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dulcewrites · 4 months

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White Christmas

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader (a spy/The Americans au)

Summary: Bob has never been one to reminisce - his job keeps him ever-moving forward. But the holidays calls for reflection. (Wc: 1k +)

Warning: this came out more angsty than I thought :/

A/N: First, just want to say Happy Holidays and or Merry Christmas to those that celebrate. I wanted to get this out a bit earlier but life was life-ing lmao. This is my submission for @lewmagoo’s a lew magoo Christmas. I can’t wait to go back and read/interact everyone’s submissions. This is based off the song by Bing Crosby. This was not the original idea I had; this is much more melancholy but I think it came out well. I could not decide if I wanted to do a fic or moodboard so I kind of put them together. Please like, reblog, and or comment if you read something you enjoy ❤️❄️

Masterlist

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

Bob has been able to mark his life through events. Not exactly just with time or his age. Instead through a series of actions and domino effects that have set his life up to where it is now. He does not remember being 10, he just remembers the little house he was taken from. He doesn’t remember being 16, just the cold, smooth metal of his first revolver. His 26th birthday, with the real day he was born, was uneventful and terribly dull.

… that was until he got the envelope.

A face. A name. A never-ending mission. A wife to be.

27 was marked by a quick wedding. 28 was cemented by a crying baby girl and the sickly-sweet smell of baby wipes he grew to love. By 30, he saw his first gray hair and one little girl turned into two. Now he wonders what he can hang 37 on. He doesn't want it to be the bodies that have been left behind or 'daddy's business trips' as Georgia says.

Bob wants more. For once he wants something different. Something softer.

An idealist with the bloody ledger of a cynic, you call him. It is always with a smile but the biting edge that your voice can have never fully leaves. Bob thinks you resent that about him while likes to believe that it is a good thing - the little tug in the bottom of his stomach that he gets. Bob does his job, and he has done it valiantly for. Some days he may say he even loves what he does. But with his love comes a soft layer of sadness. It comes with wondering if there could be more outside of kills and mission and the bullshit, he would not have chosen for himself as a child. When things were syrupy in the way everything is when you're a kid.

The wistfulness grows stronger as the weather changes, and a dusty of white magic settles over the ground. The first winter snow he can remember in a long time.

The cabin idea comes with apprehension from you. Christmas was a holiday the two of you grinned and bared for the sake of the girls, but Bob found the words slipping out of his mouth. His fingers already inched looking into places - a little blue house in the snow. He knows that face well. Brows drawn tight and mouth pursed in thought.

“Emmie mentioned wanting to go camping.”

It was a bit unfair to mention your youngest daughter, Emerson. The frown lines on your face softened a bit, followed by a resigned sigh. There was little that made you like that - malleable. He knows you would never say it out loud but only the girls could do that.

I’ll have to talk with Maverick about it. He may need us.

Then it was his turn to frown. The growing dissolution bubbled under, and it all started with Pete Mitchell. But how does one turn his back on the only real family he has known. Bob cannot say he knows Regina and Don, - the people he should think to be parents; instead, thinks he was made in Mav’s image. Just like every other agent that has come through Top Gun. Your loyalty to Mav in admirable as it is a thorn in Bob’s side.

He likes to say there is three in your relationship if he could even call it that.

But he takes what he can get from you. A knowing smile when Aria says something completely out of left field. A kiss where you don’t flinch away or tense up.

It all works together in the oxymoron that is his marriage with you. Husband and wife. Partners in crime. He loathes you as much as he couldn’t imagine doing this without you. He endlessly pines for a woman he has two children with.

Nothing has ever been easy for the two of you, and he supposes he would not have it any other way.

———

“I don’t know your real name.”

The general statement made you pause as your looked away from the fireplace in front of you. Bob was sitting on the bed, the green reindeer slippers the girls gave him matched his pullover. While him and girls seem to thrive in the cold, you hated it. You liked the uncomfortableness that came with humidity and heat. You were used to beads of sweat above the brow and clothes sticking to you back. Uneasiness was your default setting.

A snow-covered cabin is beautiful in theory, tortuous in practice.

“What,” you muttered, gaze going back to the fire. The flames danced against the brick surrounding it. The name thing was an issue he pressed. For reasons you still don’t get.

“I don’t know your real name,” he repeats. “And you don’t know mine. You don’t know anything about me before we…”

He trails off contemplatively. You shrug softly. “I think Robert suits you fine. Perfectly, even.”

There was a beat of silence. You wanted to tell him it was better this way. Life has been separated into two different parts: BB and AB. Before Bob and After Bob. It was no use focusing on what happened before then. You hope he drops the conversation, but Bob has never been one to let things go. A dog with a bone.

