol, where she basically ignores him. A few more where they have to work together, at least to win the fight. Jason decides to crash at a safehouse, Steph is already there (and a complete mess from a fight that went very, very wrong earlier in the evening), and Steph groans that she’s too tired to do this right now and can they please just ignore eachother and then never mention this again? A handful of times she rescued Jason from kidnappers, seemingly by accident, with slightly less plausible deniability each time. Once or twice Jason’s case found Steph in a rough spot and he jumped in to rescue her. The ear infection incident. They can just about pass for friendly work acquaintances who’ve never beaten eachother so badly one of them threw up and then required emergency medical care.

(Steph does try to apologize at one point, when they were both getting a midnight snack from the same food vendor, getting as far as, “I refuse to let Batman & Nightwing set the standard for emotional honesty in my life, so I’m—” then a shootout started up a few streets over. She swore, shoved her burrito into Jason’s hands, and took off. Jay had to get Tim to tell him Steph didn’t fucking die, because she never even checked back in.) (Too busy doing emergency surgery on her own leg, and cursing that she absolutely is taking her emotional cues from Damian, because the idea of having that conversation when she can’t just disappear the second it’s awkward is more than she can deal with right now.)

Then the Joker happens. Steph stays at Jason’s side until he can walk on his own again. They have several tough conversations during that time, and there are moments when they both need space from eachother, but Steph rescuing Jason has basically turned her into a mental safety blanket for him, and Jason’s situation was close enough to Steph’s death that she needs to make sure he doesn’t die the same miserable way she did. She does go back to avoiding Jason for a while once he’s off his crutches, but only for a couple weeks (during which everyone guilts her for it,) before Jason tracks her down and shows up in civvies like, “Look, you can never see me again if you want, I just wanted to make sure we’re good. I mean, we’re cool now, right?” (They both definitely still have hang ups & issues in their relationship, but yeah, they’re cool now. Or maybe it’d be more accurate to say they’ve been cool for a while, they’re just on the same page about it now.)

Bruce “dies.” The Red Robin arc happens. Jason gets stabbed, takes a dip in the Pit, calls Steph to ask her how to manage Pit Madness, which is why she was already on her way and in time to save him from… y’know, the other big traumatic thing that arc is known for. I am going to cut Jason some slack and end the arc there. He already has his proof, Steph takes him back to Gotham, he crashes at her place while the Justice League tracks down Bruce. They have a Disney marathon and don’t talk about it over the most ridiculous ice cream sundaes they can make from supermarket supplies. (Damian does find out, because he walked in on them talking around it when he stopped by to make sure they were both okay. Dami & Steph also end up having a heart to heart when he puts the pieces together and she runs after him to remind him not to take his anger out on the local criminals when he’s worked up like this. It’s only then, in the hall of a run-down apartment building at 4am, reassuring Damian that both Steph & Jason are going to be okay, that Steph realizes for the first time how small her big brother looks from her new perspective.) (Tank!Damian supporters DNI, that boy’s a beanpole, and Steph is already like 6ft tall without a Lazarus upgrade, she’s like 6′6 or something here.)

Jason reaches out to the Titans after Bruce comes home, and finds out that thanks to all Eddie’s dimension-hopping (and probably some weird timeloop/travel story arcs at some point, if we’re being real, it is comics after all,) even though Eddie & Jason were the same age when they met and Jason’s only just celebrated his 18th birthday, Eddie had apparently passed 20yrs of life at some point while Jason was gone and got dragged to Hell.

Jason will absolutely not stand for this. He calls Steph up and asks if she wants to help him bully the fucking Devil Himself.

13hrs later, Jason has his best friend back. (Eddie’s just like, “Jay??? When’d you turn into a fucking giant? How long was I gone?!”)

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harringtown · 1 year

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sorrow is a season

a/n: ik I've been super sporadic these last few months, but book revisions and tight deadlines have had me v busy!!!! anyways I’ve spent so so long on this and wanted to pull off some wild plot stuff but then I got busy and I figured I couldn’t just let the 2k I had go to waste and so, here we are. apologies for the wait anon, its been TOO long, but I hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie munson is dead. or is he? (aka a kas/vampire Eddie au)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood/death/violence mention

In the end, he is alone, like he always knew he would be.

Even the bats, either bored of a limp plaything or drawn away, fly off. The lightning seems to follow them, leaving Eddie alone on the grass in a cold, gray version of a place he never liked all that much to begin with.

The only thing that ever made the trailer park worth it was you. Though, to be fair, the only thing that made a lot of things in this shitty town worth it was you.

You. You, smiling at him from the passenger seat as you sing along to the radio, and you, whispering to him under the stars at midnight, and you, looking at him like you never want to stop.

He would give anything to see you one last time. To make sure you’re alive. Because he can’t be sure—he doesn’t know if his sacrifice is amounting to anything, or if you’re dying, too, just out of sight. Panic clears some of the fog from his brain.

At first, he doesn’t realize he’s speaking, calling out the word, “Please,” until his raw throat protests. Even then, he doesn’t stop, forcing his voice louder, screaming into the twisted ether.

Please, don’t take me away.

He isn’t sure who he’s yelling to, exactly, because he’s never believed in God, and even if he did, God sure as shit can’t hear him down here.

“I don’t want to die,” he says. Tears have mixed with the blood on his face, and his vision blurs red.

What are you willing to give in order to live?

The voice asks, and Eddie isn’t entirely sure it isn’t just some figment of his dying brain.

He shakes his head, letting it thump back against the grass. Above him, the dark red sky doesn’t hold a single star.

What are you willing to give? The voice asks again.

Later, he’ll understand what he’s about to do. But not yet. Not yet.

“Anything,” Eddie croaks. “Anything.”

A tall, hulking silhouette moves through the shadows, but Eddie can’t see their face, or anything, really. All of his senses disappear, and he’s lost in an endless sea of darkness.

Eddie Munson dies. And then, he wakes up.

Eddie Munson is dead.

Three months of telling yourself those words, and they still don’t sound real.

Two months since he was legally declared dead—there wasn’t a body, still isn’t, probably never will be, but in Hawkins, this is no longer a strange occurrence—and three months since you dragged Dustin away from his body, and it still doesn’t feel real.

You’re beginning to doubt it ever will. Maybe it will always be this way. You, looking out your front window every time you pass it and expecting to see his van idling at the curb. You, accidentally ordering his coffee alongside your own enough times that even the barista pities you.

You, still waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.

“But you’ll be there, right? 10 am?” Robin asks, her voice garbled through the phone.

Lounging on your bed, you push up, keeping the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder.

“10 am, on the field. I know. I’m not going to miss my own graduation,” you say.

“Our graduation,” Robin says. “And thank the heavens, because I swear to God, I don’t think I’d have survived another week with Mrs. Burton. If I had to read another sexist, poorly written poem by a long dead man, I was going to spontaneously combust.”

You laugh, but something about the words our graduation sticks to the back of your throat like phlegm. You and Robin’s. It was supposed to be three of you, though.

It’s as if Robin can hear your spiraling thoughts, because she says, gently, “If you want company, I can force Harrington to buy us beer and drive me over.”

You smile. “I’ll live. Besides, there’ll be plenty of beer at all the after parties I’m dragging you to tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Robin quips. “For once, I don’t mind hanging out with these people, considering I’ll never have to see most of them again.”

“One can dream,” you say.

“One can,” Robin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow.”

You exchange goodbyes with Robin and walk the phone back to the receiver, untangling the twisted cord, and hang it up. Before going back to your bed, you bring two fingers to your lips, then press them to the red electric guitar hanging over your dresser, like you do every night.

It isn’t the guitar he used to draw the very bats that killed him. That guitar was lost with Eddie.

It, along with a few tee shirts, the rings he pulled off his fingers and jammed into your hands before you left him, and a few photos, are all that remain of Eddie Munson.

You’d made a thousand plans together, and even if 99% of them were impossible, the 1% that weren’t still clatter behind you everywhere you go.

I think it’s finally my year.

1986 should have been the beginning of the rest of his life; hopefully, a life alongside you. It should have made high school and the monsters you’d fought an old story.

This, an empty grave, shouldn’t be the end.

The lock on the window in your room has been whining as long as you’ve lived in the house. A few years back, your parents tried to get it replaced, but you’d refused. You couldn’t tell them why, but you weren’t about to get rid of a built-in alarm on that window.

The whining sound pulls you out of sleep and off the mattress in under two seconds. You pull out the sledgehammer you have hidden under the bed before your eyes find the silhouette slipping through the now-open window and into your room.

Of all the nights for someone to break in, it had to be one of the miraculous few you weren’t having a nightmare. At three in the morning, that alone feels worthy of at least a tap with the hammer.

The second the figure hits the middle of your room, you lunge.

The figure ducks the swing, and jerks to the side, face illuminated by moonlight streaming in the window.

A face that can’t possibly be standing in your bedroom.

Eddie Munson. Or his ghost. Or something—

“Jesus Christ, babe, where the hell did you get a sledgehammer? Were you going to hit me with that?” Eddie exclaims, except it can’t be Eddie, because Eddie died in your arms. Because you pried Dustin off Eddie’s body. Because you’ve seen his death in your dreams every night for months.

It can’t be. It isn’t. But someone, or something, is wearing his skin, masquerading as the boy you love, and it’s the last of many, many straws.

You swing the hammer, but faster than your eyes can track, Eddie’s hand moves—you blink, and he’s holding the metal edge in one fist.

The hammer’s head is too heavy to be caught without breaking a finger—but the speed with which he moved is more troubling.

“Who the hell are you?” You snap, wrenching the hammer out of his fist, swinging again. “Get the hell out of my house, now—“

“Hold on, hold on—“ Not-Eddie backs up, hands raised, and with each second that passes, your brain files away the subtle differences. The color of his eyes, that beautiful brown, almost has a red tint in the dark. “It’s me. I swear to God, it’s me.”

“Whatever this sick game is, I’m not playing.” You raise the sledgehammer parallel to the floor and point it at him, using it to push him back toward the window. “Out.”

“Okay, okay, just—just wait.” He jumps to the side just before hitting the window, skating along the wall and darting around you. You whip around, and Eddie is there in a blink, plucking the hammer out of your hands. He tosses it onto your bed and slides into place directly between you and your weapon.

“If I wasn’t me, how would I have known how to open the window?”

Your Eddie could pop the lock in seconds. It was why you always kept it locked, because the only person who might need to get in could.

“Anybody—anything— can jimmy a lock,” you snap.

Maybe it’s your lack of a good night’s sleep in the recent past, or the darkness of the room, but you swear, he almost looks hurt.

“Harsh, but fair.” He takes a breath. “But it really is me.”

“Eddie Munson died three months ago,” you say. “I was there.”

“Yeah, I saw the gravestone. Bet my funeral had a hell of a turnout,” he says.

“Just stop. You’re not him. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not him.”

Eddie seems to chew on his words for a moment. “We met in gym class. You were a junior. I was a senior, the second time. You were hiding behind the long jump mats during the mile run, and I army-crawled my ass over to you so that ancient gym teacher didn’t bust us both. Naturally, he saw me, and the second he yelled, you shoved me out onto the track on my ass.” He grins. “I was pretty much done for, after that.”

You shake your head. “Twenty other people were on the track that day—”

“Fine. Okay.” He huffs a breath. Folds his arms over his chest. “Right, okay, so a few weeks after we started hanging out, I took you to Lover’s Lake. We ate Cheetos and drank warm Coke on the dock, and you told me about that field trip, the one to the museum in middle school. You got lost, ended up in the art exhibit for two hours until a chaperone tracked you down. After that, you couldn’t get enough of all those old—what is it? Abstract paintings.”

Your heart beats like a kick drum, so loud you’re surprised it hasn’t woken the whole house.

Eddie’s gaze darts down—and you don’t remember much of the few anatomy lessons you had, but you’d swear he looks where your heart is.

“This isn’t possible,” you say softly.

Eddie’s lips pull thin. “You kissed me outside that gas station on main because you said you were tired of waiting for me to do it.” A smile softens his expression. “And the first time you told me you loved me, we were in this room, in that bed, but you had to whisper because your parents were downstairs.” He takes a step forward. “And I said it back. Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t whisper either, but you weren’t even pissed. Y’know, I’d only said that to one other person before you, but I didn’t hesitate.“

“No. You can’t be here.” You swallow. Shake your head. Hope is banging its fists against your ribcage, desperate to break out of the prison you locked it in. Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall.

Eddie shrugs. “But I am.”

He takes a step toward you, and when you don’t move away, he takes another. Only when there are no more steps to take does he stop, the rubber of his sneakers kissing the tips of your toes.

He doesn’t move any further, like he’s leaving the last inch up to you.

You hold his gaze. Reach a hand up and let it settle on his cheek.

“Eddie?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into your hand. “It’s me.”

Just like that, the sob that’s been sitting at the base of your throat for months dislodges, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He still feels like your Eddie, still smells like him beneath that overhanging scent of ash.

The moment he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, you know it’s Eddie. You’ve been in these arms so many times, you fit like puzzle pieces.

“Eddie,” you say again, voice muffled by his hair, and he just holds you tighter, so tight you can barely breathe but you don’t care.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in months, you can breathe.

For ten minutes, everything is like it was. Eddie is all bravado and big smiles, like the last three months never happened, and you let the lie hang because you’ve missed him too badly to pull it back. But it’s more fog than curtain, and it evaporates fast.

Eddie pulls you onto the bed and into his arms, just holding you, and the way your bodies fold together may be the same, but nothing else is.

His skin is cooler, dryer. Covered in scars. His scent, one you can’t describe but know, isn’t totally different, but it’s not the same, either.

And his eyes. He clearly took efforts to keep them out of the light—asking you not to turn a lamp on, keeping his chin ducked—but up close, there’s no mistaking it.

The deep, dark brown is more like a deep red wine someone spilled on a carpet. It’s a beautiful, inhuman shade of red. And you may have seen enough weird shit to fill a museum over the last few years, it sets off every alarm bell inside you. Like an ancient voice is urging you to run while everything else tells you to stay.

Your first observation was right. He isn’t your Eddie. He’s something different. Evolved. And you’re not sure if it’s for better or worse. You’re also not sure if you give a shit.

There are so many questions to ask, but they’d all break the bubble you’re resting in, so you settle for the softest you can think of.

