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wreckofawriter · 9 months

Text

Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.

Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?”

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.

“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-dood13 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys @evyiione

m.list

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley imagines #fred weasly x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp #weasley twins #harry potter x reader

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sarahreesbrennan · 4 months

Note

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

#bookblr #discourse #in other lands #long live evil #les mis #carmen maria machado #writing

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azrakaban · 15 days

Text

Thief - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: Why did I do this? Far too late too be writing there will be no spell check <3

Summary: Mattheo keeps using pick up lines on you. Will they work? That's a different question...

The house isn't mentioned too much, but reader is implied a Gryffindor <3

n/n: nickname

Warnings: Mattheo (he's a warning okay), swearing, mentions of drugs and cigarettes

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." Mattheo smirked, and you nearly choked.

For the past two weeks, Mattheo had been popping out of nowhere to use stupid pick up lines on you. It's become quite alarming, with him dropping smoke bombs on you to appear out of 'nowhere', flying up to your dorm window on his broom, sending a howler... Mattheo Riddle is nothing if not persistent. And it was all started by a conversation you'd been having with Pansy Parkinson a week ago.

...

"-I just don't think they're that bad. Cheesy maybe, but I'd say yes to a good pick up line actually." You said to Pansy, walking to potions together.

"What constitutes a good pick up line though?" She questioned you, giving you a side smile.

"If it makes me laugh, it's good. The perfect combination of cheesy and funny. Most people overdo them. The craft of a perfect pick up line is an art." You replied, fiddling with the straps on your bag.

Mattheo Riddle then brushed past you, dramatically falling to the floor.

"Ouch! I just skinned my knee! Falling for you." He said, smirking.

You stood there, frozen and confused. "What?" You said finally.

"You said you'd say yes to a good pick up line, princess. How was that?" Mattheo said, standing and looking at you with a small smirk playing at his lips.

You laughed. "Come up with an original one and then we'll talk."

"Oh come on! That was original!" He protested, before being smacked over the head by Enzo.

"Liar, I told you that one." Enzo said, rolling his eyes at you with a 'can you believe him?' expression on his face.

You shook your head, smiling before heading to potions with Pansy.

You smiled, shaking your head as you walked with Pansy to Potions.

...

That was how you'd got to the point you were at now, still waiting for Mattheo to come up with a pick up line that didn't make you want to jump off of the astronomy tower.

That was the deal. If Mattheo could make you laugh with a pick up line, you would go on a date with him. If you didn't laugh, he wouldn't be allowed to smoke a cigarette for the rest of the day. So far, it's been 3 weeks of no cigarettes for Mattheo.

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." You nearly choked, resisting the urge to smash a book over Mattheo's stupid pretty head.

You looked to him with a sigh, being met with a shit eating grin.

"That's my favourite so far personally." He said conversationally, opening his Transfiguration textbook.

"That may just be one of the worst." You replied, shaking your head with a smile.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your essay. A few other students cast weird looks your way, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sat together. You paid them no notice, crossing out a few things on your essay.

Mattheo leaned across, trying to look at yours, and you pulled it away.

"Ah ah ah. I know your thieving tendencies, stealing pick up lines from books and people, you're not stealing my Transfiguration notes." You said, glaring playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Fine. But just so you know, the name for people who can turn into animals is 'Animagi', not 'AniwhatthefuckjustcameoutofRiddle'smouth'.

You glared at him, crossing it out and scribbling over it to make it unreadable.

"When McGonagall asks, I'm blaming you." You said, looking up a definition in your text book.

"Sure. You'll probably find what to say to her under 'I was the recipient of a legendary pick up line.'" He said, gesturing towards your textbook.

You smacked his hand away, and he gasped, recoiling.

"Offended, princess. Offended." He said, putting on an expression of mock offense.

A Ravenclaw boy from your charms class came over, and instantly, Mattheo's guard was up again. He glared at the boy, and the boy, thinking better of it, decided not to disturb you two. You giggled.

"You switch up faster than Snape runs from shampoo." You commented, highlighting a part of your book on merpeople. Mattheo glanced over.

"You know what the little mermaid and me have in common?" He said abruptly.

"Bad grammar?" You guessed. He sighed dramatically.

"We both wanna be part of your world." He wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying.

"Mattheo, what crime did I commit to end up in this purgatory?" You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"The only crime is your criminal beauty." He said with a smirk. You groaned. "Sorry yn, I'm not good at holding conversations. Can I hold your hand instead?"

"I'm going to cry. Or die." You whispered to yourself.

He laughed. "You'll come around eventually yn. You know, my favourite number is 14, because you're the 1 4 me."

You nearly screamed. "Leave. I'm begging you. Come back later."

"Alrighty, fine. Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come back later?"

You threw a book at his head, which he caught somehow.

"Damn girl, good thing I've got my library card because I'm checking you out."

You glared at him, and, finally picking up on his cue, Mattheo left.

...

It had been a few days since the library incident. Three days of peace. Thank god life isn't Duolingo, because you were about to lose that streak.

A note was slipped onto your desk during history of magic. You looked up, read it, and steadfastly ignored it.

'God damn girl r u a bank loan cuz u got my interest ;)'

Another appeared when you started doodling. 'r u an artist cuz u were so good at drawing me in (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)'

that one you actually replied to, flipping over the paper. 'damn boy are you the terms and conditions? Because I don't give a fuck what you say ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡' .

When Mattheo received that note back he sighed dramatically, clutching his heart as if you'd mortally wounded him.

A minute later, the note was back on your desk. 'My favourite insect? The butterflies u give me ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯'

You groaned, quickly scribbling a response. 'Can you stop for just a few minutes pls I'm trying to pay attention to the history of magic.'

'I may not go down in history but I'll definitely go down on u ;)'

'Azkaban. Now.'

'xx.'

...

The next day, in the Great Hall, you were saying with your friends when Mattheo came over and joined you at the Gryffindor table. You raised an eyebrow.

"Last time I checked, Riddle, your tie was green." You said, smiling slightly.

"It is. I just wanted to see you in the morning. I mean, kiss me if I'm wrong, but the rain is so heavy right now." He said nonchalantly.

You turned to look out of the window.

It was a clear day, with sun shining through a cloudless sky.

You sighed, turning back to him as he gave you a 'what can I say?' look. You shook your head, smiling.

He turned back to your table, looking at the food. "Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?" He said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Go back to your own table Riddle."

"Are you my appendix? Because I feel like I should take you out." He replied, smiling slightly.

"Wait what? Is your appendix okay?" You said worriedly.

"Yeah no it's fine, don't worry. Just a pick up line yn, calm down, it won't bite. Just me making jokes about bad health, like 'are you asthma? Because you take my breath away.'" He replied, shaking his head with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Okay..." You said, still slightly concerned.

Mattheo smirked. "Are you my father? Because I wish you were around more." You looked at him, even more concerned than before. "I'm starting to wonder if you need therapy." You said, a small smile playing at your lips.

"I don't need therapy, I just need you to come to dinner with me, because I can't spell menu without me n u." He said, smiling. You very nearly laughed, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo stood up, nodding a goodbye before heading back to the slytherin table, where his friends were not so subtly calling him over.

"She nearly laughed. Shit." Mattheo whispered to his friends. They laughed. "Not funny. I really like her, I wasn't expecting her to nearly laugh. I'm close." He said, mainly speaking to himself.

Theo clapped him on the back. "You're down bad mate." He said, shaking his head. Mattheo sighed, turning to look at you quickly. "Yeah. J am." He admitted.

...

A few minutes later, you stood, heading out into the entrance hall, and were immediately ambushed by Cormac McLaggen. Yippee.

"Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?" He said, smirking.

"Are you bad WiFi? Because I'm feeling no connection here." You replied, not looking at him and trying to brush past him.

He stopped you, gripping your shoulder and not so gently shoving you back. You adjusted your bag and faced him, looking confused.

"A little too fast to brush me off there l/n." He said, still with that obnoxious smirk. To be fair, all smirks are obnoxious. Well... not all smirks. An image flashed into your mind of a certain slytherin with curly brown hair and chocolate eyes.

You zoned back into the moron stood infront of you, who was now attempting to lecture you on how you should have replied to his pick up line. You zoned out again, until you registered what he was saying.

"-Make it up to me." He finished, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry what?" You said, looking confused.

"You heard me. You'll need to make it up to me, because you just embarrassed me." He said, puffing up his chest with his own importance.

"I don't need to do anything for you, McLaggen. I rejected you, your ego can take it." You said patiently, waiting for it to sink in for him. You attempted to walk away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the Slytherins leaving the hall. A hand grilled your wrist, painful and harshly. McLaggen glared at you.

"I don't get why Riddle is telling everyone to leave you alone, 'Princess'. You're not even that special, probably just whoring yourself out to the first guy who comes to yo-"

That was all you heard before someone's fist connected with Cormac's jaw, sending him flying to the ground.

You watched in slight horror as Mattheo pummelled McLaggen into the flagstones. Only slight horror though. McLaggen was insufferable.

You watched, frozen, as Mattheo's friends held McLaggen down for him, rather than pulling Mattheo off of him.

Eventually, the teachers arrived and pulled he boys off of McLaggen, whom was now sporting a black eye, cracked teeth, a dented nose and a split lip.

"Nobody calls her that. And only I call her Princess." Mattheo spat.

You were dragged with them to McGonagall's office and told to wait outside.

...

A half hour later, Draco, Theo and Blaise emerged from the office, not looking at all bothered by what just went down. You gave them a sheepish look, and Blaise shrugged.

"We got detention, no big deal." You felt bad, given it was partially your fault.

"I'm sorry you guys got detention." You said sympathetically. They shook their heads.

"It's not your fault, l/n, it's not like you asked us to do anything." Theo said, rolling his eyes, but not maliciously.

"Is Mattheo okay?" You asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Enzo said, appearing from McGonagall's office with a smirk. Draco elbowed him, and Enzo sighed. "He's fine, but he's got two months of detention, so no more evening study dates/hangouts for you two." He continued, and you blushed.

"They're not dates." You said, shaking your head. Blaise smirked. "You might wanna tell him that. He comes back from the library looking like Cupid was feeling particularly violent."

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I'm sure you're being dramatic." The boys violently shook their heads.

"Far from. There are Polaroids. Seriously, y/n, I know we're supposed to be his wingmen and make him seem cool and chill, but the reality is that Mattheo is absolutely disgustingly in love with you." Theo stated plainly.

"And it's a pain for all of us when he won't shut up about you (no offence), so do us a favour and go out with him?" Enzo continued, looking at you pleadingly. "Before he realised you didn't want to be talking to McLaggen, he looked like a kicked puppy."

You pictured the image mentally. Damn his stupid pretty brown stupid eyes.

"I can't go out with him until he makes me laugh with a pick up line I haven't heard before." You said, sighing. "If I just go out with him without laughing, he wins! I can't lose to him, I've been so strong all of these weeks." You said, gritting your teeth.

"Are you saying it's been hard for you to turn him down?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. No. Shut up." You said, hiding your face in your hands and sinking down onto a chair by the door.

"It's okay to like Mattheo, y/n. Sure, he's a massive pain in the ass and he's rude to a lot of people besides you, but you read Twisted Love, you're probably into that." Theodore said, shrugging.

You gave him a look of disbelief. "You know Twisted Love?" Theo blushed faintly.

"I have sisters."

"Anyway guys, I appreciate whatever it is you're doing for Mattheo, but my decision is clear. When he makes me laugh, I'll go out with him." You said, smiling.

"Fine. We'll help him out, because we're rooting for you two." Enzo said, checking his watch. "Don't I know it." You muttered. Enzo smiled. Mattheo emerged from McGonagall's office, looking only slightly like his mood had been dampened. You gave him a small smile.

"You okay Riddle?" His eyes moved to you, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

"Y/n? Did McGonagall ask you to wait?" He said, confused.

"Actually, y/n is here of her own free will." Enzo cut in, smirking. You blushed, looking down and Mattheo smiled faintly.

"Oh yeah? Going soft on me Princess?" He said, crouching down to force you to look at him.

You looked up and he straightened, still watching you intently.

"In your dreams Riddle." He smiled.

"Actually, you are in my dreams, y/n. You're a recurring dream for me, do you want to make us a reality?" He said, giving you a look.

(I'm sorry I have to insert this, it's this look. This one.)

You smiled. "You know the rules, Mattheo. I laugh, I'll go on a date with you." You said.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm in pain, y/n. Pain. But that is true. And I will be holding you to it." He says, smiling.

"I'd expect nothing less from you Riddle." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Good. Do you mind if I talk to you? Alone?" Mattheo asked, his tone changing to one of slight concern.

You frowned slightly, but nodded. He led you away from his friends, who quickly disappeared off to the Slytherin common room.

Mattheo took a deep breath and turned to you. "Y/n, I know I'm irritating you. I know I'm distracting you, I saw the mark you got on your last transfiguration exam. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was distracting you when you tried to revise, and I keep pestering you everywhere, and if you want me just to leave you alone I completely get it." He said, looking slightly mad at himself.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.

"And I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, you don't owe me a date, you didn't have to wait for me outside McGonagall's office just because I fought McLaggen for you. You don't have to do anything for me, okay?" He continued, looking away from you.

"I know I don't have to do anything for you Mattheo. I want to." You replied, speaking quietly and hesitantly.

He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You want to?"

You nodded. "I like your company. I don't mind having you around, it's fun. You're not as bad as I first thought. Actually, you're nothing like what I first thought." You said, trailing off as you saw his smile.

"And what did you originally think I was like?" He smirked.

"Arrogant. Sarcastic. Bit of an asshole." Mattheo shrugged, agreeing with you. "Honestly? I thought that the whole pick up lines thing was a joke for ages." You admitted.

The smile dropped from his face. "A joke? What do you mean?" He said, frowning and trying to meet your eyes.

"You know. Like you were doing it for a dare." He shook his head. "Y/n, I'd never do that. I genuinely do care about you a lot. Merlin, I care about you so stupidly much that I punched a guy. I know that's bad, and I swear I'm not usually violent but he was harassing you. And all I could think was 'no. no no no no no.'" He sighed.