“Do you know why I suggested coming here?”

“You enjoy watching me freeze,” it was a joke but there is little mirth in the room.

“I grew up in a little blue cabin, sort of like this one -,”

“Bob”

“In a small town in Illinois.”

“Bob,” you hate him for this… or at least you want to hate him for this. Hate him for trying so damn hard.

“Every winter, I remember sheets of snow on ground and - and my ma-,”

“Robert,” your voice echoes a bit off the room. You fully turn to him, wishing to have bit of venom in your voice but it comes out broken. “What do you want from this? From me?”

“Why does it have to be something? Why can’t I just want you, all of you?”

Penny warned you about this. She’s taught you everything you know. And for better or worse, it has led you done a straight and narrow path.

Even in our business, people grow… attached. It will be up to you to either let them in or close it before it gets to be too much.

You wouldn’t call yourself frigid, but you are sure others would. It never bothered you really. Not as you grew older. There was a weakness in others that you simply did not have. The coldness was an easy barrier that deterred most, if not everyone you came across.

“You have me,” your fingernail scrapes across the wool blanket wrapped around you. “I am right here, aren’t I?”

Cobalt eyes mute with sadness.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

You grow more exasperated. “And you think me telling you about my past life will do that?”

“No, but I think you being honest would. Honest about how you feel about me, about the girls, would.”

Does he want you to write on a piece of paper if he loves you and make him check yes or no like you’re in the fifth grade. There was something so innocent about the look he gave you. The stunted nature of how the two of you work around each other may be less of your faults and more of the world that failed the both of you. You look at Bob now and he doesn’t seem like the man you have seen dodging bullets or choking out men twice his size. He seems so utterly human. And despite yourself, all you can think about is how much Maverick would hate it. The spurred want others to think the same.

You do love the girls, frankly more that you would like to admit. Two little knives to which people can twist. And Robert…

People get hurt, killed, when feelings are involved.

let them in or close it.

“I am tired,” you mutter. “I really don’t feel like rehashing the past. Certainly not with you.”

It is the end of the discussion, and you try not to flinch when the door closes behind him. The silence had become a gentle friend of yours. A safe companion to embrace. You wait for him to come back, thinking he must be letting off some steam outside in the cold. But 30 minutes turns into an hour and you start to think he may have crashed in one of the other rooms in the cabin.

After numbingly sitting at the fireplace, the only thing you can think to do is get ready for bed. You crave a bottle of wine but agreed to a painfully dry Christmas.

Your fingers don’t go towards the drawers where you unpacked the plethora of long Johns and sweaters you brought; they go to Bob’s instead. You know he’d probably laugh at you if he could see it, and you’d deserve it. Can’t even admit your feelings but want to sleep in one his shirts. While digging for an old Led Zeppelin shirt. Your digging is thwarted when your hand grazes across a chest inside the drawer. Biting your lip, you look towards the door. Bad things come in threes. He’s already upset you; you’re digging in his stuff… might at well get your third strike.

A familiar sinking feeling muddled in your stomach as you lift the chest to see tinier ring box in it, along with a mini snow globe. You both promised no presents this year for Christmas, but of course he wouldn’t stick to that. Your gaze goes to the simple ring on your left hand. It wasn’t something either of you picked out. It was left in the envelope you received.

“You should be happy you even get one off the bat,” Natasha sighed. “Jake gave me a ring pop as joke before Mav stepped in.”

You don’t have it in you to open the ring box, a bile stuck in your throat. But you do pick up the mini snow globe. It is like nothing you have seen before; it looks homemade. Inside a little blue cabin with sparkles dusted around it. On the bottom, tiny writing painted on. Chicken scratch that could only come from kids.

To the best wife and mommy in the world. May all your Christmases be merry and bright.

You set the snow globe back in the chest hastily, as if you have been burned.

God you’re fucked.

#robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #Robert Floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #a lew magoo christmas

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cositapreciosa · 1 year

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Hi lovely, if you’re taking requests please could I get your take on this (I cannot get it out of my head)🥲 Javier Peña x fem - in a secret relationship and they get into a huge argument before a really important meeting and end up fucking on Gaviria’s desk👀

Honey

Javier Peña x gn!reader (swearing, smut, not full on but like, a bit, the usual for the show), 1721 words

a/n : had to use a side profile gif, otherwise, it would have been a war crime. Did i just write? like half a smut? 2022 really was something

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx (do I really have to put this warning on lil javi here?)