“Tell me what happened to you,” you say gently, keeping your forehead pressed to his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye; that, and because you’re trying to find a heartbeat. You haven’t. “How you survived. I’m not an idiot, Eddie. And I can only pretend I haven’t noticed that your eyes are a different color or that you move faster than you should. That somehow, you’ve been in the Upside Down for three months, and you’re not a decayed corpse.”

Eddie’s hands, steady as they glide up and down your back, your arms, your sides, stall, and his fingers curl slightly into your hoodie.

“You were there,” he says. “You saw it all.”

“Clearly, not everything. You were dead when I left—”

“Almost dead.”

“What?” you stiffen.

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was mostly dead. Kissing Death, straight on the lips, tongue and all. And then…”

“And then?”

He inhales, and says, “And then, I made a deal with the devil. A deal I can’t take back.”

You lean back. You may not have all the pieces, but you have enough to get some understanding at the full picture.

The only devil in the Upside Down is Vecna. And if he brought Eddie back—whatever the definition of back is—he didn’t go it out of the goodness of his heart.

“Eddie, what did you do?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Look, I know you want answers, and I want to give them to you, but I…” He pauses. His hand comes up to your cheek, his cold fingers tracing a line down to your jaw. You shiver. “I’ve spent the last three months waiting for a single minute he wasn’t on my ass, watching me, and I don’t have a lot of time. So, I swear to God, I’ll answer all your questions, but right now, I just want to be here. With you.”

You frown. “You’re not staying.”

Eddie is silent for a long time before he says, “I can’t. Not yet.”

You shift back, sitting up so that only his outline is visible in your periphery. From this angle, blurry and out of focus, he still looks like the Eddie you lost. An Eddie whose biggest problem was whether he’d actually graduate this year.

Eddie sits up beside you, a hand on your arm. He exhales, dropping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s a familiar position, and without thinking, you tip your head against his, temple to temple.

“I’m still a puppet,” he says softly. “Just because he’s not holding my strings right now doesn’t mean he’s not coming back for them.”

You scoff. “If you’re just… some puppet, how are you here now? I mean, am I even talking to the real you right now?”

Eddie stiffens.

“I’m me,” he says. “A lot of the time… I’m more him than me. But right now, right here, I’m me. I’m just Eddie.” He lifts his chin. You crane your head to meet his eyes.

“I spent months waiting for a chance. V—He’s been so weak after everything that went down, he’s been stuck down there. Healing. Even when I came topside to fee—” He stops abruptly. Changes course. “But now…” Eddie pauses. It’s like he’s battling two voices in his head, one telling him to speak, the other urging him silent. “Let’s just say, he’s on a business trip, and I’m supposed to be down there, keeping an eye on things. I only had a few hours.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, like if you keep your voice low enough, the world won’t hear and jinx you.

“I know, angel,” he says. He drops his chin and presses a long kiss to the side of your head. When he pulls back, his expression has shifted, freezing over like Lovers Lake every December. His voice isn’t entirely his own as he says, “But there’s something I need to take care of before I can stay.”

“Something?” you ask. “Or someone?”

Eddie lets out a long sigh. He rolls onto his back, hands coming up behind his head, and the posture, his presence beside you, the tickle of his hair against your shoulder, is somehow familiar and foreign at once.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I want you to stay alive—” He lifts his brows, and you huff, pressing on. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. And you know that it wasn’t some… miracle that brought me back. It was—” He stops. “If he’s still around, I’m not really me. I’m just another one of his weapons.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. No human should be able to hear it. But Eddie does.

“I’m gonna try,” he says.

“And if you can’t?”

Eddie shrugs. He pointedly averts his gaze as he says, “If I can’t, then I go out fighting. Maybe I can get a few decent shots in before he takes me out.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie twists, shifting so he’s half in front of you. He takes your face in his hands and forces your gaze. The angles of his face are sharper, his eyes are clearer. He isn’t the Eddie you lost, but he’s still your Eddie, under it all.

“I’m already on borrowed time, sweetheart. Might as well make it worth something.”

You shake your head. “No. That’s bullshit. We’ll just… we’ll get out of here. Tonight. We can get in my car and drive until we get to a city big enough to disappear in. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You know, I’ve been running since I learned to walk.” His thumb traces a line up and down your jaw. “I never even thought about stopping. Never wanted to.” A sad smile ghosts his lips. “Then, one day, I met you. And I had a reason to stay. So, I’m gonna fight for it. And I’m gonna come back for you.”

Before, Eddie Munson could have won a contest for stubbornness. It appears dying or almost dying didn’t change that.

You take a breath. Close your eyes for a long moment. When you open them, you say, “You better. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And I’ll make sure it takes this time.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and loops his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. For a long time, you stay that way, holding each other and pretending the seconds aren’t rolling by.

And then, much sooner than you’d like, Eddie peels himself out of your arms. He climbs off the bed, and you follow him back to the window. The latch whines in protest as he lifts the windowpane, like it too is dreading his departure.

He climbs out onto the roof and turns back to the window, his slender hands on the sill. His fingers look naked without their rings.

Your stomach clawing up your throat, you lift the thin chain out from under your shirt, the metal rings hanging from it clacking. You unlatch it and pull off a thick, black ring. Unlike the others, taken off him in the Upside Down, you’ve had this ring for ages. He gave it to you a long, long time ago.

You lift one of his hands, sliding it onto his middle finger. He curls his fingers around yours, squeezing hard.

“Come back to me,” you say.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. “Promise.”

Eddie leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, and the cool touch of his lips disappears. When you open your eyes, he’s gone. Like he was never there at all.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Three weeks pass. By the fourteenth day, you’re halfway convinced you hallucinated Eddie. By the twentieth, you’re sure of it.

Call it your brain trying to process the mountain of grief inside you. Or the end of the slow spiral into madness you started three years ago, when a Demogorgon nearly dragged you through a portal in a tree.

Fantasizing a conversation with your dead boyfriend isn’t exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened. It’s better than the alternative: that Eddie is gone, for real.

And then, on the twenty second night, the latch on your window whines open.

In seconds, you’re up and out of bed, standing in the middle of your room just the way you were a few weeks ago. Staring at a silhouette near the window just the way you were a few weeks ago.

The figure half-covered by shadows is limping, and something dark drips off their hands—what you can see of them is covered in a dark substance that has to be blood.

“I know, I know, I’m an asshole. I don’t write, I don’t call…” A familiar, if not a little rough and raw, voice says, and the massive knot that’s been coiling in your gut for weeks untangles itself in an instant.

“Eddie,” you breathe, as he steps into the moonlight.

“Told you I'd be back,” he says, flashing you a smile between heavy breaths. His canines are wickedly sharp, longer than they should be, and shining with blood. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re really here? I’m not hallucinating?”

A smile twitches across his red lips.

“You’re not hallucinating. I’m here,” he says.

“For good?”

“For good,” he says. His mouth curves up, and his smile appears here to stay.

Like him.

And you don’t care how he got here. What he had to become just to be standing here right now. You don’t care what it might take to keep him here, either.

All that matters is that he’s here. Period.

So, you cross the room in three steps, and pull him into your arms. Blood and all.

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#brooke writes fic #x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #stranger things #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie

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thearchmanofgreenfield · 1 month

Text

As the sun slowly crawled up the sky from the horizon, the great clock tower of Bellmont read six hours after midnight. The early morning light fell upon the city. With the light came a sense of serenity and joy before the streets would erupt into chaos.

Lucian, however, did not feel very at peace.

He couldn’t remember when he woke up, only that it had been hours before sunrise. His mind was full of dread and nervousness. He had gotten used to thinking of his initiation as a distant hurdle he would never arrive at. Now it was mere hours away and the mere thought of it weighed as much as the ocean itself. He sat in the living room quietly pondering, too nervous to look down the hallway. The silence was calming but it wasn’t enough. So he sat still even as the morning light flowed in through the windows. He stared at the floor, too drowned in his thoughts to notice the things happening around him. All he could hear were the whispers and static as millions of thoughts raced through his head. He imagined what the ceremony would look like, ever since childhood he had been told that it was an event of utmost importance, a rite of sacred passage passed down from their ancestors from the ancient moor. He imagined walking down the hall with so many eyes fixated on him, judging him with glares and whispers behind their masks. He imagined the knife, the blood, the pain and the audience staring at him with disappointment. It was almost too much to bear.

“It’s not that bad.” The sudden voice had him jump in his seat. He looked up to find Willow sitting a few feet away from him in a red velvet chair, wearing her blue shirt over a whitish blue nightgown. She had a cup of tea in her hands, and a tray full of several more cups floated next to her head. “I think you’re too frightened of something so trivial.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Lucian, feeling quite awkward and embarrassed that he did not notice her sitting there.

“Give or take ten minutes. I thought you’d come around eventually but you were too busy wallowing in your own misery to notice me” She then made one of the cups in the tray float into Lucian’s lap. Lucian grabbed the cup and laid it on his knee. “For you. I made more for the Hatlys. They will be coming along any minute now. You better want to apologize once they show up.”

“Why is that?” asked Lucian as he blew on his tea. Willow smirked. “Because your thoughts were so loud that they’ve kept them up for the past few hours, especially little Elliott.”

Lucian’s face turned a mild shade of red. He nervously glanced toward the living room entrance. Willow just kept talking. “I suppose you’d want to talk about your deadly fear of ceremonies, it won’t do you any harm.”

Lucian stared at Willow. “Is that why you came here? Does talking to me alter the future somehow?”

Willow giggled as though Lucian had said something funny. “Of course not, silly! Is that how you think the future functions? You and I talking has no implications on any of what is to come.”

“Then why are you so keen to talk? Seems unnecessary in that regard, don’t you think?” asked Lucian, who appreciated it but also felt odd about it due to being used to Lily’s often not-so-sincere attitude.

“I’m bored,” Willow said simply, rolling her eyes. “What I’m here for won’t happen for some time so might as well observe your depressing state to pass the time”. Lucian felt a sudden sense of familiarity. Willow almost sounded exactly like Lily.

“Has my sister been telling you things about me?”

“She doesn’t need to. But I have seen her complaining to Charles about how difficult it is to live with someone who sobs and moans about something so small. I wouldn’t usually believe the ramblings of a younger sibling, but you’re not making yourself look better.”

She then leaned closer to Lucian, perhaps noticing his look of betrayal once he heard about Lily. “I hope you do not seek petty retribution against your sister. And if you do, keep my name out of it.”

Lucian sighed. He then raised his cup of tea and drank it all with one sip. It hurt his throat a bit but he didn’t mind. Even Willow seemed to change her demeanor to a more sympathetic state. However, Lucian wasn’t sure whether it was sympathy or pity.

“I suppose it is fair to fear the dagger, but It is not something to dread as though it were the end of your existence.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lucian grimly, “There is no avoiding it now.”

Willow sighed. It was clear Lucian’s state was sadder than she expected, despite being able to see the future. “At least you’re not alone. That counts for something, does it not?”

“I don’t do well with crowds,” Lucian replied plainly.

Willow tilted her head. “Even if those crowds are composed of your friends and relatives?”

Lucian scoffed. “Especially if they’re friends and family. At least with strangers you only meet them once.”

Willow smiled sympathetically before leaning into her chair and drinking her tea. “Well, at least-” she began but she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from outside the living room. Two people in white nightgowns then entered in a dizzy haze. They were Laura and Charlotte Hatly. Willow stopped talking when she noticed them and so she didn’t finish her sentence, she just continued to drink her tea. Meanwhile, Laura and Charlotte appeared as though they hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Why good morning!” said Willow with a smile.

“Why are you both awake at this hour?” asked Laura, blinking several times in quick succession from sheer exhaustion. Meanwhile, Charlotte helped herself to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Why are you?” Willow simply asked back. Lucian said nothing; he simply sat in his chair and tried to look normal.

“Charlie and I couldn’t sleep; someone here was having the loudest nightmares I have heard in years! Hours of muffled incomprehensible rambling! Whoever it was kept waking up Elliott, and unfortunately his fits are more difficult to avoid than their thoughts,” said Laura in an exhausted and frustrated voice as she sat on a small sofa. Lucian saw Willow smile and chuckle behind her tea cup.

“Well I wouldn’t call what you heard nightmares,” she said. She then took two cups of tea from the tray and floated them into Laura and Charlotte’s hands. Charlotte seemed too tired to drink while Laura reclined on her chair and slowly took several sips.

“Why is that?” asked Laura. Lucian saw Willow shoot him a glance. Both Laura and Charlotte gave him a look of surprise and annoyance.

“All that ‘muffled rambling’ was him contemplating his initiation as though it was the end of the world. I’ve been trying to console him for the past few minutes,” Willow said, and then placed her hand vertically on her mouth to cover it from Lucian’s view. “And it’s not working” she whispered as though she thought Lucian couldn’t hear her.

It was at that moment that Lucian’s patience was overtaken by the desire for petty vengeance. He flicked his finger just as Willow was about to take a sip of her tea. Within moments, the cup from which she drank changed as the top shifted, stretched inward and covered the mouth making the cup more like a ball than a cup. Willow did not see this immediately and as her lip touched the edge of the cup; instead of her tea she was met with the feel of warm, partially heated ceramic.

She gasped and jerked backwards towards her chair in surprise for a moment before actually looking down at the cup and realizing what had happened. She gave Lucian a stern glare. Lucian simply smiled smugly. He also saw both Hatlys giggle in amusement as Willow’s annoyance.

“Why are you here, Willow? I doubt Morrows are ever anywhere they don’t need to be,” said Laura.

“Oh don’t worry,” said Willow while casually placing her now unusable cup on the floating tray. “I’m not here just so I can observe him,” she said with a smile gesturing heavily towards Lucian. “He’s merely entertainment. What I’m actually here for hasn’t arrived yet.”

Lucian didn’t know how to feel about being called ‘entertainment’ in his current state. He knew Willow had not meant it harshly, yet it made him feel awkward. He did not speak up about it, instead he watched as Laura continued her questioning.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Laura curiously.

But Willow simply nodded her head. “If I did, it may change the outcome.” Her comment made Lucian raise his eyebrow since she had said the exact opposite to him earlier. Had she been lying? Before he could complete those thoughts, Charlotte chimed in.

“This isn’t about Joe’s little scheme, is it?”

Laura glanced at Charlotte, as though wondering why she hadn’t thought that herself. But nonetheless, she seemed to agree with her sister. “Are you waiting for one of the adults?” she asked with more suspicion.