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You're sweet, Mattheo. Kinda cute actually." He raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm cute?" You blushed.

"no. you must have hallucinated it." You said, shaking your head.

"I mean, I'm flattered y/n. I hope you know CPR, because you're taking my breath away." He said, smirking as you stepped closer to him. You giggled slightly, before realising.

Mattheo's eyes widened. "You laughed. You laughed at my pick up line. The one I came up with literally a second ago." You smiled.

"Maybe I did. What does that mean Riddle?" You said, stepping closer.

"It means you should go on a date with me. But you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?" He said, smiling down at you.

"I want to." You said. Mattheo exhaled slowly, stepping closer. His hands came to rest on your hips, not moving. He gave you time to push him away, but you didn't, so his hands stilled.

"You want to?" He repeated, making sure.

You nodded. "Mhm. It's why I've gone along with this for so long." You giggled, as his forehead uncreased and he relaxed slightly, before quickly lifting you up and spinning you around.

You laughed as he put you back down, noticing the lack of space between you. Your eyes flickered to his lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo's eyes landed on your lips, and then returned to your eyes. There was so little distance between you two.

You nodded slightly, registering his silent request. "Mattheo..." You whispered. That was it for him. His lips crashed into yours, one hand cupping your face and the other resting on your hip.

You kissed him back, letting him gently back you into a wall, hand moving to the back of your head to keep you comfortable.

Eventually, you both pulled back for air, slightly breathless. You smiled, and he brushed some hair out of your eyes.

"Be mine?" He said in a low voice, practically begging you.

"I'm already yours." You whispered back to him, letting him kiss you again.

This kiss lasted less time than the first, but was still beautiful.

"But we're still going on that date right?" You asked, smiling.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess." He replied, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

A flash went off, and you turned to see Theodore and Colin Creevey. Theodore took the photo from Colin, smirking. "Mattheo, you're a fucking simp."

"Damn right." Mattheo replied, smiling slightly at you.

...

A/N: My first actual Mattheo fic! Doesn't make sense, seeing as he's my favourite slytherin boy. Anyway, I feel like I'm horrible at writing kiss scenes, so lemme know if it was too cringy or smth like that! Thnx for reading<333

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherins #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys fluff #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #don't even ask #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n

789 notes · View notes

romihearts · 7 months

Text

bf headcannons ! ┊second years , first years

synopsis. how they would be as your bf!

content. gn reader, intended lowercase, swearing

her notes. 3rd year ver might get delayed wrhshshshaah

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS * ˚ ✦

strict yet caring !

love is quite a foreign concept to him, but he'll try his best to make you feel special <33

tea party dates are a must! its more commonly held inbetween the maze, where it's secluded and leaves the two of you alone

will always help you with academics, while you, in return, help him with de stressing !!

just seeing you makes riddle melt, but if he sees you in heartslabyul uniforms he'd feel as if he fell inlove all over again

love language? words of affirmation, he'll write essays or poems just to describe the absolute masterpiece of you

RUGGIE BUCCHI * ˚ ✦

would seriously give you the world!

even the small things matter, like him giving you his donut if he found out you haven't eaten yet.

its quite uncommon but he'd make you small flower crowns :3 he thinks you look so much better with them

would definitely be willing to escape leona's orders just to be with you!

love language? definitely an acts of service or quality time typa guy. he'd wipe any crumbs of food near your mouth unexpectedly and laught about how cute you are.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO * ˚ ✦

orders jade and floyd around to find you around campus when you aren't with him fr

when he's showing his #corporateceoboss side, he'll definitely wrap his hand around you waist and act cool but behind closed door he'd be very clingy!

asking not to go with a very very sweet smile. then immediately offering anything you want from the lounge just to stay, which you eventually do.

he'd love spoiling you, saying that you'd look spectacular in this or that, but in the end it doesn't matter to azul because you'll always be perfect for him in anyway !!

his love language? gift giving !! he'd give you so much that sometimes you don't know where to put anymore of his gifts because you have so much

FLOYD LEECH * ˚ ✦

he'd bite

or sometimes back hug you a bit too hard

but he definitely bites you randomly :3

but that doesn't take away from the fact he really loves you dearly <3 he'd geniunely do anything to protect you

he definitely shows that you're his favourite person, always showering you with love and flirting with you.

his love language? physical touch !! he loves squeezing hugging you, he can never get enough of you !!

JADE LEECH * ˚ ✦

definitely super courteous with you, a literal gentleman!

he'd fix astray strands of your hair, or crumpled parts of your uniform then tell you how nice you look.

unlike his brother, i find him to prefer leaving kisses on your hand or forehead.

oh he'd definitely gift you flowers too !! especially with a note saying that you're as perfect as said flowers

overall total gentleman, yet there are times where he gets a bit threatening to others, but he somehow keeps his composure ?? you truly question him on that.

his love language? words of affirmation, he'll always love to compliment you and make comments wondering how he even got you.

KALIM AL-ASIM * ˚ ✦

everyday with him is definitely very chaotic, from carpet rides or random adventures, campus life is definitely not dull.

he'd for sure spoil you with whatever you want! if he notices you looking a bit too long at a specific item, guaranteed that he'll get it for you almost immediately

like azul, he also loves giving you gifts, like big plushy bears for example. he'd get you one and say that it's as soft as you

he may be oblivious sometimes when you try some pick up lines on him yet whenever he does get some, it will never leave his mind. like you ?!?! thinking of that about him ?!?!

his love language? gift giving. self explanatory, he'll always give you anything in the world!

JAMIL VIPER * ˚ ✦

he'd be quite distant when you two first meet, buuttt after enough pushing from kalim he'll talk to you

but prior to that he definitely had a crush on you, pining for you yet he hasn't really gotten close to you yet hence, he had kalim to push him to talk to you

he'd be a very caring boyfriend, after looking over kalim for almost his entire life he's pretty used to it !

he would love cooking you meals, and would definitely supervision you when you're sick. like, constantly checking your temperature, telling you to just rest, etc.

his love language? acta of service, he'll always be there to help you when you need him !!

SILVER * ˚ ✦

cuddles with him are common! especially when both of you are sleepy and drift off to dreams in each others arms.

definitely very soft and understanding with you

he'd take you to secluded and tranquil places around the forests where both of you can talk about anything while slowly getting sleepy.

he'd take you to the equestrian club aswell and help you ride the horses

if you do learn and know how, he'd have some small competitions with you !!

his love language? qualiy time, just being with you already calms him down and brings him to peace <3

746 notes · View notes

adyophene · 3 months

Note

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

#not art #this is long #like really long #like don't open it unless you want 25 paragraphs about a crackship that like 12 people ship #royalflush #lucihusk

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ihopeiexplode · 20 days

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📱 “Past is Past right?” [ ← Previous | Next → ]

—

Yuji would be sitting on his couch watching a movie clearly more focused on it rather than the knocks on the door..

It's been exactly 5 minutes before Yuji finally noticed..he'd get up and make his way towards the door, as he opened it he was greeted with 3 familiar figures, gojo, nanami and yuki

"hii!! Do you guys need something?"

He'd say before welcoming the 3 of them with a smile as they sat on the couch with Yuji making his way and taking a seat in the middle,

Before he knew it all eyes were on him

"Soooo yuji im pretty sure you know what's going on with y/n and Sukuna right??"

Gojo would ask with Yuki following along

"and we were wondering if you could tell us what's going on with them"

"nuh uh I'm not telling, sukuna threatened me not to tell anyone.."

"awhhh cmonn If you tell us I'll help set you up with anyone you want"

Before gojo would finish, nanami would step in

"enough you two."

Both gojo and yuki would scoff and just stayed silent,

"as gojo said Yuji, we want to know more about sukunas and y/n's relationship, if that's fine with you of course,"

"..."

"honestly..if I'm being honest I've been DYING. to tell somebody!"

The 3 of them look at each other before looking back at Yuji, paying close attention to whatever he has to say

"basically!"

"sukuna and y/n known each other since elementary I think?..but anyways! Sukuna told me he liked her ever since they started talking apparently his reasoning is because she was kind and friendly to him while everyone else was scared of him"

"and then during third year highschool I think..? Sukuna and her grew closer, he was even planning on confessing after so long, so he planned it all out, getting her favorite flowers and putting it in her locker and even made a cute little note telling her to meet him somewhere, but he never said his name anddd he probably should've.. because when he got there"

"he saw y/n and some other guy and what's next made him absolutely furious, guess what.. he saw them kissed?! And then boom he dropped the gift he got for her and left, then apparently the next day y/n told him all about it, turns out the guy she kissed pretended he got her the flowers and gave the letter when in reality it was sukuna who gave it"

"and from then on sukuna was pissed that she believed it from that point on he started avoiding y/n and she probably thought he hated her for no absolute reason, and hear this..just a few months into y/n and that guys relationship the guy cheated on her, so like apparently sukuna saw her crying he really wanted to comfort her and confess that it was him who got her the flowers and the letter, but of course sukunas stubborn, instead he just scoffed and left"

"and apparently again y/n saw him and thought he was making fun of her from that point on they couldn't stand each other!"

"anyways that's it!"

When he finished he saw how shocked they looked

"SO YOUR TELLING ME THEY COULDVE BEEN IN A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP BY NOW IF IT WEREN'T FOR SOME MISUNDERSTANDING?!"

Yuki would yell out

"uh...yes...?"

With that all three of them thanked Yuji before stepping out the house

—

Y/n would sit down next to sukuna while there professor was sat from the opposite side of the table,

"I'm glad both of you made it!"

"if your wondering why I called you two here..I checked the project I assigned you both and uhm.."

"it was something for sure..but, you two got the lowest grade out of everyone, and I don't want any of my students failing so I'm giving you two a chance to do better alright?"

"you'll be assigned to a much different project and please do better.."

"if you don't mind me asking, what exactly was wrong with our work?"

"the collage you made was just a bunch of mushed up pictures..."

"this time for your project, the two of you will write daily essays of what you two feel about each other, and for this to work the two of you would need to spend time with each other constantly"

"and If you're gonna wonder why I'm making you do this, it is because the two of you keep bickering with one another..so see this project as something to help you to get along!"

"oh and one more thing, you two can't see each other's essays, both of you will only read them once it's due, and the two of you have exactly one month to do this"

After both sukuna and y/n was out of the classroom they both looked at each other

"this is all your fault."

You'd say as you turned to go face him

"yeah yeah keep yapping, but are we not gonna question what we were assigned to do?"

"oh right..can't we just I don't know fake it?? I don't wanna spend one month with you."

"I'm not that bad, your just being dramatic"

"your whole personality makes me rip my hair off I don't know how Uraume deals with you"

"I don't know how your friends deal with you either, I should ask them to blink twice if they need help, i bet you held them at gun point for them to be friends with you"

"haha very funny."

"anyways, the sooner we do it the faster, where do you wanna meet up?"

"don't know and don't really care either"

"oh alright so your fine with going with me to an Abandon place?"

"and get murdered by you? No thx."

"kidding, we could go to a cafe If you want, I'll pick you up after your classes"

—

@-! Likes & Reblogs Are Appreciated ^^

A/N: be honest guys do they act like enemies or just friends who can't stand each other☹️

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud (comment to be added/removed)

#jjk sukuna #jjk smau #jjk ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 5 months

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my mum bought me my first neil gaiman book, maggots!!

So, I don't know if you'd call it a book like a story, rather, it's a series of essays by Neil that were illustrated by Chris Riddell. My mum listened to the story of how I was kidnapped adopted by the Good Omens fandom. She was very confused, but since I'm an author and artist, she bought me the book, Art Matters.

And I've been seeing so much beautiful fanart and edits and fanfiction from this fandom, I swear to God or Someone, and it's all reminding me what a wonderful thing fandom is. And art is.

I read the book, and it was amazing, and here's a few quotes from it that I think the ridiculously talented people who created the book and the show as well as every fan who has made this creation grow should hear.

"And remember that whatever discipline you are in, whether you are a musician or a photographer, a fine artist or a cartoonist, a writer, a dancer, a designer, whatever you do, you have one thing that's unique. You have the ability to make art. And for me, and for so many of the people I have known, that's been a lifesaver. The ultimate lifesaver."

"...while you're at it, make your art. Do that stuff that only you can do. ...the one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can."

"And where would be the fun is doing something you knew was going to work?"

Well, you heard him, maggots. Go on creating. You are all so, so important. I came to tumblr because I was lonely and I wanted a friend.

I found a family, instead. In this very strange fandom that kidnapped adopted me. I love you all, and I'm glad to cry with you. I haven't even got to season 2 yet.

Side note...

Welcome, @neil-gaiman, join the maggots in watching me sob over Aziraphale and Crowley. It really is very quiet, gentle and romantic out here.

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remusluvr · 1 year

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in my feelings | remus lupin

summary: you realize just how much you love Remus. content warning: female reader, argument (kind of), sappy love, p in v, fingering, implied first time, no usage of (y/n), i love you's, angst, not edited

He can't help but stare at you. Your hair is falling over your face as you write away at your essay. It's due tomorrow and he doesn't want to distract you so he stays quiet as you finish up. He cherishes these times with you, the comfortable silence. He watches you carefully and he swears it just slips from his lips, "I love you. You know that?"

You look up from your essay with wide eyes. He immediately feels regret seep into his veins. It weighs him down as he waits for you to say something. Your lips pull into a thin line and he watches as you take a deep breath before looking down.

It's the equivalent of being shot right through the heart, he thinks. The way you looked at him like you wanted to say it but won't. He doesn't want to rush you. Not at all. But it has been seven months and how he hasn't said it before is surprising to him.

"Rem," you start, looking back up from the floor. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at you. You lose your train of thought or he thinks you do as you sit up and gather the parchment in front of you.

"I didn't say it so that you'd leave," he murmurs, embarrassed that he confessed something so vulnerable only to be rejected. However, he doesn't stop you from packing your things up and into your backpack. And he doesn't stop you from leaving because he knows he can't make you love him back.

Remus doesn't know how to feel. All he wants is to take it back and pretend like it never happened but he can't. And he can't stop picturing the look on your face after he had said it. It pains him and he runs a hand down his face, grabbing his bag and leaving to go back to his dorm.