‘’ Los pepes, Javi? This is insane. ‘’

Javier is pacing in front of you. Left, right, left, right. The wood of the desk behind you is pressing on your hip, a constant reminder on how real this moment is, how he is a hundred percent serious, no joking around this time,

‘’ It is not. ‘’

His fingers are twitching, restless, begging for a smoke. He emphasizes each word as if doing so would make you believe he’s right, like this isn’t career suicide, like this would solve everything. The final piece to the puzzle that is Colombia’s war on drugs,

‘’ You can’t be fucking serious- ‘’

‘’ Are you going to report me? Is that what you’re saying? ‘’

Your hand raises to your forehead, pressing the skin, hiding behind your hand. You didn't want your day to start off like this, fighting once more about him putting his life on the line. Sneaking around again to hide from the glances and the whispers. You had been doing a good job at it for a few months, even when he had started to be bolder at times. You sigh,

‘’ Don’t. Don’t put words in my mouth, Javier. ‘’

You can tell this one stings by how his lips curl slightly. How his full name, raw, usually foreign, comes out of your mouth. The air is tense in the room, whoever’s empty office he pulled you into. You knew he had been hiding something for weeks now. You don’t know what is worst, how you were thinking for a second that maybe he was maybe trying to fuck the new secretary, or how he was actually fucking around with narcos. You can’t stop how your foot taps incessantly on the carpet,

‘’ Does Steve knows about this? ‘’

Your voice comes out smaller than you intended, soft and whispered, like a secret. Did you tell him before me, you want to say, do you trust me as much as I trust you. It is a shame really, how you want to be the first person he confides in, how you yearn to be more than a lover at times.

You don’t remember when you and Javier had started going out, meeting out after work, sipping away the stress of the week. But you do remember how easy it had been to ease into it, to borrow his shirts so you could stay the night, to remember his days off and his favourite colour,

‘’ You’re the only one that knows. I thought you would understand. ‘’

You shake your head, shifting your weight to your other foot,

‘’ I do, Ja- ‘’ you swallow, hard, ‘’ I do, but you can’t put those guys in prison and shake their hands at the same time. ‘’

He reaches into his pocket, finally pulling a cigarette from the pack. He knows you’re right. His eyes don’t leave your face as he lights it up, and you can tell he’s burning inside, red eyes, fingers twitching. You push yourself off the desk, taking a step forward. Your hand comes up, cradling his bicep. He smells of cigarette, and whiskey and-

‘’ When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep, amor? ‘’

The word comes soft from your lips, rolling off your tongue. His shoulders relax a bit as he exhales smoke through his nose. You know he doesn’t need a new enemy right now, that he feels like he is surrounded on all fronts. It is a cry for help in a way, looking for solace in desperate times,

‘’ Frankly? ‘’ he pulls again at his cigarette, smoke filling up the space between you, ‘’ I stopped counting. ‘’

Your hand caresses down and up his arm. You are not surprised by how Javier decided to take the matter into his own hands, how he thinks doing this will end up saving everyone, even if he knows it’s not entirely true. You sigh,

‘’ I can’t risk my career, my life, on this. Maybe you end up back in the US if the higher-ups catch you, severance package or whatever, but what do you think happens to me? ‘’

Colombia, is what will happen to you, sicarios and forced resignation, is what will happen to you. You can’t look at him, so you play with his shirt instead, rubbing the material between your fingers as he leans behind you toward the desk to put out his cigarette. You can smell his aftershave and you know his eyes are trying to find yours again while he straightens his back,

‘’ I can have you an embassy ID, you can come with me. ‘’

It is like you have been shocked, raising your head so fast to look at him. Don’t sell promises you can’t give me. It is your turn to be angry now,

‘’ Don’t lie to me. Don’t say things like that. ‘’

‘’ I wouldn’t lie to you if I didn’t think I could do it. ‘’, his hand is wrapped around your elbow now, bringing you closer again, ‘’ I mean it. Do this with me, come back home with me after this. ‘’

Home.

Not yours, his. His country, his language, his favourite dinner places. Not yours. You stay silent, you don’t know what you want, what you should do, or why you want to say yes. You cross your arms, stepping back to lean on the wood once more,

‘’ I’m not sure what you want me to do. How you want me to help. ‘’

‘’ You have access to a lot more information than I do. I am not asking you to share everything, I want you to come to me if you feel it would help. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. ‘’

He is a step away from you now, cornering you between him and the desk. You can smell the remnant of the cigarette on him, overpowering his cologne. You don’t remember when he got so close or when his hand wrapped carefully behind your ear to press away at the tension in your neck. You can see the concern in his eyes, almost like regret. Maybe I should have kept this to myself. You know he is overthinking like he always does. His thigh is warm between yours as you pull him closer by the belt buckle,

‘’ I’ll see what I can come up with. Your secret is safe with me, okay? ‘’

You feel the need to reassure him. You want him to know, know that you won’t exchange him for a few favours from his boss. His breath is soft on your cheek, his nose moving across your temple. If anyone were to come in now, with him between your legs, his mouth in your hair-

‘’ Javi… They will wait for me before starting the meeting. ‘’

Your sentence comes out insistent, a small warning without any real meaning behind it. Don’t start something you can’t finish. His arms slither between yours and the rest of your body, his palms pressing against the wooden desk as he leans forward, belt slipping from your fingertips as his hips pull naturally backward.