“I do not endorse Joe's plans,” assured Willow, clearly realizing that refusing the Hatlys was fruitless. “I was just curious. Perhaps he has a point.”

“Curious? Aren’t you the one who can see the future?” asked Laura.

“I cannot clearly fathom futures involving my own parents, hence I am blind,” said Willow swiftly, as though she took insult in the Hatlys doubting her ability. “Besides, if Joe is indeed correct, we might as well know more about what our parents are planning.”

Lucian suddenly remembered the conversation he had yesterday with Lira. She had said something about the ‘worst outcome’. As he was thinking, Laura gave him a glaring look, clearly having sensed something. Lucian panicked, recalling his vow of secrecy. He tried to get those thoughts out of his mind. Their eyes met. Lucian noticed that Charlotte had not reacted the same way Laura had, he assumed she had not sensed Lucian’s thoughts. He shook his head slowly at Laura. She saw this, but simply turned her gaze and opened her mouth to say something to Willow. Lucian panicked.

“Our parents have many secrets, and they all seem intent on hiding them. Even I cannot look into their minds. They’re all so…fortified”

“In any case,” Charlotte chimed in. “Who among us here actually wants to associate with Angelmore?” He is conniving and distrustful. Always has been.”

“I wouldn’t blame Joe too much,” said Laura. “Hearing voices behind closed doors can be a curse. And even if it wasn’t, I feel like being the only child of a Great House would make anyone distrustful. The Circle has a history of traitors.”

“No member of a Great House has been killed in fifty years,” argued Charlotte.

“But it is still not wrong to fear the worst,” said Laura in return.

Lucian once again remembered Lira’s statement from the day before, “The lives of your peers…” the words rang in his head. But this time he blocked those thoughts before Laura or Charlotte would notice.

“I think it is best we find out what we can,” he said. “You all read the paper. The Circle is involved in some conflict with the Order. And that means danger is in the air.”

The room went silent. Willow nodded, while Laura and Charlotte exchanged glances. “Well, I’d never thought I’d see you agree with Joe of all people. I thought you detested each other!”

“We don’t detest each other,” Lucian snapped back, “He just detests me” he thought to himself in his head. Charlotte raised his eyebrow at Lucian. He simply ignored her “We just have never been… close. I do not agree with him on everything. But, he was right. It is suspicious that all the children of the Great Houses were brought to the same place on the same day.”

Lucian then heard something coming from outside the house. It was the sound of clanking metal and sliding rubber. The sound of a car. Lucian swiftly made his way over to the window with the Hatlys close behind him. He pulled back the curtains and peered outside. Outside the house, he saw what appeared to be a retinue of cars, five or six in all. They were all black and they circled the street before parking in an organized line outside the front door of the house.

“What’s going on?” he asked himself. The Hatly sisters were standing on either side of him and seemed to be wondering the same.

“Now I would appreciate it if you would all remain quiet,” said Willow as she sat sternly on her chair. Lucian and the Hatlys watched as a crowd of people came pouring out of the cars. Lucian noticed that most of them were wearing navy blue cloaks over white uniforms. Some had golden star-shaped badges and small golden chains holding their cloaks to their shoulders. Among them was also a small group of men who wore brown cloaks with no ornaments. Lucian didn’t know what he had expected, but this was definitely not it. They looked more like soldiers, not drivers.

“What are they?” asked Charlotte, perplexed.

“The blue ones must be the Gratousy,” deduced Laura, “Regular soldiers wear brown and silver. And I’ve never seen any except Boroughman who wear gold”

Lucian wondered. He knew what the Gratousy were. The most elusive branch of the Circulion army, made entirely of the most powerful and most loyal soldiers in the Circle. They answered to no one other than the Great Houses, their only objective, to serve and protect their lieges. Lucian had been around these elite men and women his whole life, he knew that all their drivers were Gratousy, as well as that at least a few of them patrolled Allison Street. They only allowed a select few people to enter the road, including the boy who delivered their newspapers.

“What are they doing here?” asked Charlotte, “And why are they all dressed in uniform?”

“That I don’t know,” replied Laura. Lucian and the Hatlys then continued to watch as the men dressed in blue and brown gathered around outside the house. Willow still sat on her chair ignoring them. Lucian watched as some of the men opened the rear doors of some of the cars. Some people in suits appeared from the back. He recognized all of them. From one car came out his father, Henry and his uncle, David. He also saw Willow’s father, Mr. Eustice Morrow and another he knew to be Laura and Charlotte’s father, Mr. Carlyle Hatly. He even saw a woman appear among them, he knew her to be Mrs. Morning, Arthur and Evelyn’s mother.

Lucian saw them all approach the front door; they seemed to be talking to each other. Lucian then turned to Willow. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes,” said Willow, who was staring at the front door. “And I would very much appreciate it if you sat down and pretended to be somewhat oblivious! Can’t have the adults being suspicious.”

Lucian and the Hatlys obliged. They all rushed to their seats as the crowd of adults made it to the front door. Lucian returned to his lonely position on the sofa just as he heard the doorknob turn. He watched as the door opened and the first person to come inside was his own father, Henry. At first, he did not notice them. He was busy saying something to one of the Gratousy. It took him a few moments to turn towards the living room. Lucian saw him pause mid-sentence as he saw the four children staring directly at him.

“Oh…” he said, looking directly at Lucian and the others. “What are you all doing here?”

Lucian froze. He had not thought of an excuse for this moment. “Uh…” he stuttered. But luckily for him, Willow had him covered.

“Well we were all just having some tea, Mr. Demon,” she said, showing Henry her undrinkable cup. Henry raised his eyebrow and Lucian buried his face in his hands. “Figured we’d wake up early for such an important day, right?” she said gesturing towards the Hatly sisters, who seemed as unprepared as Lucian was. Lucian suddenly saw Laura fixate on Henry, as though she had seen something, or read something.

“Uh…yes! Yes indeed” said Laura immediately agreeing to what Willow said. Charlotte then nodded too. Lucian saw Willow’s father Eustice stare at her suspiciously, but Willow acted as though nothing was wrong. Her casual demeanor was almost incredible.

Lucian also noticed Laura’s father Carlyle surveying the room from behind the others. He tried his best to flood his brain with random thoughts. His father looked at him with doubt. Or was it doubt? Either way, he tried his best to keep eye contact and maintain a normal appearance. What followed was an awkward moment where both parties remained silent. A silence that was only broken by Mrs. Morning.

“Well then, it is certainly very nice of you all to stay by Lucian’s side! Is it not?” she said, holding Henry by the shoulder as she made her way to the front of the group. Henry, unfortunately, was too focused on the children to notice immediately. Henry flinched and jerked his head when his mind finally registered what Mrs. Morning had said.

“Yes!” he said quickly and almost half-heartedly, “Very nice indeed”

“Good, so why don’t we all let them be? We have other business to attend to after all” said Mrs. Morning. Henry then straightened himself and nodded. “Yes, agreed” he then gave Lucian one last look before turning to the soldiers. His father gestured his hand and pointed in various different directions. They then scattered with some going back outside and some going further into the house. Once he was done with that, Henry turned to his peers and gestured towards the staircase.

“If you all may,” he said with a polite smile. Mrs. Morning left without a fuss. But Lucian saw both Eustice and Carlyle look at their children suspiciously. Especially Eustice. Henry then turned to Lucian and, to Lucian’s surprise, nodded his head. Lucian, who was still quite unprepared, awkwardly nodded back. Henry then turned around without a second thought and left.

The moment all the adults were gone from view Lucian saw both Willow and the Hatlys sigh deeply with relief. And from his right, Willow stood up from her chair. She kept her undrinkable cup on the tray and placed the whole thing on a nearby desk before standing up and heading out of the room.

“Where are you going?” asked Laura, floating her cup onto the tray as well.

“Can’t you read it from my mind?” Willow asked. “I’m going to follow them.”

“Why? Won’t you be seen by the soldiers immediately?” asked Charlotte.

Willow simply smiled smugly. “And what would they think? I doubt they will assume I have any ulterior goals when it comes to talking to my own father! Besides, I have the future on my side.”

Charlotte tilted her head doubtfully, “So that’s your plan? Walk into a room and hope to learn something?”

“No,” Willow said simply. “I hope to get something. As soon as your sister tells me what she saw when the adults walked in here.”

All eyes diverted to her, Laura gave Willow a glance. But she didn’t try to hide anything. “I didn’t see much,” she said, trying to recollect what she heard. “Just letters, numbers and an envelope. Everything else was shrouded in worried thoughts.”

Lucian didn’t like the sound of that. But Willow only seemed to pay attention to the first part of what Laura said. “An envelope, you say? A letter of sorts?” she said with intrigue.

“Yes, white with a wax stamp. But that’s all I saw” said Laura. It seemed to Lucian that that was all Willow needed.

“Well, I assume it must be important for it to occupy Mr. Demon’s mind so thoroughly,” she said, more convinced than ever. Laura nodded. Charlotte still looked at Willow with doubt. And all of it made Lucian’s curiosity reach a fever pitch. He knew that Willow was right, and he wanted to know more.

“I’ll come with you,” he said standing up next to Willow. Willow looked at Lucian with genuine surprise for a moment; she then smiled smugly and turned towards the Hatlys. “See? At least Lucian here is nice enough to help me,” she said while nudging Lucian on the shoulder.

“You didn’t ask for our help…,” said Laura. A response that Willow was apparently waiting for since she immediately cut her off. “I shouldn’t have to, it's common courtesy to help a friend. Even with something some would consider rather questionable, wouldn’t you agree?” She said, turning to Lucian. Lucian looked at Laura and Charlotte, both of whom were unimpressed. He did not respond even though Willow apparently expected him to. However, his silence still did not defer her.

“Well then,” she said, turning back to the Hatlys. “We’re off! And you’re welcome to join. I assume you’re a little bit curious… or bored,” she said. What followed was an awkward silence, as she did not receive any response to her very convincing pitch, even from Lucian. So she continued. “Besides, we still have hours before Lucian’s ceremony. We won’t even have breakfast for another three hours! Are you going to just sit there and do nothing for a whole day?”

Lucian saw Laura raise an eyebrow, she then glanced at Charlotte who shrugged. Lucian knew they needed their help. He tried to echo that through his thoughts in a subtle manner, hoping they would take the hint. Finally, a moment later, Laura rolled her eyes and stood up.

“I suppose you’re right, we might as well come along with you,” she said, straightening her gown. To which Willow smiled joyously, “Wonderful! Our prospects for success are no longer non-existent!” she then momentarily turned to Lucian and whispered, “No offense to you”

Laura flinched. Her mood slowly shifted towards anger. “So you need us? Why didn’t you tell us that from the start? Instead of being so long winded!” she said with a voice laced with an undertone of annoyance.

“Oh I could’ve” Willow said casually, “But where’s the fun in that? Many people would like to know the future, but few would ever like to understand it. Best to just let them do it all on their own, it’s more amusing that way”

“And more frivolous, '' Laura remarked quite harshly. But Willow simply laughed at such a statement. “Time is an infinite road, Hatly. Everything you or I do is frivolous in the end. So why not have some fun?”

Laura went silent, and so did Charlotte and Lucian. Yet Willow continued, “I wouldn’t be so insulted by a little verbal mischief. Or are you just upset that you can’t read my mind as easily and conveniently as everyone else’s? Not when I don’t want you to.”

Laura was not amused; she stared at Willow with utter disdain while Willow smiled innocently. She then sighed and took a deep breath before composing herself. Willow said nothing; instead, she walked out of the living room gesturing to the others to follow her. Lucian saw Charlotte give a sympathetic shrug to her sister as she walked past her. He himself then began to follow her as they made their way out of the room. Laura walked up behind Lucian, staying quiet as they made their way to the stairs.

“Do you even know where the adults went? They could be in any one of these rooms!” said Charlotte walking beside Willow.

“Well, that’s a bit tricky. They could be anywhere. But I know they would be somewhere secretive” she said. She turned her head back to address Lucian, “Is there any place your father isn’t particularly fond of you being in? A private office? A study of sorts?”

“A study,” Lucian replied swiftly. “The second door in the hallway to the right. It’s my father’s private study”

“Then that’s where we’ll look first!”

Willow then quickened her pace as they made their way to the second floor. Charlotte followed suit, trying to keep up. Lucian also tried to walk faster but before he could take another step, he felt a hand grab him by the right shoulder. He turned around and saw Laura holding him back while the other two walked further and further away.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said in a quiet whisper.

“What do you mean?” asked Lucian with a shrug. Laura then walked in front of Lucian while still holding onto him in order to prevent him from walking away. “You’re hiding something! I’ve seen it. Your mind is burying something important”

Lucian tried his best not to panic at that moment. He had known that an eventual confrontation would come from either the Hatlys or the Morrows. But he wasn’t prepared for it. Lucian didn’t know whether he should talk. Would he be betraying Lira’s trust? Or was it inevitable? He took a deep breath and straightened himself while trying to keep his mind as blank as possible.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I hide something from you?”

It was clear that his oblivious approach wasn’t working, Laura looked behind her for a moment and then grabbed Lucian by the collar once she realized no one was looking.

“I know you’re hiding something! You’ve been hiding something since yesterday. I can see glimpses of it in your mind. I know you lied to the Bernsteins, I know it!”

She then leaned closer to Lucian, her voice sounding cold and frustrated. Perhaps because she had been unable to get the information out of Lucian’s mind. “So what is it? Does it have something to do with our parents?”

Lucian’s mind was racing, still conflicted. “I’m not supposed to say. And it doesn’t have anything to do with our parents!”

Laura let go. Apparently realizing that Lucian wasn’t as persistent as she had original expected. Lucian tried to be as vague as possible while still trying to keep his mind blank.

“If it isn’t about the adults, then why are you so keen to hide it?”