His body still feels heavy the next morning and he can't get out of bed, not even after James tried to give him a 'Potter Peptalk.' Remus hadn't told them about what happened but James and Sirius had assumed it had something to do with you. He never got like this about anyone else. It's weird what love does to a person.

All James can do is run a hand through Remus's hair, patting his back and telling him to feel better. Remus is glad when they leave the dorm. He knows he shouldn't be missing classes over this but he is.

You notice his absence immediately after trying to find him at breakfast. You hadn't meant to fuck things up this bad. It was the only thing on your mind. He looked so dejected after you couldn't say it back. You cursed yourself when you had gotten back to your dorm room, ignoring the looks from your roommates as you slinked into your bed.

His absence was even more noticeable during the classes you had together. James covered for him, saying he was feeling under the weather but you knew better and from the side eye you got from James, he also knew better. You wonder if he told his friends what happened.

It's difficult to get through a class without him. Usually, he's right beside you, cracking jokes and writing notes on your spare papers. You miss him.

Your chest feels like it's being crushed at the thought of never having that again. Now, while you can't exactly say the words, you know what you feel. And you're going to have to figure out a way to tell Remus or else you'd lose him and you can't lose Remus.

Skipping the rest of your classes, you trek up to the Gryffindor dorms. Tears prick at your eyes as you walk closer to his room and you have to take a moment to yourself outside of his door before walking in, willing yourself not to cry and make him feel worse.

He's chainsmoking out of one of the windows when you walk in. His eyes flicker over to the door, halting as they fall onto you. You don't know what to do, how to fix it.

"Hi," is what you start with. He gives you a tight-lipped smile before turning back to the window. You want to throw up everywhere at his dismissal. Walking over to him, you pluck the cigarette from his fingers, stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Those things are bad for you."

"Sorry," he mumbles. Your bag slides off your shoulder and you toss off your uniform robe, throwing it over top of your bag.

"Remus, I am so sorry about yesterday a-"

"You don't have to apologize. It's fine, I'm just not feeling very well today," he sighed, reaching for another cigarette.

You're not sure why you're having so much trouble saying the words he wants to hear. It's not that you don't love him. It would be a greater feat to not love him. He's so caring. Always carrying your books for you, making sure you eat, checking up on you when you're more off than usual, letting you cuddle into him when you can't sleep at night, buying you things when you go to Hogsmeade together. The list could go on forever.

You clear your throat, looking down at the ground as you will yourself to say it. If you say it then it means that this is real. That you and Remus are really real.

"I love you," you breathe and he whips his head toward you. You're still staring at the floor.

"You don't have to say it. Really, it's okay."

"No, Remus. I love you," you affirm, looking up at him. He's already stubbing out his cigarette and moving to you. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. Tears are welling in your eyes and all you want is for him to say it back. You want to know that everything is fixed and that he still loves you. Your lip quivers with the effort you're using to not cry.

"You mean it? You're not just saying it because you feel bad?" He can feel all the unease and heaviness leave his body when you nod, smiling at him. He swallows before closing the gap between you and him.

He's been aching for you, for your presence. You're glad to be hugging him again, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, "I love you too."

He backs you up to his bed, pushing you back onto it. He smiles down at you as he hovers over top of you. Your chest feels shaky as he stares at you and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to help you focus on something else.

Things between you and Remus have not surpassed a heavy make-out session. But now feels different. It is different.

He's messing with you by just looking at you. But before you can even begin to process that thought, his lips are on yours and his hand is hiking one of your legs up so he's more comfortable laying on top of you. Your high on him as your hands grab the sides of his face to keep him held to you. He tastes like cigarettes and chocolate. What else could you expect from him?

"Need you," you sigh into his mouth and he pulls away from you, the opposite of what you wanted. His lips are swollen and you lick yours subconsciously. You pout up at him and it's all that he needed. His mouth is on yours again and his hands are pulling at your uniform, untucking your shirt and pulling the tie from around your neck.

Your hands are equally as grabby with the way they're tugging at his shirt, a shirt you had gotten him for his birthday a few months back. You smile into the kiss and feel him smile back. He pulls back from you again but it doesn't last long as he lets you readjust closer to the headboard of the bed.

His chest is heaving as he watches you shimmy the rest of the way out of your skirt. You eye him as he runs a hand through his hair. Remus can't believe the sight in front of him - you in your bra and underwear, hands reaching for him to drag him towards you. He doesn't let you go without him for long, just as desperate to be close to you.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles into your mouth, free hand cupping at your breast. You whine into his mouth in return and he nearly dies inside. His hand trails down, slipping under the hem of your underwear. He watches your face as he rubs circles on your clit, a way of asking if you're okay. You're more than okay with the way you're leaning into him. His fingers trace your entrance before slipping in, loving the way you take a quick inhale through your nose.

"Remmy," you moan as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His lips are sucking marks into your neck and your brain is fuzzy. Your hands are pinned beside you but you will them to move and you pull at the hem of his own pants.

"Oh god," he breathes into your neck and you feel bad, taking your hand away. You didn't want to do anything he didn't want to do and the sudden lack of you worries him enough to stop the attack on your neck. "What's wrong?"

His fingers still in you and you whine, pushing yourself down onto his fingers, "Remus. Need you, please."

He understands. His pants are off instantly as he takes a moment to kiss you again before taking his boxers off too. You're worried to say the least. He's big and your gaze flickers from him to him.

"I'll go slow. Promise," he smirks down at you, pulling your underwear down your legs. He keeps his promise, pushing in slowly and staying like that until you tell him to go. Your hands are tangled in his hair and his face is pressed into your neck again.

It's desperate and needy the way you two are grabbing at each other. He can't get enough of you as he thrusts into you, soaking in the way you squirm beneath him. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't going to last very long and he's close before he even knows it.

"R-R-" you moan out and he shushes you, helping you chase that high. Your fingers claw at his back and still when you come, eyes rolling back and moans unabashedly leaving your mouth. He doesn't last long with the way your cunt is squeezing him and he fills you.

He stays lying on top of you for a few moments before rolling over, chest still heaving. You're sleepy and already missing him. You roll over with him, leg tossed over his stomach and head resting on his chest, his hand idly running through your hair.

"How you feeling, baby?"

"Good, a little gross though. Can I use your shower?" you ask, looking up at him. He's definitely gone to heaven or he's dreaming. There's just no way any of that happened and now he has you in his arms.

"Can I join?"

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milliesfishes · 24 days

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The Ocean

[fem reader] contains: academic rivals to lovers, mentions of drowning, misogyny, reader is mentioned as being thin and blue eyed. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) Coriolanus Snow and you have been competing for the Academy's top spot for a long time, and when you're paired up for a group project, he's certain it'll be disastrous. But when he finds he misjudged his pretty rival, he wonders if he ever hated you at all. author’s note: this one's been bouncing around in my head for a long time, hope you like it! Pinterest Board

There is nothing Coriolanus Snow despised more than group projects.

He much preferred to work solo, unburdened by another person's input. Being by himself, working on an assignment in a way he knew would get him a good grade was pure bliss.

But Professor Cicero just had to assign partners.

And she just had to pair him up with you.

He despised you, with your rich, high up family and your charm and your effortless good grades. You and him had been vying for the top spot in your class for years. It was infuriating how perfect you were, how everyone seemed to love you.

Now, sitting at your desk in the grand house you occupied with your aunt, he decided to grit his teeth and get through it. You were lying on your back on your bed, head hanging over the edge, hair touching the floor the guidelines for the project: an oral presentation and individual essays on the importance of the Hunger Games.

You were in a pretty little white sundress and he was still in his Academy uniform, not having had the time to go home and change. Another reason to be infuriated at you- the luxuries you had that he did not.

"Are you going to take this seriously?" Coriolanus huffed, crossing his arms as he watched you read. Your relaxed demeanor annoyed him- this project was important.

"Just give me a minute," you said, not taking your eyes off the paper. "I want to make sure I understand this correctly."

"What is there to understand?" He looked down at his shoes, impatiently waiting for you do be done. "It seemed straightforward to me."

"Okay, okay," you laughed a little, rolling over onto your stomach and setting the paper to the side, your pretty blue eyes fixed on him now. "Since you've clearly been thinking about it for awhile, what do you think we should be writing about?"

He sat up straight in his chair. Finally, he'd be able to take charge. "The Games' purpose is to punish the districts for the actions of the rebels. We should spend the bulk of the assignment talking about that."

You bit your lip, eyes cast to the side as you thought about it, nodding. "...Yeah. Yeah that's good."

Coriolanus recognized your slight skepticism, and he scowled lightly. "What, that isn't good enough for you?"

"No, no it's good!" you clarified, smiling a little and nodding quickly to punctuate. "It's just...it's a little textbook, don't you think?"

He stared at you for a moment, astonished that you'd dared to contradict him. He'd never had a partner call him out on any of his ideas before, but then again he'd never been paired up with you.

The worst part of it all was that you looked so innocent, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. The earnestness of your expression caught him off guard.

Coriolanus gave you a sharp look. "And did you have a better idea?"

You tilted your head to the side, looking away for a moment as you thought. "Well, if we want to get a good grade, we need to play to Professor Cicero's interests. And one thing I know for sure about her is how much she enjoys perspectives that are a little bit twisted."

"I've just done that with my idea," Coriolanus argued, annoyance building up. "The idea of punishment is one she touches on a lot in her lectures."

"But it's overused," you said calmly. "I'd bet every other group is going to do the same thing."

"Because it's literally the point of the Games," Coriolanus sighed, rubbing his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"We don't have to word it like that though," you said, sitting up fully, your knees tucked underneath you.

"So what do you suggest we do?" he asked sarcastically. He was prepared to scoff at whatever your better, more complex idea was.

You were quiet for a minute, and he could practically hear you thinking. Then you fixed your bright blue stare back on him. "I say we talk about how the Games benefit the Capitol, particularly the government. It's like you said, they're to punish the districts, but how exactly?"

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, not admitting he was a little intrigued.

"The Games strip away the tributes' humanity," you continued, leaning back on your hands. "They show the most raw, primal form of human being. The Capitol does that on purpose. It's meant to show everyone watching what they would be without the government. Hungry, helpless murderers. And it scares the districts into submission, whether they realize it or not. It's basic socio-political ethics, really."

...

He was floored. All this had come from you? And you'd said it so casually, so thoughtfully that it'd come off as modest. He was still staring at you, but now it was for a different reason. Coriolanus was in awe.

Of course he'd always known you were smart, but he didn't know you were this smart. This wasn't regurgitated notes or passages, this was a true, thought out idea.

"Coriolanus?" you tilted your head, moving so your legs were hanging over the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

He'd been in a daze, but he snapped out of it. "I'm fine."

"What do you think?" You almost looked nervous. It was almost laughable to him that you were worried your brilliant idea would fall flat with him. It was cute, really.

He cursed himself for thinking that last part.

"It's good," he said, keeping his tone even. "Let's use it."

"Really?" A smile broke across your face like the sun breaking through the clouds, and he couldn't help the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly at how happy you seemed that he'd liked it.

"Really," he nodded, squashing the smile away. "It's...it's good."

You bounced a little in your seat, and there was another thing he couldn't help- how adorable he found you.

Suddenly he was noticing all sorts of things about you. The way your hair fell like a curtain on your cheeks when you leaned forward. Your white dress hem riding up centimeters on your smooth thighs, making your legs look long and slender.

Now he was imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. And now he was angry at himself.

"Right. Should we start writing the essay portion?" Coriolanus cleared his throat and asked.

"Sure," you said, reaching for your notebook and pen. His eyes lingered on you a little longer before he turned to face the desk and started to write.

The entire time he was distracted. His opinions were unraveling and reforming into different things. He'd thought you pretentious, but you were clever. And now he was wondering if the rivalry between the two of you was ever even a rivalry at all. Now that he thought about it, you'd certainly never treated him like it was. Your naturally sweet personality had held true during every interaction you'd had with him.

So it hadn't been a rivalry, he realized. Only petty jealousy on his part. And now that he thought about it, attraction.

Coriolanus' paper was becoming increasingly un-well written as he couldn't take his mind off you. His word usage was sloppy, and his thoughts were hardly articulate. Oh well, he thought. It was still better than what some of his borderline illiterate classmates would turn in.

He heard you sit up, and your soft footsteps came up behind him. He could smell your perfume, a familiar scent he'd never found arousing before.

"Are you almost done?" you asked sweetly.

"Ah, yes. Yes I'm finished," Coriolanus said, hurriedly sitting up and shuffling his papers.

You leaned against the desk and he looked at you, finding you angelic as you bit your lip. "Will you read mine? I want to make sure it's good enough."

He nodded, the scent of you putting his head in a spin. He couldn't have said no to you even if he'd wanted to.

You handed the paper over to him, and he read it, his mind able to think clearly when he was reading your words.

It was incredible. No other word for it. The way you wrote was poetic, but it also held the hand of logic, keeping the topic (your brilliant idea) the main focus. It was an essay for artists. Normally he'd find it ridiculous but there was something about knowing you'd written it that made it perfect.

Coriolanus didn't want to articulate this to you, so he simply handed the paper back to you. "It's...it's good."

His words were simple, but she smiled even wider. "You think so?"

"Of course," he said, lips twitching again. "You're a talented writer."

He was itching to be the cause of that smile, and it worked. You lit up immediately. "Thank you Coriolanus."

You stood up straight, but he didn't want you to leave his side. "Will you read mine?"

Nodding eagerly, you took the papers from in front of him. He semi-regretted the decision to ask you to read it because this paper was not his best work, but he figured it would be fine.

Your face was serene as you read, the little smile you'd acquired not leaving. Shifting where you were standing, you absentmindedly shifted toward him, and before he knew it you were in his lap, sitting across his thighs.

His breath hitched, but you didn't notice, continuing your reading. You shifted comfortably in his lap, and looked up at him as you finished the paper, smiling. It seemed to him all you ever did was smile, and he didn't mind it one bit.

"I like it," you said honestly, searching his eyes. "Professor Cicero will definitely love it."

"I don't know about that," Coriolanus laughed lightly.