‘’ Do you have to go now? ‘’

It’s not a question, even though he does whisper it like one. Don’t go. Stay here. An order, even if there is no rank to pull. His hand slides up from the desk to your hips in one long motion, gripping at the flesh, wrinkling the fabric. His thigh comes up between your legs, pressing against you. Your head lulls back slightly, eyes following the motion,

‘’ I do, I really do- ‘’

His mouth is behind your ear now, whispering things in English you barely understand and don’t care to, as his hand taunts the skin under your shirt, pulling it from under your belt. Air gets stuck in your throat, the noises in the hallway stop. His leg comes up again, leaning forward into you with his whole body, rubbing himself on your thigh. Javier groans as your hand weave in his hair, pulling skin and curls as his lips trail your neck, tongue and teeth,

‘’ I don’t want you to go. I really really don’t want you to go. ‘’

His fingers hook the underside of your knees, pushing you further into the desk. His voice is soft, hypnotizing, and you know you can’t say no to him. You never can. The whole thing feels like a dream, like being stirred in honey, back and forth, back and forth,

‘’ Come with me, ‘’ he breathes, laboured, moaning, ‘’ Even if you don’t do this, I want you to come back with me. ‘’

Fuck.

‘’ Stop- ‘’ you press your fingers to his mouth, to keep his moans from echoing in the hallway, to keep his words from piercing through your skin,

‘’ I’ll take care of you, you know I will. ‘’ he starts again. His breath is warm on your fingers, you can feel the humidity on your skin. His hand lowers on your stomach, fingertips sliding under your underwear,

‘’ I know. I know, I just- ah ‘’

You melt into him, pushing your hips into his hand as he pushes back against your thigh,

‘’ Come with me, I beg you. ‘’

Come for me. Your resolve is weak in his hands. Slipping between your fingers, pooling around on the floor, seeping into the carpet,

‘’ Yes, alright, yes. ‘’

A defeat of sorts, but not one you go out of really losing. Your underwear slightly burns your skin as he pulls it up, pushing it to the side as much as can. He moans in your ear, again and again. Your head rolls on his shoulder, and it’s your turn to cry out, chest pressing against his,

‘’ Don’t, god- Please don’t be too loud, if someone walks in- ‘’

‘’ Are you even listening to yourself right now? ‘’ he breathes out, laughing.

You can feel him smiling against your cheek, how taunting his words are, teasing. Tomorrow will be another day, but as he lowers you onto the desk once and for all, pushing around at the papers and clippings, you know you signed yourself off to something way above your pay grade.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier x reader #narcos imagine #narcos imagines #pedro pascal x reader

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cosmicanemoia · 4 months

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Nobody Like You

Larissa Weems x Reader

Chapter 3

SUMMARY

2 months felt like an age, and even though you've been hoping for Larissa to show up at your door, you didn't expect it to happen now. You can hear her crying and muttering words you can not understand until you open the door.

"You are everything I never thought I needed and more." You heard Larissa say through her sobs.

"I'm such a fool for thinking otherwise. I'm sorry I hurt you and keep hurting you, for doubting you..." Larissa apologised.

You signalled her to come inside and sit on the couch. You offer her a tea, hoping it will calm her a little.

Larissa's tears slowly faded. "I miss you so much my darling. And I- *sighs* I don't know. I'm going crazy without you."

You cannot believe the words you're hearing. You've been thinking of begging her to take you back, but you didn't expect her to be the one to do it.

"Please. I beg of you to take me back." Larissa pleaded.

You are formulating words wanting to say the right thing. You want to take her back of course, but you're still too hurt... too broken, "I want to. I really do." You finally declared.

Larissa is sensing that you're not finished talking, so she urged you to continue, "but?"

"What will happen next? Are we back to our same old routine? Where you doubt me so much we broke up a lot? I don't want to be broken anymore... I'm afraid I'll fade." You continued.

Larissa moved closer, took your hands, and held it closer to her chest. "I'll spend every minute of every day making it up and proving to you that I'm worthy of your love."