“Lira told me to keep it a secret, and apparently I can’t even do that properly” Lucian remarked. The name Lira made Laura raise her eyebrow. “So Lira is involved? So that’s the reason she called you yesterday”. Lucian nodded. She then placed her hand on her chin and pondered. “Of course she knows something; I suppose the adults are willing to let her in on the secret since she’s the oldest”

“She didn’t tell me much, just that the Morrows saw something. Something that will happen today! And it isn’t good”

“The Morrows?” said Laura, now more calm and curious. “So this has something to do with the future. Why didn’t Willow say anything? Actually, never mind that. Knowing her, she would convey it through a long series of ‘jokes’ that no one would find amusing”

“Willow doesn’t know. Remember, she said she couldn’t see anything involving her parents” said Lucian in Willow’s defense. Laura sighed. “So what is this future that Lira thought so dire as to warn you about? And why hasn’t she told any of us?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that it will happen after the ceremony. Maybe Lira thinks if I tell you it would change the future. Maybe that’s the reason they brought so many Gratousy here”

“Hmmm” he heard Laura murmur. “Perhaps you’re right. But I doubt it. Knowing them it was probably to stop us asking too many questions”

“Well, I still don’t think you should tell this to anyone else,” Lucian pleaded. “It isn’t very useful and I don’t want to take the risk of changing the future”

Laura pondered some more, perhaps wondering whether Lucian’s concerns were worth taking into consideration. “So what are we supposed to do during this so-called ‘bad event’?”

“I’m supposed to take you all into the Mirror for safety. When my ceremony is done, I’ll have the ability to open the Gateway. Lira told me that I would be the only one who can when the time is right”

“The Mirror? You mean the place that is impossible to traverse and the place that’s supposedly infested with grotesque monsters. The place that no Circulion is allowed to enter?” said Laura doubtfully. Lucian was worried whether she would think he was making this up.

“Lira said it will be the only safe place when the time comes, if the time comes. And that’s all she told me, I swear on the Moor!”

Laura narrowed her eyes on Lucian. Perhaps she was still trying to read his mind. She stayed that way for a few moments before relenting. She then turned around and gave Lucian a side-eyed glance. “I suppose telling the others right away wouldn’t be of much use. Not until we know more”

Lucian sighed in relief. Laura then turned around and gave him a stern glare. “But don’t think you can hide a secret from me or Charlie. You know better than that”. Lucian calmed himself, “I told Lira that, she didn’t seem to think you’d be a problem”

Laura chuckled. “Well it is clear that she was wrong”. She then smiled, apparently satisfied by Lucian’s reluctant openness. “It is bad enough that I had to endure Morrow, don’t have me worrying about you. Joe told us to trust each other”

That made Lucian almost laugh aloud. “Ha, I would bet my life that Joe is secretly suspicious of all of us. You know he is just waiting for a chance to accuse one of us. So it’s ironic of him to preach trust when he trusts no one”

Laura raised her eyebrow, seemingly interested in Lucian’s opinion about his peer as he ranted. She then began to laugh quietly while Lucian still spoke. Perhaps she saw all the thoughts Lucian didn’t say out loud floating around in his mind. “I suppose you’re right, but so is he. If we are to figure out what’s going on here then we should trust each other. Don’t you agree?”

Lucian nodded and managed a small smile. Laura smiled back in response. Then they both turned and walked in the direction of Henry’s study in order to catch up to Willow and Charlotte. They entered the second floor and turned right onto the second hallway, the hallway itself was sand green and plastered with a pattern of golden stars. Lucian walked onto the hallway and saw Willow and Charlotte standing in front of the second door. Both he and Laura walked up to them quietly as Lucian noticed that Charlotte had knelt down on her knees and placed her ear on the door. Willow saw them coming and sighed.

“Oh good, you came. I was beginning to worry that you both had run off”

“Was there a future where that happened?” asked Lucian. Willow tilted her head back and forth in response. Neither confirming nor denying.

“What are you doing?” asked Laura, watching perplexed as Charlie kept her head on the door.

“I can’t read their minds through the door, they’re too quiet,” she said in response while not moving. “I can just barely hear them through this door”

“Perhaps we should get Joe’s help. Hearing is of course his specialty,” suggested Willow. “I think his room is on the fourth floor”

“I’ll go!” said Charlotte, volunteering immediately, taking her ear off the door. “I can’t stand listening to this! It’s all jumbling and bickering!”

As Charlotte stood up to leave, Lucian took her place. He was curious so he knelt down on the floor and kept his ear to the door. He realized Charlotte was right; all he could hear was muffled noise coming from several arguing voices. He could barely make out which voice belonged to who. The only one he could recognize was his father’s, most likely because it was familiar to him. He could hear words like ‘you’ and ‘we’. But other than that he couldn’t hear anything substantial.

He watched as Willow and Charlotte walked off into the hallway in the direction of the stairs. Meanwhile Lucian took his ear off the door and leaned against the wall once he realized there was no point.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asked Laura.

“About what?”

“About the adults opening the door and finding us here. Wouldn’t you think they would find that peculiar?”

“I doubt Willow would leave us here without telling us that. Besides, I can hear their minds enough to know that they have no intention of coming out at this moment”

“You can hear them?” Lucian asked with mild surprise and intrigue.

“Just their loudest thoughts. I can hear minds better than Charlie, but walls always present a very difficult barrier,” said Laura, staring at the sand-green wall.

“Can you hear all their minds? Even your father’s?” Lucian asked, more curious than ever. The mentioning of her father made Laura look at Lucian with an expression of surprise But such a look only lasted for a moment before she went back to staring at the wall.

“No,” she said plainly. “I can’t hear his thoughts. Frankly, I have never heard them. My father has spent decades building walls around his mind that neither I nor anyone else can see through”

Lucian paused for a moment and thought about it. He felt bored and some thoughts ran across his mind. “So I imagine it must feel quite odd, listening and only hearing silence”

Laura cracked a small smile. “No, it doesn’t feel odd. It is quite relaxing actually. Listening to thoughts is quite overwhelming. It’s nice to hear nothing for once”. But Lucian then saw her frown. “Though it is quite daunting”

“How?” asked Lucian, eager to keep the conversation going. Laura didn’t seem quite as eager but she replied anyway, “There is a sense of longing in not hearing the thoughts of one of the people you’re closest to. Especially when you can hear everyone else. Imagine hearing the feelings and opinions of everyone around you, but never being able to hear it from one of the people you value the most”

Lucian understood what she meant. And in that moment he felt as though he shouldn’t have asked. He stayed silent and decided just to stare at the floor instead of probing further.

But just then, just as Lucian was about to wonder where Willow and Charlotte had gone. He heard the sound of a click and a clang. And when he looked at the source of the sound, he saw the door knob turn and the door open.

Within moments, Lucian saw Laura eyes widen with shock. Lucian himself staggered onto his feet while still leaning into the wall as though he were trying to avoid a monster. He saw an arm emerge along with the door, a body followed the arm, multiple bodies followed the first body and before he knew it, the adults surrounded him as they obliviously walked onto the hall.

The moment they exited the room Lucian saw all eyes turn to him and Laura. He saw Henry turn his gaze away from his discussion with Mr. Hatly and he felt its weight as it fell on him. He noticed Laura freeze when confronted with her own father. He saw that all the adults had shifted their expression from pleasantly casual to utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asked suddenly after a long and awkward pause. And while his volume was not loud enough to be frightening it still made Lucian shake. “I...uh” he stuttered. But his whimpering did not seem to improve his father’s mood. He saw Henry raise an eyebrow. He saw Mr. Hatly glare at him sternly.

“Nothing!” he then heard Laura say. He watched as all eyes turned to her. Eyes that were equally as confused.

“Nothing? What do you mean nothing?” Carlyle Hatly asked roughly. Laura seemed to be just as nervous as Lucian was. Perhaps she too was trying to block her mind. “What I meant was...” she said but then broke off, as she apparently had no idea what to say next.

“Soldiers,” said a voice echoing through the short hallway. Lucian desperately looked at the entrance of the hallway and saw Willow, Charlotte and Joseph standing there. Willow marched towards them with a cheerful smile on her face. She stood next to the adults and maintained a casual demeanor as she spoke.

“We came here to ask you about the soldiers. Specifically why you brought so many of them”

“Is that a problem?” asked Eustice standing tall next to his daughter. Lucian saw Willow waver, but she didn’t crumble like him or Laura. “Not at all, it’s just…concerning,”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry, dear” said Carlyle. “There is nothing to fret; it’s all just for extra safety,”

“Safety from what, though?” Willow inquired. Eustice then sighed. “You heard Mr. Hatly, Willow. There is no need to worry. And no need to inquire further,” he then turned to Lucian and Laura “And that goes for all of you, understand?”

They all shook their heads in agreement. Both Mr. Hatly and Mr. Morrow seemed to be satisfied. But Lucian saw Henry eyeing him suspiciously, so he put his head down and tried to avoid eye contact. Every second seemed to feel like an eternity. But luckily Mrs. Morning once again broke the sense the tension was slowly creeping into the room.

“Well, now that that’s settled. I feel like indulging in some wine, don’t you?” she said. “Besides, we have some things to discuss with Leonard. Oh wait, is he even awake, dear?” she asked suddenly turning to Laura. Laura took deep breath and calmed herself; the initial shock from the sudden confrontation seemed to leave her. “No, Mrs. Morning. I don’t think so. I didn’t see him downstairs,” she said sternly.

“Well thank you, dear. I suppose he’ll be along later. But in the meantime, I feel like getting a drink. What do you say, gentlemen?”

There was still a sense of uneasiness in the room. But it was clear to Lucian that they had somewhat successfully avoided seeming too suspicious. But Lucian wasn’t sure. “I think that’s a splendid idea,” said Mr. Morrow. A reply that made Lucian sigh quietly in relief. “I personally cannot wait to taste what old Henry has in his stores, right?” he said nudging Henry, who had been quite quiet this whole time, in the shoulder.

“Yes, yes” he said weakly, his mind seemingly preoccupied with suspicious thoughts about his son. “But don’t drink it all…or I’ll make you pay for it!”

All three of the others laughed cheerfully, especially Mr. Morning. “Good, good. So why don’t you all stop pestering the children and let’s have some merriment while we’re all here!”

She then slowly pushed both Eustice and Carlyle by the shoulder until both of them turned away and walked out of the hall. But Henry wasn’t so quick to leave, his gaze still fixated upon Lucian.

“Is there something you need to tell me, son?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Lucian momentarily glanced at the others. He saw both Laura and Willow shake their heads slightly. He returned his gaze back to Henry.

“No…father,” he said with as much confidence as he can muster. Henry glanced at the other children. He seemed to realize that whatever confession he was after, he wasn’t going to get it. So he simply turned away and walked out of the hallway without saying a word. Lucian watched tensely as Henry turned the corner and when he did, he unleashed a breath of relief so relieving that it nearly made him collapse onto the ground.

“Well, thank the Moor that that’s over,” said Willow, who seemed equally relieved.

But Laura didn’t seem to feel the same way. She jerked her head towards Willow maliciously. Willow took a step back. But within a moment Laura lunged at her, her face riddled with fury.

“Why did you DO THAT?” she screamed. She nearly reached Willow with her hands outstretched but luckily, Charlotte grabbed her by the waist and held her back while Willow hid behind Joe.

“Do what?” she whimpered. “Why didn’t you TELL US THAT WE MIGHT GET SEEN?” Laura continued after she stopped struggling to break free from her sister’s arms.

“I didn’t know! I can’t see any future where my father is present, remember? Have some civility!” said Willow still cowering behind Joe, who seemed too out of the loop and sleepy to do anything.

“She’s right!” said Charlotte letting go of Laura once she calmed down. “Besides, why couldn’t see them coming?” Laura turned to her sister, still angry. “I was distracted! And even then I could only hear vague thoughts; they were still in their discussion when they came out!”

“Well there’s no point in being needlessly angry about it now!” said Willow, “They are gone now. And you, thankfully, managed to avoid revealing all our secrets to your father!”

“Well I don’t think they were fully convinced of our innocence. Given Demon’s less-than-subtle performance, if you could even call it that,” said Joe, yawning with his eyes fixed on Lucian. “I wasn’t trying to be obvious. I was just taken by surprise, just like Laura”

“I’d say you couldn’t fool anything other than a worm. I doubt many Demons are astute liars”

Lucian frowned. He raised his finger in order to argue. But before he could, Charlotte spoke up with an intent to break up the arguing.

“Would you all stop this nonsensical bickering? Do I have to remind everyone of what we came here for?”

Everyone went quiet. Lucian put his hand down and Joe seemed to back off as well. Willow and Laura still glared maliciously at each other but neither said anything. Charlotte then approached the door and turned the doorknob. Sure enough, it was locked.

“We need to find a way inside if we intent to get to that letter” she said pulling on the door a few more times. “Do you have a way to get in?”

Lucian shook his head. He saw Joe raise his eyebrow snidely. Lucian did not take kindly to that. He approached the door and attempted to open it. It still wouldn’t budge. He then kept his hand on his chin and pondered while staring at the lock. He could try to force it open by shifting the door. But he knew such an action would be hard to conceal.

“Can’t you force the lock? Make it turn from the inside?” asked Willow. “That tends to be a common trick”

“I tried it once when I was younger,” said Lucian, trying Willow’s suggestion by placing his hand over the lock and attempting to open it through sheer will. “I wanted to see why he always fussed over this room. Unfortunately, he caught me rummaging through his desk. He was not pleased. I am sure he had the lock changed in order to make it harder to do”

He noticed Willow and the Hatly sisters give him amused and sympathetic smiles and gasps while Joe rolled his eyes out of disinterest. He tried to find some other way to open the lock. However, as he thought he heard a sudden voice echo through the hall.

“What are you doing?”

BACK TO CONTENTS- HERE

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betterthanyalls · 6 months

Note

Hello there @betterthanyalls!!!!! First off can I just say that your one-shots and writing skills in general are amazing!!!!! You're a very talented writer my friend, keep it up. 😊👍💞 As for requests, if it's not too much trouble can I request a one-shot of Mugman snitching to Felix and Bendy about Y/N and Cuphead wreaking havoc and causing trouble in the town yet again??? And Felix and Bendy getting pissed off at both of them and ended up scolding/reprimanding them, rightfully so??? And Mugman being the damn goody-two-shoes angel that he is gets a pass and doesn't get scolded of course. Instead, Mugs gets praised and thanked by Felix for putting both Y/N and Cuppyface in their places. I apologize that this is so long and wordy. Feel free to skip over my request if it's just too much. 😅

ofcccc <33

sorry if this isn't perfect!

Words: 771

Published: 10/20/2023

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Late Night Scolding

Y/n and Cuphead quietly climbed back into the castle dormitory that they resided in with the others. It was well past midnight—almost 3:00 AM, to be exact. As they slowly tiptoed into the room, a lamp flicked on. The low light revealed Bendy and Felix with disappointed faces and a nervous Mugman behind them.

The two troublemakers immediately jumped, not expecting anyone to be up right now. Y/n slowly turned to look at the two disappointed toons.