"She likes everything you do," you smiled again, nudging his shoulder. "It's me she has a problem with."

"That's not true," he said automatically, but as he thought about it, he knew it was. Professor Cicero's favoritism of him was one of the ways he'd been able to feel triumph over her over the years. Here was the one teacher who hadn't fallen for her charm. But now he mourned it.

"She doesn't like anything I do," you shrugged. "But maybe with you as my partner she will." That last hint of optimism seemed to cheer you up a bit. You got off his lap and he wished you'd stayed.

"Perhaps," Coriolanus mused, thinking about it.

His thoughts were interrupted by your bedroom door opening. Your aunt stuck her head in, smiling at him before addressing you. "Dearest, Festus is here to see you."

Coriolanus went into defense. Festus? Festus Creed? The most pretentious, stuck-up snob in their grade was here to see you?

You thanked your aunt and she left, shutting the door behind her. Now you were smoothing your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were primping yourself to go visit with Festus Creed?

"Festus Creed?" he inquired politely, trying to quell the raging jealousy within him.

You gave him a sheepish half smile. "Yeah. He comes to see me a couple times a week."

Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared. He might've even secretly triumphed that his two least favorite people were taking each other off the market. But now he was disturbed by the idea.

"Are you...together?" he asked, hating that he sounded interested.

"No," you laughed a bit. "Not in the slightest. He'll probably move on to some other girl soon. I just entertain to be polite."

Coriolanus doubted it. Even when he'd hated you he'd known you were the most sought-after girl in your class. Festus was one who liked to have the best, and he likely wouldn't stop until you were his.

"Ah," he pretended to be okay with it.

"I'd better get down there," you said apologetically. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"No, I'd better head home," Coriolanus said, standing up and putting his things in his bag. He didn't want to stay up here while you were downstairs chatting with Festus Creed.

"I'll walk you out," you offered, and he followed you out the door.

You walked gracefully, holding the banister with one hand and the other holding your skirt. "I think it'll go well. Our presentation."

He agreed. "It will."

"Tomorrow if we just go through the basic points I think we'll get a good grade," you said as the two of you stopped at the front doors. "That and our essays will impress Professor Cicero, I just know it."

Your enthusiasm only made you more endearing to him. He gave you a quick smile and nodded, trying to maintain the cool demeanor that was slipping more every second he spent with you. "I believe it."

The two of you shared a look. You were smiling sweetly. His lips were parted slightly, hand on the strap of his satchel. In that moment he felt so...strongly towards you. It was like a magnet, an unstoppable natural force that called him to you...

But he couldn't act on it. Not now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly, giving you a quick smile.

"You got it," you said, nudging his shoulder. And then you were gone. Off into the sitting room where Festus was waiting for the privilege of your company.

He breathed easy once he was out the door. You had a strange effect on him, one in which he felt confused, but he also liked it. You were effervescent, nearly magical to him.

Coriolanus took in a breath, then started on his way home. He was going to shut the door to his room and read whatever love poetry he could get his hands on, in the hopes one of them could make him smile like you did.

The next day, you were shaky with nerves.

Coriolanus had never seen you like this. You were always such a ray of sunshine, so excited to even exist, it seemed. But today your knee was bouncing up and down, your lip was pinched between your teeth, and your fists squeezed tight.

The presentations dragged through the class period. The two of you were set to go last, and Coriolanus both praised and cursed Professor Cicero for that. Yours was set to be the best presentation, but it also meant your nerves were going to stew the longer you waited.

As another pair started their oral report, Coriolanus reached out and took your hand, squeezing it softly. Almost immediately, your body went still. You looked up at him, with that irresistible doe eyed gaze, and he melted.

"It's okay," he murmured, squeezing your hand. It was like someone else had taken residency in his brain. This gesture felt so out of character, but so right. To be here, comforting you... he found there was nowhere he'd rather be.

A little smile came to your face. You looked surprised, but you didn't push him away. He held your hand through this presentation, and the next. And then it was your turn.

You let go of his hand, and he reluctantly stood up, following you to the front of the room, setting yourselves under the judgmental gaze of Professor Cicero.

She nodded, the signal to begin. Coriolanus watched you take a deep breath and start to speak.

He marveled at your skill. You had been so nervous before, but nobody would have known it. Your voice was clear, your words eloquent. You spoke in the same way you wrote, he noticed. Poetic and pleasing to the ear, but not without point.

Coriolanus contributed his part as well, but his mind was far from the project. Him from yesterday would have kicked him, but he didn't care. He was completely and utterly captivated by you.

The presentation concluded, and you both turned to Professor Cicero for evaluation. He watched you hold your breath nervously.

"An excellent presentation," Professor Cicero assessed, giving you both a nod.

Your smile lit up your face, and you fidgeted with your hands excitedly. Coriolanus wanted to pull you into him and kiss you senseless.

Professor Cicero rifled through the papers of your essays, then looked up again. "The ideas presented are unique. A fresh take on the purpose of the Games."

Your excitement was growing, as was Coriolanus' need to hold you. He tried to gather himself. "Thank you, Professor Cicero."

"This was clearly well thought out," Professor Cicero continued, setting the papers down. She looked at him. "Mr. Snow? Were these your ideas?"

He froze. You turned to him expectantly, that little smile on your face. And before he knew it, the automatic academic instinct in him took over and the words were flying out of his mouth. "Yes. They were mine."

Instantly, a wave of regret washed over him. Your face fell, the smile completely disappearing from your face.

Professor Cicero took no notice, dismissing them to sit down. He kept his eyes on you, mind racing. Oh he'd really done it now. He'd gone and ruined everything.

As the both of you sat down, he barely heard Professor Cicero's closing remarks, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You sat up straight, eyes determinedly focused on the front of the class.

Professor Cicero dismissed the class, and you stood up instantly, leaving before he could say a word. Coriolanus picked up his bag and moved to follow you, but a voice called from the front of the class.

"Mr. Snow?" Professor Cicero beckoned. "A word?"

Oh no. She'd found him out. She knew he'd taken credit from you. He walked slowly to her desk, like he was marching to his death.

"I just wanted to tell you again what a wonderful presentation you gave today," Professor Cicero smiled, folding her arms on the desk. "You always do a wonderful job in my class, but the thoughts you presented were exceptional."

"Thank you," he said, a little stiffly. The guilt was festering inside him.

"And being paired with Miss Kennedy?" Professor Cicero referred to you. "How did that go?"

"It was...it was good," he confirmed, thinking about the time you'd spent together yesterday and feeling the smallest of smiles come to him. "She's a good partner."

"I'm glad you were able to keep her in check," Professor Cicero nodded. "Miss Kennedy is an accomplished student, to be sure, but her ideas can be a bit...radical. I thought it best for the two of you to be paired up so you could ground her a little."

He was floored, his eyes widening a little. "I wouldn't say radical. She's brilliant."

"For someone of her status, I suppose," Professor Cicero leaned back in her seat. "But girls like her aren't meant to be scholars."

Girls like her...radical...oh no.

He felt dazed and upset. Professor Cicero's prejudice against you hadn't been exaggerated.

"Anyway, an excellent job once again," Professor Cicero said casually, waving her hand as if she hadn't just brazenly insulted the smartest girl in school. "You're dismissed."

Coriolanus left the room feeling worse than he had before. There was a heroic amount of guilt blocking out his other senses. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, what he'd done.

He spotted you at the end of the hall, speaking with another boy in your class. You looked so beautiful, the afternoon sun spilling through the windows and lighting up your silhouette. The boy you were talking to patted your shoulder and left. You turned around to start walking, but then spotted Coriolanus.

Standing there for a second, he wondered how he should apologize. Groveling maybe? But before he could approach you, you turned on your heel and left, heading out the double doors of the school.

He didn't think about it, he just followed you, briskly walking in the same direction and nearly sprinting down the stairs to catch up.

You must have heard him, but you ignored him, keeping your pace. Coriolanus managed to catch up, nearly out of breath. "Can I explain-?"

"What is there to explain?" you kept your eyes straight ahead.

"I want to apologize," he tried, wanting you to stop, but you didn't.

"For what? For stealing my credit?" you clutched the strap of your bag, trying to walk ahead. "I'd rather not hear it."

"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

"No, you shouldn't have," you turned a corner.

Coriolanus followed you. "I acted impulsively-"

"You did, didn't you?" Suddenly you stopped, turning to face him. "You stole my ideas, after I told you that Professor Cicero doesn't take me seriously. You knew that and you did it anyways."

He was silent, letting your words sink in.

You took a step toward him. "What did she say to you? Professor Cicero. I heard her call you back."

His lips parted, surprised. He didn't want to tell you.

"What did she say Coriolanus?" you insisted, your tone firmer than he'd ever heard it.

"She said we did a great job," he said honestly, withholding the rest.

"What else?" you questioned. He cursed your intellect.

"She...said she was glad I was able to keep you in check," he said reluctantly.

You nodded, looking down, your expression hurt, but not surprised. "Let me guess. She said something about how my work is usually far-fetched, and it's probably the best a girl with my background can do."

He was silent, but you must have gathered that you were correct from his expression, because you nodded once, looking like you were about to cry, and turned away, folding your arms over yourself.

Coriolanus felt horrible. He ached to take you into his arms and comfort you for the cruel words Professor Cicero had wrongfully directed at you.

"My ideas are too radical until you have them, is that it?" you said softly.

"Please-" he started.

"The worst part is, you didn't even need to do it," you turned to look at him, and his heart broke. There were tears in your eyes, a stark contrast to how he'd ever seen you before. "What you contributed was good. It would have gotten you the same grade. But you just had to steal what I did."

Every word of what you'd said was correct. You'd always had a gift for hitting things right on the nose. Even though he knew he'd messed up, let his idea of a rivalry ruin things, he wanted to make it right.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words earnest.

You pursed your lips, looking at your shoes, still on the verge of tears. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"Let me walk you home," he offered, taking a step toward you.

You inhaled softly. "I'm not going home." Looking back up at him, your other hand found the strap of your bag. "I'll see you later."

He frowned a bit as you started walking, hurrying to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," you said briskly, turning another corner, down an alleyway. Coriolanus hadn't realized you'd were walking at the edge of the city until he saw the line of trees. You were headed for the woods.

"Wait, where are you going?" Coriolanus called, hurrying along beside you. You both crossed the border, stepping from concrete to grass.

"You don't need to follow me," you said, following the forest path.

He trailed behind you, concern growing by the second. "It's not safe out here. There are rebels in the woods."

"I've never come across any," you said simply, ducking under a tree branch.

"You've been out here before?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Yes," you moved gracefully through a patch of grass.

He paused for a second, trying to let that information make sense to him. When it didn't, he continued on, eyeing the gray sky. "It's about to rain."

You stopped, turning to him. "You don't need to follow me. I'm fine."

"It's not safe," he insisted as a raindrop fell on his cheek.

"Go home, Coriolanus," you sighed, turning away and continuing your walk. You ventured off the path, into a patch of trees.

"You can't just go off into the woods by yourself," he huffed, not listening to you. The rain was falling steadily now, and the two of you were quickly getting soaked. He didn't know how far into the woods you were, but it was certainly nowhere near the city.

"You don't say?" you said sarcastically.

"Will you just-" he grabbed your arm, pulling you to turn around. It was pouring rain. Your clothes and hair were soaked, as were his. You looked angelic. The sight of you made him forget what he had originally intended to say.

You stared at him, not pulling your arm away. He looked sincere, worried about you.

"The place I go isn't too far from here," you said quietly. "We can dry off and warm up there."

He pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn't like he knew how to get back from here anyway.

You led him through the grove, parting the leaves of a willow to reveal a little cottage tucked between the trees. He grew more confused by the minute.

"Where are we?" he asked, studying the cottage. It was small, but charming, obviously well kept.

Not answering, you ran your hands along the cracks of the cobblestones, seemingly searching for something. At last, you pulled a key out, unlocking the door. You went inside, leaving it open. Coriolanus hesitantly peered inside, seeing you kneel at a little fireplace, striking a match.

Holding up the little burning stick, you turned your head to face him briefly. "Are you coming?"

He remembered himself, coming inside and shutting the door behind him, setting his school bag beside yours. The cottage only had one room, lined with cabinets on one end and bookshelves on the other. The fireplace you were kneeling at was situated in the center of the room.

Cautiously, Coriolanus knelt beside you. You took off your jacket, folding it neatly to the side. Then you started to unbutton your shirt, and he tilted his head. "What are you doing?"

"We'll catch cold if we stay in our wet clothes," you said, sliding your shirt over your shoulders. He felt his breath quicken at the sight of your bra, a modest, white thing edged with lace, a tiny bow in the middle. You didn't seem to notice this, nodding at him. "Go on, take them off. We can let them dry for awhile."

He'd forgotten how kind you were. Even in your anger with him you were concerned for his well-being. With that thought in mind, Coriolanus stripped himself of his clothes, folding them beside yours. Your underwear matched your bra.

You warmed your hands by the fire, shivering. He noticed your damp skin, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders and back. Coriolanus himself was cold, but he was warming up quickly. You on the other hand were shaking, your thin body not retaining much heat.

He pursed his lips, then opened his arms. "Come here."

You looked over at him, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You'll get warmer faster," he insisted, knowing this to be true, but also secretly giddy at the idea of holding you.

Shaking your head, you looked back at the fire. "I couldn't, I-"

"Please," he said softly, eyes earnest as he looked at you. "I know you're still upset, but I don't want you to freeze."

Sighing, you looked down, considering. Another cold shudder shaking your body made the decision for you. Reluctantly, you crawled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. His skin was warm, and you couldn't help leaning into him. It was simply too cold, and he was being too kind.

"Better?" he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

"Yes," you admitted. Your hand found a place on his chest as you settled against him. Coriolanus hesitantly moved his hand up to the back of your head, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. You welcomed the change, sighing softly as his body warmed you right up.

He debated saying something, then decided for it. "I...I am sorry. Truly. For what I did. It is inexcusable, as you said. You confided in me and I wasn't sensitive to it."