“…Good morning..?” She spoke nervously with an anxious chuckle, unsure of what to do. She glanced at Cuphead to get some help, but all she saw was him glaring daggers at Mugman.

“Y/n. Do you know what time it is?" Felix whisper shouted, hoping not to wake the others. “You could have gotten seriously injured out there, and with Cuphead? You two should never be left alone; you could cause World War III for all we know." Felix rambled.

He always overthought and rambled when it came to Y/n’s safety, which is something she never understood. Why would he care so much about a girl he just met a few days ago?

“Slow down, Felix; I’m just fine. See?” Y/n tried reassuring the worried feline. She looked at Bendy; he was glaring at Cuphead. Cuphead was still glaring at Mugman. Mugman was looking around nervously. None of them were willing to contribute to the conversation.

"It doesn't matter; you still could’ve gotten hurt!” Felix pressed.

“You don’t even know what we were doing.” Y/n counterred.

“I know enough, like how you and Cuphead started bar fights, painted over Stink's house, broke into the training facility, set chickens free, and more.” Felix glared roughly at Y/n.

Cuphead let out a soft chuckle. Felix's attention was drawn to the sentient ceramic.

"Do not think you are out of it, tea cup." Bendy finally joined the conversation with a scowl.

"Teacup?! Okay, then, 'pRiNcE cHaRmInG,' tell me when you had some fun." Cuphead smirked.

"That is the dumbest excuse I have ever heard." Bendy deapanned.

“You’re the dumbest toon I’ve ever heard.” Cuphead clenched his fists tightly.

“That doesn’t even make sense with what we are talking about!” Bendy stood up and got into Cuphead’s face.

Y/n’s looked around the room; a few of the toons were shifting in their makeshift beds. She needed to step in and calm these two down. Y/n felt a lump in her throat; she wasn’t up for confrontation or stopping arguments today.

"Hey guys," Y/n muttered, "you might wake the others up."

But alas, the two arguing toons made no effort to hear their human friend.

Y/n frowned with a wrinkled brow. “Will you two just stop?!” She raised her voice as she put her hands on both their chests and shoved them away from each other. They both stumbled slightly, a little flustered that they got ahead of themselves so much that Y/n had to shove them apart. Secretly, they were mainly focused on Y/n touching their chests.

Y/n quickly quieted down, praying she didn’t wake up the others. “Bendy, Felix, we are sorry for going out and causing havoc. Aren’t we, Cuphead?” Y/n gritted her teeth at him

Cuphead crossed his arms and looked away, biting his inner cheek as he muttered incoherently.

Bendy raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “What was that, dish?”

“I said,” Cuphead began with venom in his tone until he looked at Y/n’s glare. Cuphead let out a defeated sigh. “Sorry.”

“Now that we have that sorted out," Felix began in a happy tone until he became serious. “Go to sleep before I get Ruck in here.”

That threat alone caused both Y/n and Cuphead to run in opposite directions for their beds. Felix merely smirked in satisfaction. Mugman slowly walked back to his bed, tired. Just as Bendy and Felix sat on the ground on their sleeping bags, Donald turned to face Cuphead, Bendy, and Felix.

“You guys really care for her, huh?’ Donald smirked mischievously. That caused Felix to look down bashfully, Bendy to sigh irritatedly and lay down, and Cuphead to start sputtering nonsense, trying to deny Donald's accusation.

Finally, after Cuphead couldn't come up with a response, it was silent. All the toons plus Y/n were sleeping peacefully in their beds. With the balcony doors still wide open, the soft winds of the night blew around them calmly. The moon showed it’s cool gaze through the doorway, peering upon the young prophecies. With one last nightly prayer, the world calmed.

Good night, dear.

#toon quest #x reader #fluff

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojo x reader romance #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #gojo-satoru-x-reader smut #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,” you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #smut #fanfiction #the loki show

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sunsents · 3 years

Text

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight. This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.” he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

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nemeseos-noctua · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could you do hcs for Venti, Xiao, and Albedo (separate) with a s/o that's kind of like an adeptus to Mondstadt? But instead of immortal every time they die they rebirth immediately without any memories, thank you!

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: venti, xiao, albedo (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of death, not proofread

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the way venti's is so short, and then xiao's is mediocre, and then albedo's was the longest in writing. it's not even a bias... it's fate...

honestly, he's grateful. he's grateful that you're technically 'immortal'

each time you pass, he's always ready to find your reincarnation. he's grown skilled at spotting them out!

it doesn't take you to fall in love with him all over again. venti just seems to know all of your likes/dislikes upon the first meeting

venti, however, continues to love all the versions of you. he hasn't forgotten a single one of your identities, but ultimately, he sees you for your soul. outward appearances don't really matter to an immortal like him, it's more so about the way you seem to stick out amongst the crowd

he makes sure to tell you of your condition in each of your lives, of course. each time he meets you, he plays the same tune on his lyre that imprints into your mind

it's a tune that'll help you find him no matter where you are. in this life or the next, though you may not remember, that same tune is so nostalgic. nostalgic about what? a time you don't remember?

it's okay. because though you may not remember it, he sure does

since you're an adeptus to mondstadt, you're given a lot of freedom. it's because of this that you opted to stroll through liyue in each of your reincarnations

and every time, xiao picks you out so easily. his adeptus soul can easily detect others

however, unlike venti, xiao won't try to immediately approach your reincarnation. with the way you look so wondrously at liyue like you had never seen it before, it's obvious that you— in fact— have never seen it before! not in this life, at least

he's a bit. shocked. he was there when you breathed your last breath, so how were you here? why were you here? he's aware that you have underwent a fresh new slate of memories, yet his heart still pangs for a time you don't remember

you run into him accidentally. finding him at the balcony of wangshu inn on a cool summer midnight, just one glance of his figure sends you spiraling with a familiarity you cant even recognize

he notices you instantly, turning around to meet your oh-so comforting gaze. he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to you

"do i... know you?"

"... no."

you don't. you don't know him. it's better for both you and him if you leave now, leave before history repeats and you forget again.

"i see," the way you visibly deflated sent his heart tumbling down, yet he would not let you reenact a time that was long gone. not like this, never.

"... but i would like to get to know you! this may sound weird, but you seem very familiar to me!"

his eyes widened. even though you were in a different mortal body, shrouded with different memories and people, you still found your way back to him

this is the first time in xiao's life that he's ever thanked fate.

unlike the others, albedo is expected to have a relatively-normal lifespan

so in this scenario, let's just say you were dispatched to help assist the traveler with osial and accidentally lost your life!

now, shrouded with grief, albedo is in a very dark point in his life

you were the closest person he's ever grown accustomed to. both you and him were strangers in the land of wind, even though you defended it and he lived in it, there was never truly a place for the two of you

after your passing, albedo found himself more holed up in his studies and alchemy. the traveler had not allowed the alchemist to go see you because they knew it'd amplify his grief

albedo is a bit... perplexed. how come the traveler and paimon weren't grieving? they had witnessed your deaths first hand. maybe they were still stuck in shock

just imagine albedo's surprise when he finds a very-similar image of you just casually strolling the mondstadt streets.

he's. shocked. is this your doppelganger? has he finally lost it? logically, it's possible to have someone look like you... but this person, they had the same voice and quirks—

he will instantly reach out to them, faltering once they turn around and look at him with an expression that's just as confused as he.

ah, that's right. logic is always the winner in a battle of hope and wishfulness. here, the ever-logical albedo allowed false hope to overtake his senses

"i... apologize for my rudeness. you look like someone i knew."

and then you smiled. this man was very pretty, his eyes were as enchanting as the sky and—something else? you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"it's alright. i hope that was a good someone, at least."

"they were."

you stared at him for a few more seconds, tilting your head to the side as albedo's heart pounded so aggressively in his chest, eyes feeling itchy and hot the more he observed this person's features

"do you have stars in your eyes?" you spoke absentmindedly, covering your mouth once you realized you spoke that outloud

"i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to stare!" apologizing profusely, albedo could only force a smile, the constricting feeling in his chest amplifying by tenfold

you had said those exact same things to him. yet unbeknownst to him, you could not remember such words.

well, that's obvious enough. you're long gone, anyways

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #venti x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #genshin venti #genshin xiao #genshin albedo #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #constellarations

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

she ain’t a gold digger ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2417

request?: yes!

“Hi, please write a MGK imagine where the reader joins him on tour and he loses his wallet and when they decide to go out to a club one night, she asks him to get something from her bag and he sees his wallet in there. He accuses her of stealing and they get into a fight and she storms off. One of the guys confesses that they found it in their suitcase by accident and just slipped it in her purse to keep it safe but forgot to tell him and he apologizes profusely to reader and after some persuasion she forgives him”

description: when his wallet goes missing and he finds it in her bag, he lets the tabloids bullshit get to him and causes a fight he regrets

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst

masterlist (one, two)

The hotel room was basically overturned when (Y/N) walked in. Colson was tossing things from his suitcase, frantically searching for something.

“We’ve only been here like five minutes, is it really time to pull a full Motley Crue on this room?” she teased.

“I can’t find my wallet,” Colson said, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“What?”

“It’s not in my suitcase, it’s not in any of my pants - the ones in my suitcase or the ones I’m wearing - it’s not in my carry on or my jacket.”

(Y/N) crossed the room to kneel next to Colson. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. In a more calm manner, she looked through the things Colson had messily thrown about the floor. She helped him to look for the millionth time through everything, coming up empty yet again.

“Okay, don’t panic,” she said. “You had it at the airport because it was with your passport. We can call both this airport and the one we just departed from to see if it’s been turned in. In the meantime, we can lock your cards so no one can use them.”