You were quiet during his apology, and you looked up at him, chin on his shoulder. Your eyes were soft, and you just looked at him for a moment before the corners of your mouth lifted just slightly. "Thank you for apologizing."

"Don't thank me for anything," he murmured, holding your gaze. "I've been cold to you for so long, and you didn't even do anything wrong."

"I understand feeling threatened," you said, lifting your chin from his shoulder. "But it still hurt. Especially when..." you trailed off, looking down. "I thought we were friends. Since yesterday, anyways."

"Right," he murmured, looking down. He tried to ignore his feelings, but having you pressed right against him in this state of undress made things hard. "I suppose I always felt...threatened, in a way by you. Things always seemed to come so naturally to you, especially academically. I fooled myself into thinking we had a rivalry."

"I don't know if I ever thought of it that way," you leaned your head on his shoulder once again. "I just knew you did as well as I did."

"In school perhaps," he mused, resting his head against yours. "But it's not just that. You're successful in the Capitol's social graces as well."

"Well, that has not always come so easily," you laughed a little.

"What do you mean?" Coriolanus secured his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you warmed up. "You've been doing this for most of your life, haven't you?"

You shook your head, and he looked down at you. "You haven't?"

"I didn't live in the Capitol my whole life," you said, meeting his eyes. "Moved here when I was...oh I must have been eleven or so."

"Ah." He hadn't known that. "And where did you live before then?"

"Not terribly far from here. It was by the ocean." You turned your head to look into the fire. "My favorite place."

"You lived there with your...aunt?" Coriolanus guessed, remembering the older lady from the day before.

"With my parents," you smiled. "And my sister."

"Sister?" He hadn't known you had a sister. Usually the siblings of the Capitol were presented into society together, especially the women.

"Yes. Margaret," you looked up at him, blue meeting blue. "She was the best."

"Margaret," he tested the name out, hoping he could find it as sweet as you did. He did. "Does she live close?"

"I don't know," you said plainly.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

"She left a long time ago," your smile was a little sad now. "I was nine. I haven't seen her since."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his hand on your shoulder absentmindedly stroking up and down. Though not in the same circumstances, he knew the pain of losing someone close.

"It's alright," you said, your head falling back on his shoulder. "I just hope she's happy."

"Did your parents go with her?" Coriolanus asked, before realizing he might be prying. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no," you assured him, reaching over and squeezing his other hand. "It's alright."

Your touch had a profound effect on him. He half smiled, eyes on your beautiful face as you continued.

"Like I said, we lived by the ocean." Your eyes were hazy with nostalgia, the light of the fire reflecting in them. The rain was pounding against the roof, the sound seeming to calm you. "In a little cottage on the beach. Me and my parents and Margaret."

He nodded, fingers still tracing your shoulder.

"I can't remember why Margaret left," you continued. "But she did, and then it was just me and my parents. One day I was walking on the beach. They were in the water." You paused, looking down at his hand in yours. "There was a current and they drowned."

Coriolanus was silent. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You, the sweetest girl in the whole Capitol, had a trauma buried in your past that he'd have never guessed. And yet here you were in front of him, forgiving and gracious.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago," you said, smiling in a bittersweet way. "It all worked out. My aunt took me in, and she takes care of me."

"No, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," Coriolanus shifted you slightly to face him. "All these years. I've been awful to you and you didn't deserve it. Not one bit. And with everything that happened today..."

"Hey," you sat on your knees, kneeling between his legs. "It's okay. we're okay now. Everything that happened today-" You shook your head. "-it doesn't matter. You've apologized, and I know how sorry you are."

"You're brilliant," he said, taking your face in his hands. The gesture caught you a little by surprise, but you smiled slightly. "Yesterday when we were working on the project...I could see it clearly. You're amazing. Smarter than me..."

You laughed a little at that, leaning your cheek into one of his hands. "Really?"

"Don't rub it in," he murmured, and you laughed again. "But yes. And you're also sweet and caring and...I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"You haven't?" One of your hands came up to grasp his wrist.

"No." Coriolanus shook his head to emphasize. "All these years I thought I hated you. I even admitted I was jealous. But really..."

He paused. He'd started talking without really knowing what he was going to say. So instead, he acted on an impulse and lowered his lips to yours.

Coriolanus' lips molded against yours, touching them softly, hesitantly. Until you started to kiss him back.

At that moment, when you reciprocated, he really started to kiss you. His lips dragged over yours, his thumbs tracing your jawline and bringing you closer. You shivered, not from the cold, but form the way he was touching you, holding you like something precious, something delicate.

The kiss broke off, and your eyes went back and forth between his, smiling slowly. As you did, his lips ghosted softly over yours once, then twice before he opened his eyes.

"You like me now?" you breathed, eyes bright.

"More than like you." His thumb roved over your cheekbone. He was smiling too. "Definitely more than like you."

You let out a little laugh of disbelief, your head falling against his chest. He hugged you close to him, kissing the top of your head. Contently, the two of you laid there for awhile, the fire warming you right up.

When you'd decided you were warm enough, you lifted your head, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before looking over at the door. You frowned. "Did you shut the door all the way?"

"I don't think we need to worry about anyone walking in on us," he muttered, trailing kisses down your neck.

"No." You nudged him off you, standing up. He followed you to the door, watching as you twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. "The door gets stuck when it rains."

"Let me try," he offered. You stepped aside, and he pulled at the handle to no avail. "Ah, I see."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "I should have told you before you came in...now we're gonna be stuck here all night."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he mused, arms wrapping around your waist. "It's not like we'll freeze."

"But we- ugh." You gave up, leaning back against him. "I don't know how I could have possibly forgotten."

"It'll be alright," he soothed, rubbing your back. "And besides, now we like each other." Coriolanus smirked slightly. "Whatever will we do all night?"

You laughed, letting him tug you back to the fire, where you remained cuddled in his arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning the rain had stopped, and the two of you redressed in your clothes, opening the door with ease and walking out into the forest.

Coriolanus couldn't help his smile as he looked down at you, bringing your fingers to his lips as you walked back to the city.

Hand in hand.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #president snow #milliesfishes snow #Spotify

87 notes · View notes

viviennevermillion · 1 year

Text

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand.

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion.

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter.

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though.

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want.

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day.

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iovebarca · 2 months

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Healing Touches - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: this is my first time writing so im genuinely so sorry if this sucks😭 + my first language isnt english so im also sorry if there are any mistakes with spelling and grammar 🥲

WC: 500+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), intended lowercase, nothing really just fluff <3

summary: as pau returns home upset from the match, you offer silent support and reassurance. guiding him to solace, you express love and he finds comfort in sleep, knowing you're by his side.

as you anxiously awaited Pau's return home, the weight of the match hung heavy in the air. the room felt emptier, the silence louder, without his usual presence beside you. each tick of the clock seemed to echo the passing moments, prolonging the agonizing wait.

you unfortunately couldn’t be there. uni was taking all of your free time recently. with essays being due and exams needing to be made.

when the door creaked open, the sight that greeted you shattered your heart into little pieces. Pau, usually calm, stood before you with tears staining his cheeks, shoulders slumped in defeat. with a pang in your chest, you rushed to his side, enveloping him in a warm embrace. one of your hands left his back to the back of his head, stroking his hair. the faint smell of grass and sweat lingered on his clothes, a strong reminder of what he just came home from.

words seemed inadequate in the face of his pain, so you simply held him tight, offering silent support and understanding. after guiding him to the shower to wash away the weight of his emotions and letting him change into fresh clothes, meanwhile you prepared a comforting snack. “hey” he mumbled. “hey” you paused “let’s get into bed, cuddle and watch some netflix while we eat a snack”

with a tray in hand, you led him to the bed, the soft blankets beckoning like a sanctuary of solace amidst the chaos of the day. there, you wrapped him in a gentle embrace, offering the warmth of your presence.

you understood intuitively that words would fall short in the face of his pain, so you chose the language of touch instead. with each hug, each tender kiss pressed to his forehead, you conveyed a depth of understanding and support that meant more than any words could ever do. and in the quiet moments of solace, as you held him close and whispered words of love and reassurance, you knew that sometimes, the most powerful comfort comes not from words, but from the unwavering presence of someone who cares.

as you held him close, you felt the tension slowly recede from his body. his breathing, once jagged with the weight of his emotions, began to synchronize with yours, a silent symphony of shared solace. with each passing moment, the lines of strain in his face softened.

pau's voice, soft and heartfelt, broke the silence. "thank you for always being there for me," he murmured. your own emotions swirled in response. holding him close, you brushed a gentle kiss against his temple before murmuring softly, "you don't have to thank me, pau. being here for you is the most natural thing in the world for me."

feeling the weight of your words, pau lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of love and gratitude. "we're in this together, through every high and every low," you continued, your voice steady with conviction. "I love you, and I'll always be by your side, no matter what." and a soft kiss was exchanged between the two.

after your tender exchange, pau's eyelids grew heavy with the weight of the day's emotions. as the tranquility of your shared moment enveloped you both, you felt the steady rhythm of his breathing gradually slow, his body surrendering to the embrace of sleep.

with a soft smile playing on your lips, you adjusted the blankets around him, ensuring his comfort as he drifted into peaceful slumber. gazing upon his peaceful expression, you couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of the human spirit. how even in the darkest of moments, love had the power to heal and to mend.

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x reader #cu cu cubarsi #cubarsi #fc barcelona #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi oneshot #football

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cleolinda · 10 months

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(For our purposes, listen to it without the visuals first.)

I wasn't going to keep posting about Unreal Unearth, but something happened yesterday.

It's been five months since I first heard this song, and I'm still astonished by it. You know the tiktok skit about the Star Wars wedding music, and the guy is grooving along until the Imperial Death March filters in, and then he's kind of alarmed, like, wha—? And then he realizes it slaps anyway and he keeps dancing? That is "Eat Your Young."

It's the morning of March 17th. The EP with the first three singles from the new album has dropped. I've got my phone blasting the song on the bathroom counter, I don't understand half what the man is saying nor did I expect to, I'm cheerfully mumbling along in the shower, grooving along,

wait they did what for a war drum

Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

What the fuck, this song goes so hard. That's the chorus. The conceit of the whole album is that it loosely follows Dante's Inferno, so this is the third circle of hell, gluttony. Hozier himself says that he wasn't specifically thinking of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal—

“I don’t know how intentional the reference to Jonathan Swift was in this. That essay [Swift’s 1729 satirical essay A Modest Proposal in which he suggests the Irish poor sell their children as food] is such a cultural landmark that it’s just hanging in the air. I was more reflecting on what I felt now in this spirit of the times of perpetual short-term gain and a long-term blindness. The increasing levels of precarious living, poverty, job insecurity, rental crisis, property crisis, climate crisis, and a generation that’s inheriting all of that and one generation that’s enjoyed the spoils of it. The lyrics are direct, but the voice is playful. There’s this unreliable narrator who relishes in this thing which was fun to write.” [Apple Music album notes]

—and I believe him. The song's not a suggestion, a proposal; it's an invitation to atrocity in progress. I also believe he probably wasn't thinking of Greta Thunberg's iconic speech at the UN Climate Action Summit, not specifically, but that's what I hear in the song, like the flip side of a coin:

You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words. And yet I'm one of the lucky ones. People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth. How dare you! [...] You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency. But no matter how sad and angry I am, I do not want to believe that. Because if you really understood the situation and still kept on failing to act, then you would be evil.

I feel like on some level, even coincidentally, "Eat Your Young" is the answer to the question, what would you sound like if you were that evil? Who would you be? I can think of a dozen possibilities just off the top of my head or looking around my blog, from something as petty as studio executives mangling trees to deprive striking workers of shade (while hoping they lose their homes), all the way up to the US school-to-prison pipeline. The National Rifle Association keeps politicians in its pocket while the US has more mass shootings than days in a year, Nestlé fucks shit up around the world as a way of life, even ChatGPT sucks up water while threatening jobs—and for what? And yet, I promise you most of these things weren't the inspiration for an Irishman’s song—some of them hadn't even happened yet. There's just that much fresh You Would Be Evil to go around. I am certain that Hozier wrote the song partly about (as one article puts it) "Ireland's housing crisis: Millennials, a generation sacrificed," given that time back in the day when he helped occupy a building—a housing crisis happening in multiple countries. There's so much of the world I'm not touching on. I can stuff a paragraph with links and it's utterly inadequate.

I haven't even mentioned war.

There's an overwhelming sense this decade of the future being fed into a meat grinder. That sense is in this song. What would it sound like to be in the head of someone who didn't give a shit about anything but profit? Well, it might sound like this.

And if you haven't heard it, well—I'm going to sound absolutely out of my mind after saying all that, but "Eat Your Young" has a beat and you can dance to it. It's sexy. And I'm certain that's on purpose. You get seduced into the sound of it, as if by something demonic, something that enjoys sucking down the future and is not going to stop. And the sheer fucking catchiness of the song keeps you listening to it—thinking about it—when maybe you push away the dry headlines we get everyday. If you let this song stay in your head, it becomes a lens. Five months later, I still think about it when I read the news. Maui was on fire and tourists stayed. Within days, the prospect of developers swooping in to buy up land reared its head. If there's something still to take, there is ground to break, whatever's still to come. Get some.

I was born in 1978 —I'm late Gen X. In my forties, I'm young enough to worry about the future still; I’m neither so rich that I can just plan to retire to Mars, nor so old that I can know I'll be safely gone before the world might go up in flames. But I'm also not my nephew, whose school year just started back up, or the neighborhood kids who race him home down the sidewalk in the afternoons. Yesterday, he had his very first mass-shooter lockdown drill. He’s six.

I think music can put the feeling back into numb fingers, and I think that's why "Eat Your Young" works so well—Hozier calls the song fun and playful, and I think you have to have that, something you can live with rather than just switch off for your own mental survival. We need music to feed spirit at protests; we need something to keep our feet moving. Don’t give up, don't close your eyes and slip away. Those kids, they have dreams we could try to steal back for them.