Colson nodded, but (Y/N) could see the panic in his eyes. She cupped his face and made him look up at her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find it, and if we don’t we’ll replace it the best we can.”

~~~~~~

Despite the stress he was still feeling, Colson decided to join (Y/N) and his friends at the club that night. He was glued to his phone the entire ride there, and once they got to the club (Y/N) took it and shoved it into her purse.

“Relax,” she told him. “We’re here to have a good time.”

“But what if someone calls about my wallet?” he asked.

“Then they’ll leave a message. I highly doubt anyone is calling you at almost midnight, though.” (Y/N) laced her fingers through Colson’s and pressed her body against his. “Please baby? For me?”

Colson sighed but (Y/N) could see the smile on his face. “Fine, but you’re paying for my drinks tonight.”

He had to admit the night out was what he needed. Besides the panic over his wallet, Colson had also basically worked himself to death the past few months. Between recording and filming, and now the tour. He was just grateful that his manager allowed (Y/N) to join them on tour. He’d be out of his mind without her.

(Y/N) pushed through the crowd to where Colson and his friends were and passed Colson his drink. He smiled and pulled her down onto his lap. (Y/N) giggled as Colson pressed a kiss onto her neck.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, do us the curtesy of going to the bathroom,” Rook called over the music.

“Please, I’m more classy than that,” Colson responded. “I’d fuck her in the coat closet like a gentleman.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m gonna go dance. Enjoy your boy talk.”

Colson watched the beautiful curved figure of his girlfriend strut to the dancefloor. He finished his drink in one mouthful and went to follow her.

They danced together for so long that Colson had forgotten all of his worried for a brief period of time. He gazed lovingly into the face of the love of his life as she grinded her hips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sheepishly smiled up at him.

“Wanna get out of here?” she whispered seductively in his ear.

“More than anything,” Colson responded. “I’ll get our things. Meet me at the front doors.”

(Y/N) smiled and winked at him as they went their separate ways. Colson pulled out the coat check tickets to get his jacket and (Y/N)’s purse, and passed it to the girl working there. As he shrugged on his jacket, he got the overwhelming urge to check his phone to see if anyone had called about his wallet.

He promised (Y/N) he’d have a good time, but she didn’t have to know he checked. He would just look and see if there were any missed calls then forget until morning.

However, when he opened (Y/N)’s purse to get her phone, he noticed something on the very top: his wallet.

Why does she have my wallet? he thought. And why wouldn’t she tell me that she had it? She knows how worried I’ve been about it.

He tried not to overthink anything before talking to (Y/N) first. He made his way to the front of the club where (Y/N) was waiting with a joint hanging partially out of her mouth. She looked over at him and smiled as a puff of smoke rolled from her lips.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked. When she noticed Colson’s serious look, her smile fell. “Babe, are you okay? Did something happen?”

He found his words stuck in his throat, so instead of speaking he just held his wallet up.

“Holy shit! Is that your wallet?” Colson nodded, still unable to talk. “Where did you find it?!”

“In your purse.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? How did it get in my purse?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She looked up at him as she took another puff from the joint. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just asking a question. This is your purse after all, the only people who touch it are you and me. Obviously I didn’t put the wallet in there so that leaves one person.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Say it Colson. Fucking say it.”

“Did you take my wallet (Y/N)?”

“No! Of course I didn’t!”

“Then why is it in your purse?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and turned away from Colson. She started to walk away, but he followed her.

“If you took it, I just want to know why,” he said. “I’m not upset, I know there’s likely a good reason for taking it and not telling me.”

“I didn’t fucking take it!” (Y/N) snapped, spinning around to glare at Colson. “I know how this looks, I know it makes no sense, but I fucking swear to you I did not take your fucking wallet. I don’t know how it got in my purse, I don’t know why it’s there, but I did not take your goddamn wallet!”

“Then why the fuck is it in your purse?!”

(Y/N) let out a frustrated groan and buried her head in her hands. “Why can’t you just fucking believe me when I say I didn’t take it? I don’t know how it got in my purse, but I didn’t take it.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, (Y/N). How else would it have gotten there? You’re the only one who even touches your purse, none of the guys have had access to it. You knew when and where I had my wallet last, and now it’s showing up in your bag.”

“If I had taken it, why was I trying to help you find it? Why did I tell you to shut down your cards so no one could use them? Why was I helping you to call the airports and turn over the entire hotel room another two times looking for it? Why would I go to those lengths if I just had it instead of telling you just to replace it all?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N), maybe you were just making sure you could get whatever fucking money you could from me without me realizing.”

(Y/N)’s face fell and her eyes started to well with tears. After being together for a year, she thought he would know her better than that. She thought he wouldn’t believe the bullshit tabloid websites were publishing about her being a gold digger and just dating Colson for the money. She thought he would knew she loved him with her entire heart because of who he was, not because he was a famous rapper.

Apparently she was wrong.

Without another word, (Y/N) turned away from him and walked towards the line up of taxis that were waiting outside of the club. Colson watched her go, his anger starting to subside and be replaced by guilt. But he couldn’t go after her, he wouldn’t. He needed some time to think about all of this, to let her think about it as well. Neither one of them were going to get any answers if they kept fighting and hurting one another.

Colson entered the club again, order two more strong drinks and finding his way back to his boys. They all looked at him with confusion as he sat down where he had been before.

“Dude, I thought you left,” Baze said.

“I thought so, too, until I found my wallet in (Y/N)’s purse,” Colson muttered. “We got into a fight and she left.”

“Why were you fighting about that?” Rook asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Colson waved off the comment, not feeling in the mood to relay the entire fight back to his friends.

“Wait, did I not tell you I put the wallet there?” Slim asked.

Colson nearly choked on one of his drinks. He coughed and turned to look at his friend. “You fucking had it?”

“Yeah man, it somehow got in my carry on,” Slim responded. “I found it when we were waiting for our luggage. I put it in (Y/N)’s purse cause I knew it would be safe there. I could’ve swore I told you that, though.”

“You didn’t,” Colson said. “God fucking dammit, I’m an idiot.”

“What did you say to her, man?” Baze asked.

“I...I insinuated that she...she’s only with me for my money and she stole my wallet so she could get it.”

The guys chorused disapproving noises at the same time.

“Kells, (Y/N) is literally the realest person I’ve ever met,” Rook said. “She ain’t a gold digger, and you definitely shouldn’t think that she is.”

“I don’t,” Colson sighed. “I was just pissed. God, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Bro,” Slim said, leaning forward to look at Colson, “go after your woman and apologize.”

Colson nodded and quickly stood from his seat. The cab ride back to the hotel felt incredibly slow. Of course, he had left his phone in (Y/N)’s purse so he couldn’t even call or text her. There was no guarantee that she was even at the hotel, and that thought had Colson’s anxiety so much higher.

He desperately searched his pockets for the hotel key as he approached the room. When he couldn’t find it, he realized it was likely he had left that in (Y/N)’s purse, too. He sighed and began knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice soft. “Baby, can you let me in? I think my key is in your purse.” When there was no movement, he added, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should’ve listened to you. Slim admitted to putting my wallet in your bag, turns out he had it all along. I...I should never have thought it was you. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Can...can you let me in, please?”

There was silence. Not even signs of movement. Colson’s heart began to race as he realized the likeliness that (Y/N) had left. He had no idea where she could’ve gone, and now he didn’t even have any way of reaching her.

The door suddenly opened and (Y/N)’s tearstained face looked up at him. She didn’t say anything as she turned away and walked back into the hotel room. Colson followed in silence, unsure of what else to say. He just wanted to hold her and apologize forever, to do anything and everything she wanted to make things better.

(Y/N) got back into bed and laid with her back to Colson. He stood there in the dark, just looking at her.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You called me a gold digger,” (Y/N) responded, her voice equally as small. “After almost a year together, you called me a fucking gold digger.”

“I know - ”

“We’ve talked about how much those tabloid stories get to me, how upset they make me, and you really had the audacity to bring that up and not believe me when I said that I didn’t take your wallet.”

The fact that her voice wasn’t angry, but rather sad, made everything so much worse. Colson winced at her words, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“I know,” he repeated. “I don’t know why I said any of that. I didn’t mean it, I know you love me. I just...I have no excuses. I am a total fucking idiot and you have every right to be angry with me. I know I’m sorry won’t cut it, but for now that’s all I can say. I really am sorry.”

There was another prolonged silence. (Y/N) didn’t even move from her place on the bed. Colson had accepted the fact that she probably hated him and was preparing to go stay with one of the guys for the night, when he heard the bed shift and (Y/N)’s soft voice ask, “Did the guys give you shit?”

Colson smiled to himself. “Yeah, they did. They called me an idiot.”

“You are one.”

“I know.”

Through the darkness of the room, Colson could see (Y/N) lift the blankets and gesture for him to join her. He quickly kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket somewhere on the floor. The minute his body connected with hers, he felt relief wash over him. He hugged her tightly, never wanting to let her go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head and repeating the sentiment over and over.

“And I love you, as in you - Colson Baker. Not Machine Gun Kelly, not the man with the money. I love the real you.”

“I know you do. I promise I’ll never doubt that again baby.”

(Y/N) relaxed into Colson’s arms, still a bit hurt from what he had said but happy to have him there with her. Finally, after some time, the two drifted off to sleep.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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maijobi · 3 years

Text

back to you

dabi x reader

summary: when things don’t go well in your relationship, you find it best to end it...

a/n: it has a good ending I promise. I did kinda hurt myself writing this I don't even know why. but sad dabi really does make me feel things.

———————————————————————

your hands were in your hair, doing your best to not pull every strand out of your scalp. your eyes were closed and you were doing your best to calm yourself down, counting down from ten.

“dabi, we have had this conversation for over a hundred times. you can’t control me. and why can’t you just trust me for once?”, you said, finally opening your eyes and looking at dabi.

“fine”, he said clenching his jaw. “go. let all of those people see you. go. you know what, don’t come back tonight will you?”

“stop overreacting”, you said, breathing out heavily. “I'm sick and tired of you constantly telling me what to do. I'm your partner, not your child. I know my limits and I know what to look out for. and who are you to tell me to not come back tonight? this isn’t just your place. we live here with a bunch of losers, what makes you think you’re more special than them? what makes you think you overpower them? what makes you think you have more to say than us?”

he took a few steps closer to you and looked down at you with a wrinkled nose. “I just don’t like my partner going out where there are people that will look at them. I don’t like how you can’t keep your mouth shut around people and let them flirt with you. I can’t stand you going to places and not knowing your limit, when you claim you do.”

“just because I let people talk to me, doesn’t mean I'm letting them flirt with me?”, you confusedly said. “oh I apologize dabi. I apologize that I do not prefer to burn people to the ground when they give you a genuine smile. I apologize that I couldn’t become as great as you”, you sarcastically said while throwing your hands in the air and then dropping them. “do you hear how stupid you sound? we have this discussion almost every day, but I can’t seem to get some senses into you. I'm tired of this, dabi. I'm tired of having to explain myself every day when I know I'm not doing anything wrong. I can’t talk to anyone before I have you breathing against my neck telling me to stay away from that person.”

“sweetheart, dollface, sugar”, he said with gritted teeth, taking steps closer to you and holding on of your hand and placing it over his heart. “don’t make this harder for the both of us and just don’t go outside will you?”

you pulled your arm away from his grip. “not this time dabi. I'm sick of this. sick of you wanting to control everything I do. you wanting to have a dominant role in this relationship. why is that even needed? why can’t you treat me as an equal? can’t you for once just let me live? I'm tired, I'm tired of telling myself that you’ll change when you don’t”, you said, finally showing the frustration on your face.

“and you think I'm having fun?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “you think I enjoy seeing you having fun with someone else? it hurts you just as much as it does me doll”, he said, raising his voice. “it’s also hard for me to see you flirting back with other people! know your fucking limits”, he said placing his hand on your chin and pulling it up slightly.

“don’t act like you are right here”, you sat, pulling your chin away from his grip and taking a step back. “for once. for fucking once accept that you can’t control everything I do and that you can’t overpower me. respect goes both ways, but I'm not seeing any on your accord.”

“now you’re just talking bullshit”, he said in a loud voice, laughing to shake off his frustration. “what does this even mean?! what is it that you’re trying to accomplish here? what is it that you so desperately want, huh? attention from someone else? if you’re not even gonna listen to my feelings, how am I supposed to take yours in account? you only do as you please and where does that bring us, huh?! where the fuck-!”

“that maybe perhaps we’re not meant for each other”, you interrupted him. “that maybe we’re just not fit for each other.”

his face dropped and you saw every emotion pass on his face. he was confused. he was confused as to the words you had just dared to speak, something he didn’t even think about once. to him this was normal, to him this was behavior that should be present in a relationship. to him, fighting everyday seemed normal. but his motives for this relationship seemed to be totally different from yours.

“you must be kidding no”, you said with a distressed smile. “h-how can you just easily say something like that?”

“because you made sure I did. if you just for once tried to understand me, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.”

he walked closer to you and held your shouders. “you’re kidding right?”

“i’m not, dabi. I'm being very much serious right now. how can I continue this when my feelings are being invalidated on a daily basis? how am I supposed to respect you further when you literally treat me like your pet?”, you said a brushing off his grip on your shoulder. “I can’t do this when all of this only brings me anxiety and constant stress?”

he looked at you, lost in another world progressing what you had just said. it surely couldn’t have been true, you were joking right? but the expression on your face made him his eyes go larger and his mouth almost hung open. “y-you can’t be serious”, he said with a smile, but that soon dropped when he shook your head.

“i’m not”, you said turning around and walking to the door.

you didn’t turn around to look back at him, and he made no attempt to stop you. perhaps he hadn’t even believe that you actually left. or maybe he was just waiting for you to finally leave him. maybe this was for the better you thought, but for dabi this was a whole different experience.

he was convinced you were coming back that night, he convinced himself that you would. so when you didn’t he totally lost it. the person that barely texted you had spammed you with messages and missed calls, leaving behind various emotions. he didn't know what he was feeling. this was all new to him.

dollface, you’re not serious right?

you’re coming back tonight right?

I'm sure you are...

you didn’t take me seriously, did you?

please come back.

please look at your messages.

it’s past midnight, please come back.

don’t scare me like this. just come back already.

please...

you looked at your phone, tapping the corners or your phone. you decided to not answer, but that left you in a weird state of mind. you didn’t know what you were feeling. were you happy? sad? relieved? more stressed? you didn’t even know. you felt numb.

you found your way to an old friend, asking if you could stay over until you figured out what you would do to survive. you locked your phone and threw it next to you on the bed. you allowed yourself to fall with your back on the mattress. you’d feel better in the morning, is what you tried to convince yourself. but would you really?

you woke up with a heavy headache. it was hard to even sit upright. but when you opened your eyes it was still dark. there was heavy rain outside and falling back asleep seemed like an impossible thing right now.

you tapped on your phone letting it light up.

3 a.m.

you sighed. what were you gonna do now? you felt too stressed to even close an eye. you didn’t know what you were supposed to do. you loved him and he probably loved you too, but this couldn’t go on forever.

you looked at your screen again, not missing all the messages he had left behind.

please I know I fucked up, but please just come back.

you can’t be doing this.

and many more messages like that had filled your phone. you frustratingly brushed your hand through your hair and sighed loudly. it felt wrong. it felt wrong to have left like that in the middle of an argument. but at the same time this had happened so many times that you couldn’t just do nothing.

you rose from your bed, still not answering any of his messages. your phone rung every five minutes, but you just didn’t pick it up. you walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water only to leave it on the counter after seeing his new messages.

I really need you.

I don’t need anybody else.

just you. so please, please come back.

you blinked once, then twice and then many more times. dabi had really said he needed you. the independent guy, who would refuse help from anyone had said he needed you. you weren’t sure what to do. you paced around the kitchen, biting down on your nail. your phone made a sound again.