Since I mentioned Maui:

Why Hawaiian sovereignty has undeniable context for the Maui fires

The Climate Crisis and Colonialism Destroyed My Maui Home. Where We Must Go From Here

How You Can Donate and Help Support Maui Communities Right Now

The Maui Strong Fund

#music #music discussion #hozier #long post #eat your young #Spotify

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realtasagartach · 3 months

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The Subtle Abuse and Manipulation in Hazbin Hotel

TW: Discussions of abuse, manipulation, and parental alienation

(Alt: The Completely Unnecessary Dick-Measuring Contest Between Two Idiots With Too Much Pride)

Hazbin Hotel has recently released its first season, and I have observations. There are quite a few things I can write about, but I’m going to focus on the fifth episode, “Dad Beat Dad” and its insert song, “Hell’s Greatest Dad” and how completely unnecessary this competition was. But also about something I don't see talked about enough.

The episode opens with Charlie freaking out over why the hotel isn’t working, and Vaggie suggests getting help from her father. Charlie is initially resistant to the idea but perks up at the thought of asking him to get her a meeting with Heaven.

Here, we meet Lucifer. And honestly, I appreciate Lucifer’s depiction in this. He’s awkward, goofy, and “Take that depression” had no right to be that relatable. I’ve read enough about how Lucifer can’t relate to his daughter because his guilt for giving free will bogged down his consciousness. And we see this very clearly in his songs. In “Hell’s Greatest Dad”, he offers Charlie to give her lavish material things and “rig the game because [he’s] the ref”. Peak “I don’t understand another’s feelings, so I’ll supplement it with material objects” kind of transactional relationship, despite Charlie wanting to connect to him on a more personal and emotional level. Something that they achieve in their second song, “More Than Anything”.

But that’s where my analysis of Lucifer will end. For now.

I’d like to focus on Alastor in this essay. Alastor comes into the episode as everyone is getting the hotel ready for Lucifer’s visit, then introduces himself with instant passive-aggression and, “You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast”. To which Lucifer says, “Nope!” insults him right back, and we get Alastor’s first swear word on this show. Hilarious.

Now, it’s clear as day that Alastor’s part in the song was just to get under Lucifer’s skin. Vivziepop even confirmed this and that Alastor doesn’t actually see Charlie as a daughter. (This video at 3:50)

Side Note: The line where Alastor tells Charlie, “You could almost call me ‘Dad’” was the creepiest part of Alastor’s character for me. I’ve had guys try that with me before, which brought up bad memories.

But this entire sequence was more than irritating Lucifer just because he didn’t know who he was. Charlie is very much a sentimental person who likes buzzwords and talking about feelings rather than material items and power. She’s literally the Princess of Hell and refuses to use her authority because “That’s so meeeaan!!!” But this makes her very naïve and susceptible to manipulations.

I’m saying that Alastor competing against Lucifer is unnecessary because there’s no reason to try and sway Charlie from getting her father’s help. Let’s assume that Alastor knew why Lucifer was there. Alastor is an Overlord. He’s right in between the Sinners and the Ars Goetia in Hell’s hierarchy. And he’s not even the strongest Overlord around. He may be consorting with royalty, but nobody respects them. He’s not gaining any power, especially after his seven-year “sabbatical”. He wants a deal with Charlie for whatever reason, so he helps her with her hotel. But even he can’t get the angels to meet with Charlie, which is what she wants.

Alastor is basically abusing Charlie. There’s emotional manipulation, singing, “I’m your guy, your day-to-day, your chum, your steadfast hotelier” and reminding her how much help he’s been to her. And then there’s the parental alienation and isolation with that “dad” line and that, “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud. They say the family you choose is better”. He’s trying to get Lucifer out of Charlie’s support system and is playing on her “daddy issues” to make her trust her more. These are classic abuse tactics to keep the abuser in power. It's not as in your face as Valentino with Angel Dust, but it's still there if you listen to the song.

As someone who is a victim of parental alienation and manipulation, coupled with what Alastor says in the seventh episode, I’m getting more and more worried for Charlie as the story goes on. I understand that the show wouldn’t have been able to progress without him, but I also wouldn’t put it past Vivziepop to make him the Big Bad.

#writing #essay #hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #manipulation #tw abuse #tw manipulation #analysis #vivziepop

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zozo-01 · 7 months

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"i'm thinkin' how she rides it, if she sits on it. (make it hard for me to stand up.)"

Hello, hello!!! Our lovely @dominimoonbeam wanted a lil moment between university freshman David and Darlin' when Darlin' pierces him and I said, absolutely ma'am give me a couple of months! So here we are, definitely on the more spicy side but I do try my best!!! And I couldn't resist the J. Cole lyric. And thank you to the amazing @cashandprizes for reassuring me that this is as hot as I think it is!!!

CW: University AU, David is a Business Major, Darlin' is a Poli Sci Major, They are both stupid and in love, No Angel and Sam AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Things get heated because piercings, A little bit of accidental grinding of the laps, Praise, ass grabbing, Just a jolly old good time, see domini i can do nice things to darlin, Minors Please Don't Interact, Mayhaps a part two where there will be actual fucking may come soon

click here for the ao3 link!!!

There they were, sitting in the comfortable silence that they have both perfected. There’s no need to speak whenever they’re with him because a glance is all they both need. Eyes spill secrets that lips refuse to speak of, but at the risk of not getting sentimental, David called it their way of telling each other that they should ditch class together. If you had told a sophomore David that his favourite moments were when he was skipping classes that he paid thousands for to spend time with the pack’s resident bad wolf, he’d be convinced you got the wrong man, but here they were.

Darlin’ had messaged him that they weren’t feeling well and wanted to stay home, and David being the good and whipped Beta he was, stayed back to help them. After their inevitable yet futile attempts to send him back to class, they’d relented and pulled out their textbooks. “If you’re going to skip class, then at least let’s be productive.” They sat down, motioning to David to join them on this impromptu study date- nope, nuh uh, he dares not be hopeful and call this a date.

So they sat in the silence that felt familiar and kept glancing at each other to make sure the other was doing ok.

Right now, though, he was doing a whole lot more than glancing. More like gawking at the wolf in front of him. How could he not? They had a tank top on due to the heat, leaving scarred skin and muscle out on display for him. There was a reason everyone fell for Darlin’ at first sight and it wasn’t their dazzling smile or sweet glances. (They’d only show that part of them to the people they trust, and David likes to delude himself into thinking there are some looks that are reserved for him alone.)

David gave up on balancing his accounts and analyzing supply and demand graphs in favour of staring at their pretty face while they look over some policies for an essay. Their eyes rapidly firing between their computer and notebook, scrambling to write down the notes they needed for an essay. It was nice to see them relaxed like this Writing always brought a sense of peace to them. Watching them be able to translate the beautiful and complex ideas in their brain into words that only they could conceive.

Even after all these years, there still wasn’t a detail that went unnoticed by him.

“You got a new piercing?” His eyes stared at the silver piece on their nose. They’d talk about getting a nose piercing for a while now, and now that they’ve gotten it, it fits their face really well.

“Hm?” They ran a hand over their face in an attempt to wipe the tiredness away. “Oh yeah, got that one a couple of weeks ago.” Their eyes went back to their readings, but they continued speaking. “Hurt like a fuckin’ bitch. The lady had to give me shit ton of napkins to stop the blood and the tears.”

He scooted closer to them to take a closer look, fully giving up on his own assignments. “And do your parents know about this one?” He jested, but genuinely curious about their reaction.

They chuckled that infuriatingly soft laugh. “My mom took me to get it done, thank you very much. I’d have to be a real certified fool to think I can hide this from her.” Massaging their temples as a way to motivate them back into writing, they powered on with their essay. Always having more willpower than he could ever dream of.

He smirked, leaning in to whisper in their ear. Just blowing air on their ear was enough to make their breath hitch and body stiffen up. “Does she know about the belly button piercing? Or the tattoo on your thigh?” Both of which he’s had the pleasure of seeing on the nights he and the rest of the pack have gone out partying. Darlin’ would always be late, but the care they took in their outfit and appearance was always worth it. Not that they didn’t look beautiful all the damn time.

Finally putting their notebook down and turning off their laptop, Darlin’ turned towards him with a cocky grin. If they had moved any closer, their lips would have brushed against his. He wondered how soft their lips would be and how their scar would feel. Before he could delve deeper into his own desires, Darlin’ put a finger on his lip.

“You ain’t gonna tell my mama, are ya Davey?” A sultry voice with the rough accent he loved entered his ears, filling up his senses until it was all he could perceive. This was so unfair. It’s not his fault that he has a boring accent. And it was absolutely not his fault Darlin’s accent made his pants tight and heart pound. Very little in this world can make David Shaw blush, but hearing his fellow wolf laying on their accent thick was one of the few events that made his knees weak.

A silent nod was all the wolf needed to lean back and smile like nothing ever happened.

(Darlin’ will always deny two things for the rest of their life. One, their city accent is attractive in any way shape or form. Two, that David Shaw made their heart beat erratically when he smirks and leans in to whisper in their ear.)

Darlin’ got up to stretch their arms and legs, and David made sure to note the way their muscles moved under their skin and the little groans they let out. Oh, he’ll definitely remember those noises later. “I’m gonna grab some water, want some?”

David gave a nod and stood up, also wanting to stretch his limbs after sitting down for too long. And not because he wants to show off his muscles to them. No way.

The two wolves walked towards the kitchen, where David sat on the barstools and Darlin’ went over to the fridge to take out two bottles of water. Whether or not Darlin’ purposely bent over, showing off their ass in those sweatpants was a discussion for another day. Preferably when he is alone and with a hand down his pants. (He would love it for it to be theirs.)

Sipping on his water to try to cool himself down, a thought crosses his mind. He randomly thinks about something Milo and Asher had told him, and he wonders if Darlin’ shared the same sentiment.

“So um, weird question…” His voice trailed off when Darlin’ turned back around and focused their attention on him. Shit, shit. The question was embarrassing enough, but he didn’t truly understand how awkward it was to ask them directly. Or maybe thought he was weird. Or even worse creepy.

He didn’t notice that Darlin’ walked around the kitchen counter, standing in front of him with furrowed brows and head tilted. “Are you ok, David? You seem a lil’ flushed.” They placed their hand on his forehead to make sure his temperature was alright.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just- I wanted to-” He stuttered and stumbled his way to find the right words to ask his deeply odd question, all the while Darlin’ didn’t interrupt him. They just nodded, urging him to take his time to find the proper way to ask. “Milo and Ash mentioned something… About tongue piercings and how good they felt… And uh…” Oh God, please end his suffering so he doesn’t have to live on.

Apparently God decided to further his suffering by making Darlin’ laugh at him. He can’t be too mad since their laugh is so heavenly, but seriously? Come on! He wants them to laugh with him, not at him. He crossed his arms huffed, looking to the side to hide his pouting face.

(Oh my God, Darlin’ would never say it to his face yet, but he looks so much like a puppy when he does that. He needs to stop right now before their heart explodes into a bunch of little wolf bits. And that’s a mess no one wants to clean up. Grim.)

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” They covered their mouth to muffle their laughter. Now hold on, they shouldn’t do that. If they’re doing it to save his dignity, then there’s no point! His dignity is gone so the least they can keep laughing so it’d been worth it.

Clearing their throat and wiping tears from their eyes, they stood up straight to ask the million dollar question on the tip of his tongue.

“David Shaw, are you askin’ me if it feels good to get head from a person with a tongue piercin’?”

When they say it like that, he can see why it was silly that he couldn’t formulate a simple question. But have you considered that this is the wolf he’s been mildly attracted to (in other words, madly in love with) standing in front of him. Considering the attention and interest that they garner from the people around them, it makes it all the more important for him to be on his best behaviour. If he wants to be considered a potential mate, he cannot project any weakness in front of them. And that includes asking questions about sex and sexuality. How can he properly fuck them if he doesn’t know what they like?

He grunts and nods his head. “Yes, that is what I was asking about. Can you give me an answer?” Nice, holding his ground after an embarrassment like that is a good step towards recovery.

Darlin’ raised their eyebrow. “It feels real fuckin’ good.” They smirked, leaning slightly into David’s space. “The cold from the metal just makes me beggin’ for more.” The sultry voice from earlier returns and David fears for his pants durability. They placed a hand on his thigh to push themselves higher to look him in the eye. “Do you want one?”

(It was cool and this is ok. Their banter together, Darlin’s flirting and their touchy habits is just who they are. From the outset, Darlin’ seemed like a person who didn’t want to be touched and for the most part they would be right. They were only like this with the few people they found attractive and their close friends. He had seen them pull the same moves and use the same lines from before. There was nothing special about the things they were doing or saying to him. Maybe they found amusement in the flustered state they reduced him too, but that can be said about anyone else.)

(To Darlin’, this was all a game. But it’s a game he’s willing to play to keep them close to him.)

David scoffed, getting up from the chair and went to grab more water. Was it always this hot at this time in the year? “No, it was just a question,” he replied rapidly, chugging down the water to cool himself off again.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Darlin’ leaning their upper body against the counter, hand holding their face and with a shit-eating grin.

“Aww, what a shame. You’d look hot as shit with one.”

He knows that they’re egging him on. All of this was only to get himself riled up and say something stupid. Or look stupid. It’s the same stuff that got him in so much trouble in high school and he refuses to let it continue now. He’s in university. He’s an adult. So there’s no way some childish instigation would make him say-

“Ok, where can I get one?”

…David Shaw, you dumb bitch.

Darlin’ rolled their eyes. “Ha, ha, I was only kiddin’. There’s no way you’re not lyin’.” When all they were met was silence, their eyes widened. “Holy shit, you’re actually serious. Are you ok? Did you hit your head on the way here?”

“Yes, I am serious and no, I didn’t hit my head.” He crossed his arms defensively. “If you say it’ll be a good look for me, then let’s do it. Where do we have to go?” David was seldom known for his spontaneous attitude, but they always had a way of bringing that impulsive side of him out.

Looking around the room, Darlin’ put their hands behind their back and stretched their arms. “Well I can do it.” They cut David and his concerns and his complaints off with a wave of their hand. “And before you worry, yes I know what I’m doin’, I’ve done it before and you’re in good hands.” They walked to the fridge and pulled out a tequila bottle. David dare not ask where they got it from.

“Here,” they offered the bottle to the baby Alpha. “Take a sip, then go to the bathroom. I got spare toothbrushes under the sink, use one to clean your tongue then meet me out here.” Once David took the bottle, Darlin’ turned to their room to grab something.

Shaking himself out of a daze, he asked, “Wait, what’s the bottle for?” It doesn’t seem like alcohol and piercings should go hand in hand like this.

Darlin’ gave an easy smile and reassured him, “It’s to make sure you don’t feel too much pain. Trust me, it helps.” With a nod, they walked back into the room, leaving David alone in the kitchen.

There were a handful of people David trusted in his life, and there were even fewer that he would trust with something like this. He stared at the bottle, knowing if he drank it, he would be fully committing to this wacky plan. But if he could trust anyone who would hold his life in their hands, gently and with care, it would be Darlin’. So he popped the bottle open and took a sip of the tequila.

He wiped his mouth and walked to the bathroom. It would take a bit before the alcohol takes its course, so he had some time to brush. He opened the bathroom door, looking at himself in the vanity mirror. This was so stupid and so was he when it comes to them. He bent over to the cabinet under the sink, a slight nausea overcoming him. He took the toothbrush out and went along with brushing his teeth and tongue.

Once he spent a good 5 minutes brushing (he cannot have Darlin’ think he has bad breath), he took the mouthwash from the vanity cabinet and swirled it in his mouth. Just a precaution and it never hurts to be safe than sorry. He remembers the pain Asher went through with his infected piercings and he refuses to go through the same.

He could feel the booze hitting his brain, needing to shake his head to keep himself awake. It really is such a miracle that he was such a lightweight at his size. He stumbled back to the living room, looking at the assignments he chose to abandon for a more worthwhile experience. Plopping himself on the couch, he waited for Darlin’ to come back, while letting his head get heavy. Hopefully, Darlin’ will come out before he passes out.

Luckily, Darlin’ entered the living room with latex gloves on their hands and a bunch of needles in their arms. In his drunken stupor, he had to hold back a moan when he saw them. They look so fucking good in those tight sweatpants and that tanktop, and the alcohol made him want to… express his appreciation.

They set their tools on a towel beside David, setting it up for a smooth procedure. “Ok, everythin’ on my end is ready, you done brush your tongue?” He nodded his heavy head and smiled at Darlin’ appreciative ‘yay’. “Good shit. Now, can I sit on your lap?”

Absolutely. Yes. 100%, you will not hear any complaints from him. He may not know why they needed to, but he will gladly let it happen. He thought he hid the confusion in his eyes well, but leave it to Darlin’ to pick at every little expression. “I need a good look at your tongue and sittin’ on your lap makes it easier for me to not fuck up.” That’s a good enough reason for him, so he nodded. Darlin’ thanked him, and gently sat in his lap.

(Darlin’ had done this a billion times before, but sitting in the other person’s lap was something they never needed to do.)

The weight of their body on his lap was heavenly, providing pressure and touch at the right areas. If he was a weaker man, he would have grabbed their hips and started to move them against his crotch. He wonders about how they would act if he grinds up against them. Would they let out breathy moans or shallow groans? Would they be loud or quiet? Would they fight against his hold or let him do whatever he pleased? So many different trains of thought, all of them involving him inside of them, wherever that might be.

He’s begrudgingly heard from other people about how good they are in bed. He wonders if he can put some of those rumours to the test.

“Ok, couple of things before I start,” they said in a stern voice. David widened his fatigued eyes at their tone. “One, you gotta stay still for me. I know it’s gonna hurt, but I don’t wanna mess up the needle placement. And second,” they grabbed his hands and put them on their thighs. “Squeeze them if you’re in pain.” David wonders if he’s in heaven, being able to hold them this close and gripping their thighs. He could feel the tensing and relaxing of their muscles, and he wonders if they’re just as nervous as he is.

With a nod and a quiet whisper, they say, “Good, now open that mouth for me and stick your tongue out.” Not even a second into this and Darlin’s voice is already making him lose his mind. He does what they say, letting them see every little corner of his mouth and tongue. They grabbed his chin and pulled him closer, their eyes examining his tongue.

The nausea from the alcohol mixed with the anxiety of the anticipation and the butterflies Darlin’ gave him made his stomach twist and convulse in the sickets way. He knew he couldn’t move, lest they mess up at his expense, so he does what comes natural to him. David absentmindedly traced the muscles and scars he could feel from over their sweatpants. Trailing his hands from their hips all the way down to their knees and back up. He started off with fleeting touches, ready to back off if they asked him to. But with no objection from the wolf in his lap, he let his touches become firmer. Soft grazes turned into borderline lustful strokes. He could feel the bruises form under his fingertips. He wonders if he can leave bite marks later.

There was a morbid curiosity in him that wonders what would happen if he thumbed their inner thigh. Would they like it? Would they let him trail his hand higher? Questions he desperately needed answers to, but not right now.

His pondering was cut off by Darlin’ shifting to grab some tool, causing them to grind into his lap. The pleasure shot up to his brain and woke David up immediately. This was it. He was a goner. Is he also supposed to keep any sounds in? That’s just cruel and vile.

They help up a tweezer-like to David’s eyes. “This here is a forceps clamp. I’m gonna use it to minimize as much of the bleedin’, ok?” A nod from him prompted Darlin’ to clamp his tongue. It was a weird sensation, but the alcohol made it barely noticeable.

Happy with the placement after checking for the major veins under his tongue, they held his shoulders. “Ok, this is your last chance to back out. Once the needle goes in, I can’t take it out. You still wanna do this?” This should be the time David really reconsiders his decision. Like, does he really want this piercing? Is it even worth it?

“Aww, what a shame. You’d look hot as shit with one.”

He couldn't reply properly on account of the clamp on his tongue, but he let out a string of sounds that sounded like, “Alright, let’s do it.” He clenched his eyes and grasped their thighs with a vice grip. He may have not seen a person get pierced before, but he can imagine how fucking painful a needle through the tongue could be. Sure the tequila would help, but like, needle through the tongue. Ouch.

Sensing the stress from David, Darlin’ placed a hand on his face, thumbing his jaw. “Hey, you’re gonna be alright. I won't lie, it’ll hurt like a bitch, but you’re in good hands, I promise.” They said with such a soft voice, so full of conviction, he thinks that the process would be painless. They moved their hands to his chest, “Just breathe in and out.” Maybe, if he focuses on the fluttery feeling they’re giving him everything will be ok.

When his breathing evened out, Darlin’ gently held his chin with one hand and held the needle with the other. “Dig your nails into me if it gets too much, but don’t move.” With that, they gently began the piercing process and David stopped himself from jerking backwards.

The pain was awful. He had tears in his eyes and body was stiff. The best way he could describe the feeling was as if he could feel every part of the believed pain that comes from morphing from his human form to a wolf. Luckily the tequila helped a little with the pain.

In a delirious state of pain and inebriation, his hands slid up their thighs and to their ass. He needed something with more resistance, fearing that if he kept gripping their thighs, he’d soon draw blood. And also, he’s not going to give up a chance to grab their ass. His fingers dug into his backside, feeling the soft muscles clenching underneath. Darlin’s body stopped for a good micro-second, and they let out a soft moan that David will absolutely be saving for later.

Darlin’ stopped for a moment, hearing the pained whimpers David let out. “Shhh, you’re doing so well,” they whispered. “There’s only a lil’ bit left, you’re almost there.” Their raspy voice mixed with their praise for him had his pants get even tighter. At this point he’s absolutely sure Darlin’ can feel his dick through his jeans, if the quiet moan was any indicator. He’s glad they’re being affected the same way he is.

A few seconds later, he felt the needle exit his tongue, with the piercing replacing it. The worst of the pain was over, hallelujah. They attached the ball at the other end of the piercing. They took their gloves off and kept holding his chin, admiring their handiwork. “You did amazing, David.” Once Darlin’ was satisfied, they got up, heading back to the kitchen.

Oh no, oh no no no no. He has a full on boner and nothing to hide with. He frantically looked around the living room, eyeing the small blanket. David placed the blanket on his lap, letting out a sigh of relief. Now if only Darlin’ could relieve him in other ways.

Darlin came back into the room with some mouthwash, a cup and ice. “Rinse your mouth with this and spit in the cup. It’ll hurt, but you gotta do it,” they said as they handed the cup and mouthwash to him. He did as they said, rinsing his mouth and spitting out blood and mouthwash into the cup. Gross.

“Open your mouth again for me?” There was no hesitation in his action, letting Darlin’ have complete control of him. “You’re such a good boy, Davey. Listenin’ to me so well.” They chuckled at David’s deadpan expression. They took the ice and placed it on the piercing. David groaned at the feeling, the cold ice soothing his swollen tongue. “Oh my David, what a sound.” Kill him now.

They shook their head and their voice got serious. “Some aftercare shit. Wash your mouth with salt water and mouthwash twice a day. No solid food for a couple of days, don’t worry I have soup with me. No smokin’ or alcohol for 2 weeks.” They got closer, leaning over his body, whispering in his ear. “And no oral sex for 4 to 6 weeks, but I’ll be here so you can put that piercing to use.” They leaned back like nothing happened, going back to their ignored assignment.

David can’t wait to wring out every little sound Darlin’ let out. Maybe it will lead to something more.

(Darlin’ spent that night with a hand down their pants, thinking about how David’s new piercing would feel inside them. Maybe they can convince him to get a Jacob’s Ladder next.)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted david #redacted darlin #mdni #teehee #we love a good borderline smut fic hehehehe #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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arthropodwithapen · 5 months

Note

Here's a prompt : tony being , as usual , a helicopter parent and peter getting irritated over it and they have a huge fight , peter tells tony "you are not my dad" and then they stop taling and you know , angst ensues. Cue a mission where tony protects peter while getting hurt in the process and peter calls tony dad and tony calls peter son and then some iron dad spiderson feels that we all love.

Thanx in advance !

Thank you for the prompt!

I give you: a stressed Peter is buried under mountains of school work. Tony is trying his best to help. If at first you don't succeed.. lock yourself in your lab and deal with it later.

Word count - 3925 words

***

Peter didn’t look up from the table when Tony walked in. His head was buried in a book and the other hand was scribbling notes onto a sheet of loose paper.

Tony slid a finger along the table, coming to stand next to him.

“Hello.”

Peter didn’t look up. His pen never stopped scratching on the paper. “Hi.”

Tony took a few small steps until he was stood right behind him, watching him write.

He gave a small chuckle. “Can you even read that? No offence but your handwriting is an atrocity.”

“I don’t have time to be neat,” he mumbled, still scribbling away. “This essay is due in two days and I haven’t even finished reading the book.”

“What is it you’re reading?” Tony made to pick up the book but Peter snatched it out of his reach before he could.

“Hey.”

Tony put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

Peter finally looked up at him. His jaw was set. He looked unimpressed, definitely irritated and Tony had the feeling he was treading on thin ice. He could tell he hadn’t slept well the night before. Maybe a bad day at school too. Something was wrong.

“I’m really busy,” Peter said. “This is, like, essay number seven this week. Do you need something?”

Tony took a risk and settled sideways into the chair next to him, still facing him.

“No, no. Nothing. Just wanted to check on my boy, that’s all.”

“Well, he is fine.”

He didn’t look it but Tony played along anyway. “Good. And.. if I’m honest, I’m a little bored. You mind if I hang here for a bit?”

Peter waved a hand, turning back to his work. “It’s your table.”

Tony searched his brain for something that could be wrong. Sleep, that was number one. But it was a busy time at school so that made sense, he knew the poor kid had a mountain of homework. That would also explain his coldness; being tired made Peter a little grumpy, they all knew that by now.

“Right. I’ll just.. sit here.” Tony shifted his chair closer to the table and slid his phone out of his pocket. Maybe he could respond to some emails or messages or something. “And I’ll be quiet,” he added. “I promise.”

Peter merely hummed in acknowledgment.

He was quiet.. for a while. Everything was quiet besides the scratching of Peter’s pen on the paper and the occasional rustle of the page in his book being turned. Tony was restless but he tried not to show it. He stopped himself from fidgeting and sat as still as he could beside him. He couldn’t focus on anything, all of the emails were boring and all of his unanswered messages equally as uninteresting. All he really wanted to do was talk to Peter and find out what was wrong and how concerned he should be. He knew he had a tendency to overdo it when it came to his concern but that was neither here nor there.

Tony huffed and put his phone face down on the table. He had had enough of looking through his emails. He leant forward on his elbows and tilted his head, watching Peter. His tongue was poking out from the side of his mouth and his eyebrows were pinched in concentration.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Peter asked without looking up.

“‘Cos your concentration face is adorable.”

“I am not adorable.”

Tony laughed. “You so are.”

Peter made an exasperated noise. “I thought you said you were being quiet.”

“I’m bored.”

“And I’m busy.”

“You don’t want to come to the lab for a bit? Take a break?”

“No. And I really need to concentrate. I’m serious.”

“Okay..” He clicked his tongue. “Serious.. Got it. Serious. I can do serious. I’m great at serious. I’m a professiona -“

“Mr Stark.”

Ouch. They’d finally got him to stop calling him that. Had he really pissed him off that much?

“Sorry. I did promise, didn’t I?”

Peter lifted an eyebrow, looking terribly unimpressed. “You did.”

“Commencing the ‘quiet protocol’ now.” Tony drew his hand across his mouth, miming closing it like a zip. Peter didn’t laugh and turned back to his work.

The room was silent again, Tony just as fidgety as before. Maybe he should just leave, take himself to the lab and be alone. But thing was, he didn’t want to be alone. He felt like a little puppy, desperate for attention and all he was getting here was the grumpiest of receptions possible. But most of all, Tony just wanted to know that Peter was okay but he had a feeling that any conversations concerning feelings wouldn’t go over well. At least he could try handle the simpler parts of taking care of him.

Tony stood without another word and made his way into the kitchen. Food and water - the most basic of human needs. Essential to keeping a stressed teenager happy and healthy. Right?

He thought he did a pretty good job of it actually. A few minutes later, he was walking back to the table with a glass of water with ice and a plate which was arranged quite impressively with an assortment of fruits, vegetables and Peter’s favourite sweet snacks.