I just really... can’t live without you.

you sighed loudly and with a quick steps you walked to the door. you put on your shoes and ran out the door taking the keys with you. the rain splashed on your skin, clothes and hair, making you soaked in an instant as you ran down the street. but you didn’t care. the only thing that ran through your head was wanting to see dabi. wanting to see him share his feelings and wanting to see him need you.

even the bad memories had a good ending for you. every time you fought, you’d fix it together. so why couldn’t that be done now? why did you have to act so selfishly again? you knew you were partially right, but at the same time you knew this wasn’t right. all your memories with him flooded in your mind and it made you run faster.

your feet dragged you to the place you had thought he was, because you knew he wouldn’t be at the residence. he would be at the place that caused his trauma, but at the same time was his most visited place.

the forest were he had supposedly died. the forest where his dad had refused to come to. the forest with his last memories of home.

you stopped in track when you saw his figure. his back facing you and his head looking up. he was wearing a front zip hoodie with the cap over his head. allowing the droplets to hit his face. he had heard something so he turned around.

when he saw you standing there in the rain he took one step and reached out his hand, but stopped when you only stared at him. you were out of breath, breathing in and out heavily as your chest heaved.

you looked at him, seeing the sad expression on his face. you shook your head and started walking, but before you knew it you were running to him. you ran and when you reached him, you threw yourself on him, holding him like you never did before.

he was in shock, not being able to do anything, just allowing you to slowly pull him down for the hug. when you pulled away you held his face and searched it, but before he could say anything you crashed your lips against his, tasting the rain on them. it was still pouring and this might have been the closest thing to an actual romantic scene the two of you had.

your lips danced together and you melt in each others touch. he finally allowed himself to be embraced and snaked his arms around your back to deepen the kiss. he pushed you against him and moved his hands to your neck to pull you closer. your hands slid down and rested on his chest.

when he pulled away he looked you in your eyes. water droplets were falling on your face and he made an attempt to wipe them away though the rain hadn't stopped. you wanted to say something, but he shut you up by pulling you in once more and giving you a small, but soft kiss.

“i’m sorry”, he said, pulling you flush against him to hug you. “I'm sorry for always wanting to control you. I was just scared.”

you slid your arm around his waist and hugged him back. “scared of what?”

“of you leaving”, he whispered just loud enough to hear above the splashing raindrops. “I haven’t been open about my feelings. I just didn’t know how to. but I was raised with the thought of rejection and people leaving me behind. I wasn’t used to all of this. I wasn’t used to having all this affection, so I was scared you’d leave just like the rest.”

you tightened your grip on him. “I don’t have a reason to leave. I just need you to be open with me like just now. so we can work things out together”, you said, looking up so that you were facing him.

he looked down and a soft smile formed on his face. he kissed you again and again and again until completely devouring your lips on his, not giving you a chance to pull away. but that wasn’t needed. you had understood the whole situation and the both of you were able to figure it out together. many ways had opened for the two of you and the both of you have yet to learn so much about each other. but you were both willing to change yourself for each other. because even if things weren't always great, the two of you would find their ways back to each other.

#dabi #dabi mha #dabi bnha #dabi drabble #dabi angst #dabi fluff #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n

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duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

at last.

a/n: in celebration of reaching 200 followers. thank you. i’ve started this piece months ago but constantly failed to find the will to continue whenever i opened the draft. however, the response i’ve received from my other works gave me the drive and i knew i had to finish this.

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

pairing: musician!semi x f!reader

warnings: mirror sex, soft dom

summary: you and semi are in a band together. though having feelings for the male, you’ve always kept it professional until one night...

“thank you for tonight! you guys were amazing!” you speak through the mic enthusiastically, waving to the crowd as they cheered on and begging for an encore at the same time. “we hope to see your faces again when we come out with new songs soon! please continue to support us! we love you!” your lips curl into a huge smile, stepping off to the back of the stage while waving your fans goodbye before the staff hands you a towel to wipe off your sweat and a mineral bottle to cool off.

it’s another amazing night in a different city for you and the band. the feeling of having people enjoying your music and your voice is overwhelming and to have such wonderful bandmates to join you in this journey for three years now has you feeling beyond blessed.

the band started small, having the drummer and bassist as your high school besties while the guitarist, semi eita was later picked up along the way when one day you blasted on your socials and the small music stores stating the band needed a new guitar player. your band was pretty well-known in the town you live in, showing up and performing at a few gigs and now you’re much more familiar in the industry and often play in different cities.

semi was one of the few candidates that was chosen to be part of the band. much to everyone’s surprise, playing the guitar wasn’t his only talent. semi was able to write lyrics, produce and sing and that’s what made him stand out among the others. while making the decision with your band mates, you guys knew not to pass up on him and today it proved to be the right decision you guys had made.

to describe semi eita, he’s incredible. a genius and a sight for sore eyes. hell, he could even pass to be a model if he was into it. you knew that his addition to the band could garner more fans through his skills and looks. on his first night at the gig as the guitarist, you noticed how some of the girls there were ogling him and especially recording him through their phones, even the older woman who was practically forced to be there almost every night by her husband paid more attention (and you believed it was because of semi’s presence) as your band performed. maybe the fangirls could start off by drooling over his looks before they could slowly support the band entirely, hence building a bigger fanbase.

you feel a little bad for him. you believe that semi is more than just his looks but you can’t really blame people for liking pretty things– it’s only natural. semi has a burning passion for music and what he does and he works tirelessly for the band. he gives his all when he writes lyrics and he uses most of his time by himself inside the studio, learning and enhancing his skills further. you often accompany him in the studio, offering your opinions when he shares the new lyrics he came up with and the studio would be filled with harmonizing voices of yours and his.

a weird fuzzy feeling engulfs you when you learn that semi had always especially asked for you to join him in the studio and never the other guys, but you alway shrug it off; reminding yourself that it’s only because of work and nothing else.

though no matter how much you try to deny your feelings, you know you’re already head over heels for semi eita.

you sigh and put down your luggage as soon as you walk into your hotel room before looking out at the window to see the fans that were swarming as you arrived earlier begins to dissipate slowly. as you’re smiling and being lost in your thoughts, you start to hear strumming sounds from the other side of the room– undoubtedly semi’s.

it’s way past midnight and you’re all tired from the tour and the recent performance. while all you can think about is getting inside the tub and having a good night sleep, semi on the other hand can only think about the next show and creating new music. though he’s much more new to the industry compared to you, he works so diligently and it makes you feel a bit guilty and shameful. so you decide to come up to his room and see if he needs anything– or maybe just to persuade him to stop thinking about work and go to sleep.

“eita, it’s me.” you say as you knock on his door. you hear the strums come to a halt before he opens the door for you. “gosh, you look terrible.”

it’s only partly true. his hair is disheveled and he only has his jeans on from earlier but you try so hard not to check him out and quickly walk inside his room. semi closes the door as he turns to you, “you’re not asleep yet?”

“no, i heard you were playing and that’s why i’m here. you know you should be sleeping instead, right?” you sit on the couch where he was sitting earlier. sheets of paper are spread on the coffee table and you pick up the one with the lyrics that he wrote.

“sorry,” he apologizes as he sits next to you and notices the one that you’re reading. “but it’s good that you’re here too.”

ignoring the little skip your heart made, you refuse to look at him and read one of the lines out loud in an attempt to play cool.

“i’m alone,

“i just wrote that one in the van earlier.” he scratches the back of his neck as he laughs nervously. his eyes never tearing from you, just watching while you scrutinize through his little work.

i’ve nowhere to go,

but you gently held my hand.”

you smile as you finish reading the last line of his incomplete lyrics and turn to look at him, “i wonder what it sounds like?”

“ah, i haven’t figured it out much but i think it could go like this.” he grabs the guitar from where he left earlier and places it in front of his chest before slowly strumming a few chords. you watch as his fingers sweep up and down across the strings, his black nails that you painted weeks ago are only left with little residues.

it sounds exactly like you heard in your room earlier. his voice and the tunes he’s making fills the room and it sounds absolutely beautiful. you can sense the longingness in his work this time around, a little different from what he used to play but a little change doesn’t really mean bad– it feels like something that many people can relate to.

you gleefully clap your hands as he stops playing and a faint blush creeps up to his cheeks which he hopes you don’t notice.

“what’s your inspiration this time?” you ask as he puts back down the instrument.

“well…” semi sighs and leans further into the couch. “someone special to me– the reason i started pursuing this.”

a heavy lump suddenly forms in your throat, making your stomach churn at the thought of semi having someone special in mind but you quickly shake off the feeling. you’ve always been close with the male, he was easy to get along with from the start and semi would agree that out of all the members, he spent the most time with you; though it's only because it’s strictly on a work basis and you respect that, and you remain professional.

“must be. you’ve never written anything so personal but tell me all about it! you know i won’t judge.” you force a smile, hoping that it’s not too obvious and instead semi laughs at your eagerness to know about his little puppy love.

“it’s not even that great. i feel like it’s rather ironic– the reason i pursue this is also the reason we can’t be together.” he looks at you as he speaks, as if searching for something.

“damn, that sucks so bad.” you lean back to the couch with him and gaze at the ceiling while imagining the type of person semi would like and start to mindlessly compare yourself to them– putting you down even further.

“you get it, right? on top of that, i think we would lose some fans if we start to date.” he continues as he rests his arm behind your head in a more relaxing manner. he hopes that he emphasized the word clearly so he could get a reaction from you.

however, you only laugh a bit at his consideration. you can already imagine the online articles being bombarded about semi being in a relationship, not forgetting the snarky remarks and lashes he and his partner might get on stan twitter and the thought makes you shudder.

“but i would want to see you happy... even if it’s not with me.” you mumble lowly before realizing what you just blurt out on the last part. “i mean- i mean- i was thinking from a fan’s point of view, of course!”

the sight of you being bashful and constantly avoiding to make eye contact with him is endearing to him. he can’t help but to laugh and it provokes him to tease you instead. his hand creeps up to pull and tuck away the strands of hair behind your ear, instantly drawing your attention to the male next to you. you’re waiting for him to speak but he only stares quietly at you with a gentle smile across his face.

“what?” you’re surprised at how meek you sound and you know he notices it when his smile turns into an amused shit-eating grin.

“really? you’d be happy for me?” he asks, leaning his head down on the arm he has hanging on the couch back.

“um, yeah? since you’re my–”

“friend?” he cuts you off in an instant. “i’d be happier to at least know that you’d feel jealous, though.”

jealous? you blink and nervously laugh at the poor joke, “why would i be– you’re funny. anyways, go to sleep!”

semi’s lips tug into a frown as you stand up from the couch and when you’re about to take a step away, semi grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. he wraps his arms securely around you and buries his face at the nape of your neck, inhaling the very faint scent from your expensive perfume you had on before the show.

“you’re so close, yet so far.” his hot breath fans against your skin as he murmurs with a hint of frustration lacing his voice.

thinking not too deeply into it, you disregard the butterflies in your stomach, “yeah, i think you can put that in the song.” you attempt to reply coyly, concealing any suggestions of you being a total nerve-wreck right now.

“god dammit.” semi curses. he turns your face to look at his, “this isn’t about work anymore.”

“what–” he presses his lips on yours and his arms pull you closer to him which your body wastes no time but to completely melt into.

semi pulls away to take a breath, locking his brown eyes with yours as he speaks. “stop making me feel so lonely.”

“i’m… sorry…?” your apology comes out unsurely, not knowing where this conversation is leading up to and it’s making you feel apprehensive more than anything. there’s no way he’s confessing, right?

semi sighs as he runs his fingers through your hair, “i used to only play the guitar as a hobby but you’re the reason why i even thought about getting into this band.”

you’re out of words to speak from the abruptness and remain quiet before he continues, “i thought i’d be happy enough just being close to you but i realized i wanted more than that. am i being selfish?”

you break free from his grasps and turn to the blushing male before curling into his chest. semi’s body is still as he processes what’s happening and slowly relaxes as he wraps his arms around you again.

“no, eita, no. you’re not.” you reassure. “i really had no idea.”

“then, can i kiss you again?”

“whatever you want, eita.” you mutter under your breath before he gently cups your chin with his fingers and pulls you into a deep kiss.

for the second time that night, you feel as if you’re on cloud nine as your wet tongues twirl against each other in your mouths. a faint taste of tobacco and beer still lingers on his tongue but you pay no mind to it when you’re too busy drowning into your own ecstasy.

semi manages to push you down on your back without breaking the kiss and props on his knees before his hands wander all around your body. a gasp passes your lips when he squeezes your breasts against your shirt and his lips move down to nip on your neck.

“e-eita...” you breathe and the male pulls away to look at you with heavy lidded eyes– and they’re filled with desire.

“whatever i want, right?” he whispers and you nod your head before he delves back down to litter bruises on your skin. “and what i want is you.”

warmth surfaces on your cheeks as you hum in response, a subtle reply to tell him that the feeling is mutual. as soon as semi lifts up your shirt, he quickly tips down to tug your bra and latches his mouth on your hardened nipple while his fingers tweak the other. the stimulation causes your body to jolt in pleasure and you can practically feel yourself drenching in your panties.

semi glances up at you expectantly when he notices your thighs are pressed together underneath him. with his other free hand, he lifts up your denim skirt and rubs circles on your clit against the damped fabric.

you mewl and tug his hair gently as your hips desperately grind against his finger for relief.

“does it feel good?” he speaks softly. “you’re so wet for me.”

“y-yeah.” you mumble a little bit in embarrassment after he pointed it out but semi finds it to be endearing as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“i’ll make you feel even better,” he grins, bending your knees up and spreading them apart. “but i need to hear it.”

you nibble your lip anxiously, “please?”

“please what?” he coos, though he’s already settling his head down between your thighs while he looks at you with passion filled eyes.

your lips feign a pout but your pussy twitches when you feel his finger pulls your panties to the side, “please make me feel better.”

“good enough.” he smirks before spreading your puffy folds and sticks out his tongue to lap off your essence.

a loud moan rips from your throat as he sucks on your clit and purposely teases it with quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. your legs start to tremble and try to close together but to no avail since semi holds them apart from crushing his head.

there were nights where he could only touch himself while imagining how you would sound like writhing underneath him but tonight, you made his dreams turn into reality. your moans and whines are like music to his ears and they’re better (and he knows it would be) than what he expected. now semi is driven even more to hear what more beautiful sounds you can produce for him.

semi groans when he slips one finger inside your tight hole and you cry in surprise as you feel his finger brushing in and out through your walls. he can feel that the walls are already sucking him greedily while your hips jerk to fuck yourself with his finger.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he grunts, inserting another finger and fucks you ruthlessly. you can feel your orgasm building and threatening to tip over when his finger curls, hitting your g with every drag.

“fuck, eita–” you pant as your toes curl over the unbearable stimulation and causes your body to shake.

“feels great, hm? i want you to cum all over my fingers.” he toys with the swollen bud before harshly sucking it.

“mmhh– gonna cum!” your eyes screw shut as your orgasm finally crashes down and your pussy gushes and flutters around his fingers.

your breathing turns erratic and a whine escapes your lips from the emptiness when semi pulls out to lick his fingers.

“you taste so fucking good.” he groans, hovering above you and crashes his lips onto yours so you can taste your own juices from his tongue before he pulls away breathlessly.

“i want to make you feel good too, eita.” you whisper almost innocently and push him back so he can sit down on the couch. semi watches you as you kneel beside him to unbuckle his belt and proceed to unbutton and unzip his jeans swiftly before he helps you release his throbbing dick from its confinements.

you nearly gawk at the size of his cock; thick and veiny, tip flushing red with a bead of precum. you give a few strokes with your hand and a sharp hiss rolls off his tongue as soon as he feels your tongue swirling around the slit and slowly taking a fair amount inside your mouth.