He set them both down in front of him and with his now-free hand he brushed a hand over the curls on the back of Peter’s head which was bent low over his work. He’d made good progress on his book, Tony noticed. His pen stilled for a second and he looked up to eye the plate of food before looking up at Tony who slid back into the chair beside him.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly.

In the interest of being quiet, Tony didn’t respond, only gave him the fondest of smiles he reserved only for him.

He went back to his emails. Peter went back to his work. He didn’t touch the food. He scribbled and scribbled and scribbled until the page was full and then he turned it over and scribbled some more until that was full too. He neared the end of the book and then on the final page, he slammed it shut and thrust it away from himself like he couldn't stand to look at the thing anymore.

Tony watched silently as Peter put his elbows on the table and thread his hands into his hair, squeezing just tight enough that Tony almost said something but he held his tongue. He was supposed to be being quiet.

He almost jumped when Peter suddenly shot up from his chair, hastily grabbed all of his things and stomped down the hall and into his room. Tony heard the door slam from where he was sat, stunned.

He sat for a few minutes wondering if it was something he’d done that had tipped him over the edge. Absentmindedly, he grabbed a carrot stick from the untouched plate of food and nibbled on it while he thought over the puzzling matter. Teenagers.

He decided to leave him alone for the next few hours. He was sure he’d come to him if he needed anything or if he thought Tony might be able to help him. Maybe Tony wasn’t the best at writing essays about books but he’d give it his best go if it meant he could take some of his stress away even if he was only there to offer suggestions.

Later that evening, Peter still hadn’t made a reappearance and Tony stopped ignoring the parts of himself that were telling him to worry about his Spider-Kid.

“Pete?” He knocked gently on his door.

“Mmhm,” he heard from inside. Tony cracked the door open.

He was now typing on his laptop frantically, his notes spread out across the desk in front of him. Never did Tony think if he was ever the one to be raising a kid he’d have to tell them to stop doing homework.

“Kiddo, why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at this for hours.”

“Because I need to get this out of the way so I can get on with everything else. I still haven’t started my maths or biology or history or -“

“I get it, you’ve got a lot on. But you still need to look after you. You aren’t going to be doing your best work if you’re this stressed out.”

Peter’s head snapped up and Tony worried that he’d said the wrong thing.

“Just come and have something to eat. Take five. It’ll do a world of good, trust me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Peter.” He was always hungry. Growing teenager mixed with a super spider metabolism? He was lying through his teeth.

“I’m not. I’m fine. I’ll come get something when I’m done.”

“How much have you written?”

He glanced back at the laptop. “Three hundred words.”

“How many do you need?”

Peter mumbled a number Tony didn’t catch but the reddening of his cheeks told Tony it was quite a lot more than three hundred.

“Well, I’m sure you can smash them out after you’ve had something to eat.”

“I told you already, I’m not hungry.”

Okay, attitude. Tony raised his hands in a show of peace. “Okay, okay. I’m just trying to help here. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Well, quit it! I don’t have time for this.”

Tony raised a disapproving eyebrow. “I don’t think there’s any need for that tone.”

Peter shot him an incredulous look which then turned swiftly into a scowl. “I don’t think there’s any need for this conversation.”

Tony tried another tactic. He softened his gaze and his tone. “Come on, Pete. You know you can talk to me if there is something bothering yo-”

“Oh, my god! Would you just leave me alone? You’re bothering me!” Peter’s fist were clenched tight, Tony saw them balled on the desk. “You're not my dad!”

Tony was an expert at hiding his emotions. So when his heart took a blow like that, he was perfectly adept at containing the agony so it didn’t show on his face. He just took it.

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “Okay, kiddo,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you alone. You can come find me if you need anything.” He left quickly, shutting the door behind him.

It hurt. A lot. Peter wasn’t his biologically but that hadn’t ever mattered to him. Tony loved him like he was his flesh and blood and he’d always thought the feeling was mutual. Maybe he had been wrong all along.

Tony did what he did best when something unpleasant happened - he hid in his lab and tried to forget for a while by tinkering until the callouses on his hands were either bright red or leaking blood. He stayed down there for hours and didn’t sleep for a minute that night. He was too upset to do anything else. The thought of having to face going back upstairs was so uncomfortable that he willed himself to believe for a few hours that he could spend the rest of his life down there.

Peter didn’t want to talk, that was blatantly obvious and Tony wasn’t too fond of the idea of having to leave the comfort of his lab and so he remained there until the sun rose and then remained for a few hours after that.

Peter had already left for school by the time Tony found the courage to venture back upstairs. FRIDAY informed him that he hadn’t been the only one that had spent the entire night awake.

He sat with his coffee for a while, wondering what the next possible step he should take was. Did he acknowledge what had happened or just let it go? Could he let it go? Should he wait for Peter bring it up? Would he? Man, there was a lot to think about. Teenagers.

He sat ruminating and trying to come up with a plan of action until he received a notification on his phone. It was an emergency alert. Iron Man was needed.

Call him selfish but he was almost grateful for whatever force was causing issues in New York that day as it gave him something to do and provided the perfect distraction.

Unfortunately for him, only a little while after they’d begun fighting, a little red and blue flash in the corner of his eye said he wouldn’t be forgetting about the kid anytime soon.

“I thought you were supposed to be in school, kid.” Tony couldn’t help it, it just slipped out.

He was met with no response.

“Spider-Man! You’re on civilian evacuation,” Cap said over the comms.

“Roger that, Captain,” Peter mumbled dejectedly.

Tony flew past Clint who paused for a moment, having also picked up on the teens melancholy and he shot Tony a look before pulling out an arrow and firing it at one of the goons on the ground. Tony touched down next to him, the faceplate retracting, and muted the comms.

“We fought,” he told the archer without preamble. He was a dad, he could give him advice. “Any tips?”

Clint laughed, reaching up to mute his comm too. “Tips on dealing with moody teenagers? Nah, you’re on your own, I haven’t got a clue. But please, if you manage to figure it out, let me know.”

Tony grumbled under his breath and shot off again, dodging a blast from one of the high tech weapons they were trying to neutralise. Tony found the target, aimed and stunned him before he could try it again.

He flew down beside him, ready to grab the weapon and take it back to the jet. Another flash of red caught his eye and he looked up to see Peter swinging with a woman in his arms, carrying her to safety.

Tony took care of the weapon and then flew back to the centre of the chaos. He couldn’t help watching Peter whenever he was within range, it was engrained In him to make sure he was safe at all times. It also meant that he wasn’t able to commit much attention to his surroundings and so he was a little sloppier than usual. He wasn't the only one who noticed but thankfully Clint stuck up for him when Cap questioned it.

“Karen says all the civilians are clear of the immediate area.”

“Great job,” Steve replied. “You can wait for us at the jet if you want.”

“I can help.”

“We’re almost done here anyway. Seriously, take five. You’ve done your part and you’ve done a good job.” Tony was thankful Steve took the lead of benching him before Tony had to. He had the feeling that would have caused quite the scene given the current state of affairs.

Peter appeared on the edge of a rooftop, crouching with his hands between his legs in one of his signature poses. Tony cracked a smile at the sight. No matter what had happened he would never stop loving his kid and his spidery ways.

Guns fired and Tony had to tear his eyes away, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t for long because Peter jumped and swung down, throwing himself directly into the battlefield.

Tony grumbled internally but chose to hold his tongue. He was being oddly quiet but anything else he was sure would just end in arguments and no one wanted that.

Tony watched him snatch a gun from the hands of one of the enemy with a web and webbed it up out of he way. The man himself was next and before he could move, he was struggling against the restraints that had him firmly secured to the lamp post behind him.

Two goons saw Spider-Man take down their friend and yelled - with more fury than Tony thought Peter deserved to have directed at him - and aimed up at the web-slinger. Clearly these guys had some hard feelings after the ferry incident.

Tony saw it happening and felt himself moving before he’d actively chosen to do so. There were two blasts of light, one that Peter dodged easily and the other that wasn’t so simple and would have hit him square in the chest if Tony hadn’t thrown himself in front of him.

He didn’t feel the impact. He didn’t feel anything. Just saw the light fading. He never felt himself hit the concrete. The only thing he remembered was hearing a scream that hadn’t come from him.

***

“.. Up! Wake up! Please! Oh, god, please! Wake up!”

Inside his metal tomb, which was as unresponsive as he was, Tony felt the jostling movements as someone above him tried to frantically shake him awake.

“God! Tony, please! Say something!”

They were becoming louder and more desperate. Tony wanted to reassure them, like a primal urge to keep them safe and happy was stirring inside of him, but he couldn’t move his mouth. His eyes were still closed - he had to get them to open first of all.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. No. Wake up. Please!”

I’m trying, he wanted to say. I’m okay. I’m awake. He couldn’t speak.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! God, I’m so so sorry! Please, Tony, please,” Peter begged.

It was all he needed to try and wake himself up, hearing the hysteria creeping into Peter’s words. Tony blinked his eyes open. The inside of his suit was dark apart from the small blinking light at the edge of his vision which was his back up power. He’d be able to get out of the suit, thank goodness for that. If he could just figure out how to move..

“Karen? K-Karen, is he.. is he dead? Please, just tell me if he’s dead, just say it. Just say it now. Just tell me.”

Oh, god.

The faceplate flicked open and Tony found himself looking up at a very distressed Peter. His mask was off and they were in a secluded alley not where he remembered being last time he was conscious. Peter must have dragged the suit out of the chaos. The poor kid was white as a sheet and his eyes were frantic. They found his.

“Not dead,” Tony managed to say in a rasping wheeze.

“Tony!”

Peter flung himself down over the top of him, hugging the suit and holding on as if his life depended on it. The impact jostled him and he became aware of a burning sensation in his chest. He held in his gasp for Peter’s sake.

“Oh, my god, Tony! I thought you were dead! You fell! You - you..”

“Shh, hey, shh. Give.. give me a second to figure out if I am actually alive. I’d hate to.. to give you false hope.” Talking hurt.

Peter leaned back, sitting on his heels but keeping one hand on the chest plate of Tony’s suit. His other hand went to his comm. “Karen?” A pause. Peter’s wide eyes looked him over. “She says.. she says you might be concussed. And.. and - god - your ribs. Broken.”

“Mmhm. Feel that,” Tony groaned.

“You’re.. you’re bleeding too.”

“Huh. Where?”

“You’re head.”

“Well, she did say concussion. Doesn’t miss a trick, does she?”

Peter’s lip was wobbling. Tony had the absurd urge to laugh. There was nothing funny about this but everything was suddenly hysterical. He worked with all of his strength to keep it in.

“Why are you smiling?” Peter sniffed.

“Because you are adorable.”

“Stop it. I am not.” He sniffed again.

“You never believe me when I say that but I promise you, I’m right.”

Peter shook his head, keeping his lips pressed firmly together which only proved Tony’s point further.

“Come on, kiddo, help me out of this thing so I can give you a hug.”

They had to work together to get him out of the suit. The more Tony moved, the more he realised how much everything hurt. He winced with every inch they sat him upright. Peter kept him steady with a hand on his back, his super strength bearing most of Tony’s weight.

When he was upright, Peter didn’t go in a for a hug. Tony felt a trickle of blood down the side of his face. For a split second, he wondered if Peter was still just as upset as he had been the previous night - if he was still bothering him. But one look at his face told Tony that wasn’t true.

“You jumped in front of me,” he whispered. There were tears in his eyes.

“My suit’s better.”

“You’re hurt.”

“You could have died.”

Peter squeezed his eyes closed. “You can’t.. you can’t do that. I thought..” His inhaled sharply. “I thought you were dead and I thought the last thing I said to you was.. was..” Peter gave an awful sob.

“Oh, kiddo. Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around Peter who dissolved immediately into a blubbering mess.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear! It wasn’t true! I didn’t mean it!”

Tony suddenly felt like an idiot for ever believing those words. How had he ever been stupid enough to think for a second that Peter could have possibly meant them? If he loved Tony only half as much as he loved Peter, then that would still be an enormous amount. He didn’t know how these things - matters of the heart - worked, not really, but he knew one thing and that was that his kid was his, blood or not.

“I know, kiddo. I know.”

“I’m so so sorry!”

His hand was in his hair, Peter’s face pressed against his shoulder and spreading snot and tears and all things gross all over him. Tony didn’t mind one bit - he himself was leaking blood all over the place too.

“You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

It didn’t calm him down. In fact, Peter made a miserable sound somewhere between a sob and a moan and shook harder.

“I’m sorry! Please, dad. I’m so so sorry!”

Tony froze. He’d never said that before. Never. Not once. Tony never thought he would given how long it took for him to be comfortable even saying ‘Tony’. He’d practically had to beg him.

Ribs twinging, heart bursting, Tony turned his head so he could plant a kiss on the top of Peter’s head.

“There is no need for apologies. I know you didn’t mean it.” Tony sighed contentedly. “My son. My boy. I love you.”

Peter nodded frantically, still sniffling. “I love you too.”

“I know you’ve been stressed out lately. How about when we get home and I get myself patched up we have a talk about whatever’s really bothering you? Come up with a solution. Sound good?”

“Yeah..”

“Good.” He squeezed him, repressing his wince as he did so. “Good.”

Footsteps came crashing along the street towards them as Steve came running into the alley. “Tony! I got here as soon as I could, we just got everything cleaned up. Are you okay!?”

He looked at his son and smiled. “Perfect, Cap. Everything’s perfect.” Peter smiled back. Everything was truly wonderful.

Peter looked up Steve. “He’s lying,” he said, “his ribs are far from perfect.”

Tony groaned. “Thanks for the reminder, kid. I had just about forgotten.”

“We’ll get you patched up in the jet,” Steve said, relaxing when he saw his friend was relatively okay.

“Get me some ice for my ribs, Capsicle, would you? I know how much you love ice.”

Peter’s laugh was his favourite sound in the whole world.

The end.

#fanfic #irondad and spiderson #spider-man #irondad #marvel #iron man #marvel mcu #peter parker #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #all their problems would be solved if they weren't so emotionally constipated #marvel fic #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #spiderson

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