“fuuuuck.” he sighs as he sinks into his seat further, eyes closed shut as he lets you take over. you offer the pressure needed by pressing the bottom of the length with your hand and hollowing your cheeks while your tongue runs up and down the rest of his cock, slobbering it with your saliva.

“oh, fuck– baby. that feels so fucking good.” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes when you force yourself to take deeper into your mouth and his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat. semi’s hand finds itself on top of your head; he makes sure not to tug your hair too hard as he guides you bottom to top and a pop sound is audible when he pulls you away just before he feels like he’s about to cum.

he wipes the tears from your eyes and kisses you while pulling his jeans and boxers all the way down before continuing to carry you off from the couch with him and leads you to his bed.

“can i?” he looks at you concerningly and you nod your head yes.

“take it all off.” he commands once he puts you down on the bed. what seemed to be the gentle semi is long gone but his dominating side makes you undeniably excited so you easily oblige, peeling off your clothes until you’re bare and naked in front of him.

“on your knees.” he orders again and you submissively get on your knees but he stops you before you can lean down on the bed. “face the mirror.”

you turn your head to see the large mirror in front of the bed and shift again as he climbs on the bed and props behind you.

“i want us both to see how pretty you look when i’m balls deep inside you.” he grins.

a soft mewl rolls off your tongue when semi smears your juices through your slits with his cock. he grabs your hips for leverage as he slowly penetrates into your hole and you bite your lip hard when you can feel his girth stretches you out both painfully and deliciously. semi gives you a moment to adjust and after receiving the green light does he begin to move his hips.

“i’ve waited so long for this.” he growls, black nails digging deeper into your skin that'll be able to leave crescent marks by the end of the session as he pounds his cock into your cunt erratically.

your cheek is pressed down and your hands clutch the bed sheet as you feel his veins brushing against your walls and his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. semi’s breathing is already ragged from above you, hips diligently rolling into you as he picks up the pace.

“look at you, baby– fuck– i’m so lucky.” you moan at the praise, subconsciously feeding to your ego; to be desired by semi and to have semi fucking you into oblivion.

“s-so good.” you whine, glancing up to the mirror to see yourself but what you’re mostly able to see is the man behind you. his toned abs, ash blonde bangs almost covering his eyes and brows furrowed in focus as he ruts into you mercilessly like a feral beast and it’s fueling your arousal even further.

a mischievous smile etches on his lips as his hazy eyes light up once they meet yours through the reflection, “i don’t think you can see yourself that well.”

you feel your body being lifted up abruptly before he makes you stand on your knees with your back against his broad chest. in front of you, you can clearly see the mess he has made out of you; hair unkempt, pussy slopping and dripping down his balls and the sheets from where your bodies are connected.

“better.” he smirks through the mirror. both of your eyes fixed on the reflected image ahead; your tits bouncing up and down as he continues to thrust into you while his arm wraps around your torso to hold you in place.

“so– pretty. my baby– my muse.” he says in between grunts and takes one hand to cup your face. “can you see my cock go in and out of you?” semi intends to show you how lewd it looks by pulling out his thick cock slowly and pushing back inside your pussy in an agonizing pace.

“yes, fuck– eita.” you sob, staring at the mirror ahead as you see his cock glistens with slick when he pulls out from your stretched cunt and fills you back in, edging you at the same time.

“and what happens when i touch you here?” he coos, reaching down to press your clit with his thumb. a shock of pleasure washes through your body, making your eyes roll back and your head thrown back to his shoulder. “come on, you can tell me.”

“it’s-it’s gonna make m-me cum.” you whimper as your hips roll desperately against his finger and each time he plunges into you.

“and you’re gonna sing my name when you do, right?”

“yesyesyes– please, just–” semi cuts you off by continuing his pace again and the knot in your stomach tightens at the feeling of being stuffed full when he rams deep inside you along with his ministrations on your throbbing bud.

his other hand pinches your pebbled nipple and causes you to keen in pleasure and you finally open your eyes to look at the mirror again to see the compromising position you’re in and the way he manhandles you; having absolute control all over your squirming body with both his hands and his cock– and it got your vision turning white as you tip over the edge.

“eita!” your lips part into a scream as your pussy flutters around his cock and come undone. the walls squeezing him elicits a low growl from his throat and he holds your body with both his arms as he remains to fuck you in order to chase after his own high.

“fuck– that’s it.” he kisses your head when you let out a choke from the overstimulation. “i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy.” sporadic thrusts begin to stutter as his balls tighten and his cock twitches inside you to indicate that he’s close to reaching his orgasm and a loud moan rips from his throat as he finally comes undone.

semi stills for a few moments inside you, catching his breath and regaining composure before he lifts your body slightly to pull out his softening cock. your trembling knees fail to keep you up so your body falls down on the mattress and semi chuckles at the sight as he joins next to you.

“you did so good for me, love.” his sharp, brown eyes gazes adoringly into yours and a soft smile tugs the corner of his lips as he caresses your hair. “was i too rough?”

“just a little,” you blush. “but i liked it.”

semi sighs in relief and draws closer to give a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i’ll run a warm bath for you, alright? then we can go to sleep.”

you nod your head, feeling warm and fuzzy when he holds you in his strong arms before he leaves for the bathroom. as you wait and hear water filling the tub, your mind wanders how you’re going to break the news to your manager about your blossoming relationship with semi.

and semi thinks about the same thing too.

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to him.

as long as he has you.

#semi eita #eita semi #semi #semi x you #semi x reader #semi x y/n #haikyuu smut #semi eita smut #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #hq!! smut #r; writes #semi smut #semi fluff #semi fanfic #semi eita fanfic #semi ff #haikyuu semi #haikyuu fanfic

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here!

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: This is the last part to The miscommunication series, I hope you guys enjoy it ;) Also peep the last link to ‘Zine’ and stay tuned

This is weird.

You look up from your textbook at the scrawny boy across from you. The circles under his eyes look especially dark as the blue light from his tablet shines on his face.

Yeah, this situation is super weird.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but you’ve been avoiding Dick a little bit lately.

You’re still pleasant to him in class, and you see him at the study group sessions, but you don’t try to make the effort to see him in situations where it’s just the two of you.

You’re just not ready to see him with all these feelings brewing inside you.

So the last thing you wanted was to run into his little brother, especially when you purposefully went to another coffee shop across town just so you wouldn’t run into Dick.

Still, you’re surprised Tim chose to sit with you after ordering 4 shots of espresso over ice.

“The ice makes it cold so you can’t taste how bitter it is” he had told you when you looked at his drink with a skeptical expression.

Well, it’s not a problem, you think taking a sip of your chai tea. Tim seems like a quiet person, he’s only said a handful of words to you so far, he probably won’t even bring up -

“So are you and Dick fighting?” Tim asks without looking up and you choke on your tea.

“So you are fighting” he hums as his gaze trails from his tablet to you. He figured Dick was being paranoid, honestly, even Tim thought following you to the coffee shop and pretending that he just ran into you was overkill.

Man, he figured you were just in the middle of some misunderstanding. He’s usually right about these things. Tim’s not going to lie, it stings to know Dick was on the nose about this one.

“It’s not that we’re fighting,” because you both really aren’t, there’s only going to be a fight if he finds out how you feel and how uncomfortable your new feelings make him considering he already has someone he loves.

“I just don’t want to get between him-“

“And Nightwing?” Tim supplies for you and your eyes widen.

“You know?” Tim nods in response.

You think Tim is saying he knows his brother and Nightwing are dating.

Tim thinks that you found out Dick got reprimanded a few weeks ago because he was spotted chatting with you on your balcony. He was able to play it off as just a normal chat but he would be risking exposing you to every villain in Gotham if they ever found out your were someone important to him.

“Maybe you are-“ Tim hums. You feel like a lightning bolt has struck your spine. So Dick does know about your feelings - or at least suspects something.

“But that’s not exactly a bad thing” Tim finishes, and you raise an eyebrow. You wait for an explanation but Tim’s already turned back to his tablet, typing away.

You look at the city, buildings springing up like trees from the concrete, their jagged edges like the crooks of a mountain. Nothing’s really changed. Not the buildings, or the skyline, not the stars in the inky black void of outer space. Not the city that never seems to sleep, the idle chatter of cars and civilians always whirring in the distance.

The only thing that has seemed to change, is you.

“That smells good, is it green tea?”

Well, one other thing has changed. You find a smile twitching onto your mouth as you hand Nightwing the mug in your hands. He’s perched on the ledge of your balcony, legs swing against the bars.

You get anxious just watching him.

“I had a feeling you’d stop by, it’s cherry blossom green tea, I think you’ll like it.” It’s a naturally sweet tea, so he should find it suits his taste considering he seems to share the same disposition for sweet things as his boyfriend.

You know that encounter with Tim this morning was weird, but the fact that you’ve kind of become late-night tea and chat buddies with your love rival is even weirder.

Looks like you can’t even make friends in a normal way.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grins taking a sip of the hot beverage with a satisfied smile. The hum he lets out afterward sends shivers down your spine. Geez, no wonders Dick has it so bad for him.

You wonder what kind of noises he makes when they’re together-

Nope. Nope. No. Nope. No.

That was too far, your imagination really needs to get a grip.

“So how are things with you and that guy you love?” You flinch at the mention, choosing to take an unusually long sip of tea right then.

“That good huh?” Nightwing snorts, and you sigh. You’re not going to tell him about the cryptic conversation you had with Tim, especially considering the fact that he doesn’t seem to support their relationship.

Dick feels a little frustrated, as he watches you avoid his eyes. The whole thing seems off like there’s something missing. So you don’t want to be seen with Dick Grayson, but you don’t mind midnight tea talk with Nightwing- and you tell Tim how you don’t want to get in between him and his superhero persona- and then you wave him over when you see he’s a rooftop over-

It just doesn’t make any sense.

And worst of all-you look so pretty standing there, even with that sad look on your face.

“Well you know what they say-“ you let out a dry laugh, “to get over someone, you have to get under someone else”

It’s just a joke - a bad joke, you’re helping it’ll ease the tension. You figure Nightwing will make a dumb joke or pun back, and this whole thing can be behind you when he says-

“Get under me then” you’re so taken aback but what he’s said you’re sure he must have heard wrong. But when you look away from the green tea in your mug to his face, that chiseled face is only a few inches away from your own.

Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing so close to you, his lips are pressed over your own. His gloved fingers ghosting over your cheek, holding it so tenderly that the action sends shivers down your spine.

Dick pulls away, fingers retreating to his domino mask, he doesn’t want to confess to you as Nightwing he wants to do it as Dick-

When you slap him.

This has seriously been the worst day. Dick sighs as he turns the water faucet to his shower off, grabbing his towel from the rack.

First, he forgets his cell phone at home on a Monday afternoon, so he’s got nothing to do to pass the time while he patrols.

Then the girl he likes slaps him before running back into her apartment without another word, probably to go cry-

And finally, to make the perfect end to the perfect day Dick got caught in a spontaneous rainstorm, getting soaked to the bone on his way back home. He figured Gotham could wait for a few hours and decided to come home a little early.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch a cold” he mumbles tying his robe around his waist, his hands moving the towel to dry his hair, stopping mid-motion when he hears several very urgent knocks.

Well, who could it be at this hour? He’s considering ignoring it, probably just one of his brothers wanting to use his shower, when he hears several more knocks.

“Geez Jason, the neighbors are going to complain” he hisses, as he clings open the door, fully expecting to see his younger brother drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the middle of his apartment building's hallway.

And someone is standing in the middle of his apartment building's communal hallway, drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the hallway. But it’s not Jason, it’s you.

He only pulls you inside his apartment, the door clicking behind you when you break down into tears.

“I-I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to, I should have known better but- I didn’t think it would happen” The words are jilted by your tears and your chattering teeth. Did you run all the way here? Dick wonders as he starts using his slightly damp towel to dry your hair.

“I really didn’t want it, Dick, I promise I didn’t-“ you clasp his arm now jilting his movements. In the pandemonium, he completely forgot that you were the one that slapped him just a few hours ago, and now you’re the one apologizing for something?

“What are you talking about?” he sees your gulp hard, your eyes averted like a dog that realizes he’s accidentally snapped at his owner. And then, with clenched eyes and your hands balled into fists you shout:

“Nightwing kissed me!” Yeah, he knows, he was there. Kinda weird that you’re referring to him with his superhero persona. You look at him earnestly now- clasping both of his hands in yours.

“I promise I didn’t mean to make a pass at your boyfriend or steal him away from you.”

...

Huh?

You’re babbling about how ‘You could do so much better than a guy like that Dick’ and ‘if it was me- I would never do something like that’ when the flashbulb finally goes off over his head.

Oh.

Ohhhhhhhh. You think he’s dating Nightwing. This actually explains a lot.

“Here come with me” he grabs onto your numb wrist before you can answer, tugging you towards his bedroom. Your eyes staring into his robe-covered back.

Oh no, you can’t believe you didn’t realize it before.

Nightwing’s here isn’t he? That would answer why he hasn’t answered any of the texts you’ve sent him. Who would when they were busy having a romantic liaison with their lover. And obviously, he spun some different story for Dick, probably that you kissed him. And now you’re going to have to confront them both and pray that Dick believes you-

Only to your surprise, the bedroom is empty, and Dick’s fiddling around with something in his rather large wardrobe. Before you can ask what he’s doing he pulls out a suit-

It almost looks like a wet suit, with accents of blue amongst the sleek black- so he surfs? Is he showing off right now?

But then your eyes land on the bright blue symbol smack dab in the middle of the chest.

So Nightwing was here, and he did spin another story! You’re mentally preparing your best argument when you look into Dick’s baby blue eyes stare into your own, softening as they gaze warmly at you.

“(Y/N), I’m Nightwing”

...

(Y/N).exe is broken

Dick watches you gulp hard. Then he watches you slide past him, each step pronounced with a squeak, and step into his wardrobe before closing it from the inside.

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)’s dead, so she can’t come to the phone anymore” Dick can practically feel the embarrassment radiate through the wardrobe door, and in spite of the situation, Dick laughs. He laughs so hard you actually swing open the door, crouched at the bottom of his wardrobe.

“It’s not funny Dick! Do you know how worried I was about you! I thought Bruce Wayne was homophobic and that you were leading some double life!” Dick only laughs harder at that. To be fair, he is leading a double life, just not the one you imagined he was.

“Well you’re not totally wrong,” he says between chuckles, sitting on the ground outside your wardrobe next to you. “I like guys and girls, but Bruce had it figured out before I even did,” he says with a shrug, mouth quirked up into a grin. His cheeks hold a rosy tinge, but somehow his red cheek is even brighter-

Ah, that’s the cheek you slapped.

Without thinking you reach out to him, your thumb caressing the swollen flesh. Dick doesn’t flinch away, relaxing into your touch.

“Sorry about that, I thought your boyfriend was cheating on you,” you say with a sheepish smile. Dick grins even wider.

“Would the response have been the same if you knew it was me?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and you feel your heartbeat stutter.

Is he stupid?

If you knew it was Dick if you knew it was the boy you loved sitting on your balcony railing drinking tea with you all those times-

“Of course I wouldn’t have”

And Dick doesn’t wait another moment, leaning forward to catch your lips in his own.

This time you don’t slap him. Instead, you place both hands on his face and pull him in closer.

BONUS:

“So you’re Nightwing-“ you say, sitting cross-legged across from Dick in a marching bathrobe in his bed. He insisted you shower, he didn’t want you getting sick. You thought he was going to combust with how red he turned when you jokingly asked if he wanted to join you.

“And your Dad, Bruce, he’s Batman”

“That’s right” Dick nods.

“And you’re brothers, they’re the Red Hood, Robin, and Red Robin... respectively,”

Dick nods again.

“And Stephanie and Cass, they’re a part of this too, They’re both Batgirl” Dick nods, he tries to get some eye contact, but you’re firmly starting down at your hands.

“And your ex, Barbara Gordon, Commissioner Gordon’s daughter- she’s the original Batgirl.”

This must be pretty overwhelming, he had never realized what a robust mantle their extended family collectively carried. He’s about to offer you some comfort when your head snaps up-

“Do you think if I got all of them to autograph my textbook I could sell it and buy a new one”

Dick starts laughing.

“Seriously, there’s no one like you in the world”

#batman imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing headcanon #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction #superhero—imagines #dick miscommunication series

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