You smile slightly at her and take your hand back to put around her body. You hugged her tightly and snuggled your face into the crook of her neck, and inhaled her essence. "You were always worthy, you just won't accept it." You whispered.

Larissa cling to you for dear life.

You both fell asleep on the sofa embracing each other and not wanting to ever let the other go.

It took at least a week before the tension pass, and now you were able to joke about it. And after three months your love for each other only grow and prosper.

(My Love Won't Let You Down by Little Mix)

The sound of slow and soft music echoes through the house.

Larissa's hands are around your upper body while yours are wrapped around her waist tightly.

Your body swayed rhythmically. Even though it's freezing outside. You could only feel each other's warmth.

Larissa hummed the tune of the song. You both throw a kiss on the forehead or on the cheek, or any exposed skin here and there.

-I'LL BE THERE WITH YOU

ANYTIME THAT YOU NEED ME TO-

You locked eyes while closely holding each other, and mouthed the lyrics of the song you were slow dancing to.

-MY LOVE WON'T LET YOU DOWN-

Your foreheads touch, and you can feel each other's breath on each other's lips. When the song ended you passionately kiss each other.

The next morning you woke up with Larissa lying on your chest. You softly caress her head as you smile to yourself. You sigh contendedly.

Larissa looks up from your chest to meet your gaze, "good morning darling."

"Good Morning my love." You replied.

She moves and gives you a good morning kiss.

"Good Morning indeed." You quipped.

She chuckled and kissed your cheeks before she bury her face in your neck.

You stayed cuddled for more than an hour before you both decided to go have breakfast.

The cold wind blows through the afternoon.

You both shift closer to each other and hold hands tighter to get warm. You gaze at the sky as you stroll down the park, and then you look at Larissa, who is already gazing at you.

You grinned and blush. "Enjoying the view?" You asked.

She answered, "I very much am."

You walked some more for a few minutes until you found an empty bench to sit on.

When you sit down, Larissa let go of your hand, but before you could miss the warmth she wraps her hand around you. "Better?" She asked.

You look up at Larissa and she leaned closer so you could kiss. You both hummed at the feeling and from the warmth the kiss emanates. "Best." You answered.

Less than an hour of comfortable silence passed, and you speak, "we should get back home, or else we'll freeze to death."

You look at Larissa and see a smirk plastered on her face. Larissa declares, "I'm already home."

It made you grin widely and blush profusely. "You know what I mean." You replied.

"You're my home too." You declared just before you went into the house.

You sat on the sofa and got comfortable. Larissa sets a hot chocolate in front of you before she sits down beside you. You both snuggle closer to each other.

---

Larissa's laughter and shrieks can be heard from afar as you chase her on the shore. She shrieked and laughed some more when you finally caught her.

"You can't run from your destiny honey... it is written in the stars that you-- should apply my sun screen baby." You quipped.

Larissa chuckled, "you're so silly-- and dramatic... I love it."

You went under your umbrella, and Larissa applied sun screen on you... while breathing heavily on your ear.

You gulp and breath deeply. If she plan on getting you all hot and bothered it's definitely working.

"Close your eyes." Larissa commanded.

You look around you and gulped, "here?" You asked.

Larissa nodded to confirm, so you did.

After a minute of closing your eyes, you decide to peek a little, and then you see Larissa running off into the ocean. You chuckled to yourself and shook your head from side to side.

"Darling come on." Larissa shouted as the waves hit her body.

You shouted back as you ran to her, "seriously?"

When you got near to Larissa, she splashed water on your face.

"Oh my god." You try to cover your face with your hands because she keeps splashing on you. When you get closer to her, you lift her up and you let both of your bodies fall into the water.

After more than an hour of playing and swimming in the ocean; you both sat side by side on the shore watching the skyline.

Larissa admired the view and complimented it, "It's so beautiful."

"Indeed." You agreed while your eyes fixated on Larissa's side profile as she glows under the sun.

She moved to look at you, and then she realised what you mean, and it made her blush.

You give her a quick peck on the lips.

You and Larissa watched the sunset. Larissa's hands wrapped around you, and you can feel the warmth of her chest on your back.

It's dark now... and there's nobody else but the two of you. You stand up and begin to strip.

Larissa eyes widen because of your action, "what are you doing?" Larissa stands up and looks around the beach and tries to cover you with her body.

"What do you think I'm doing?" You had a devilish grin on your face, "come on, baby. It's just the two of us now-- plus you know you want to." You ran off into the ocean.

Larissa stripped bare and quickly followed you.

----

Larissa regularly receive bouquets with a letter that sometimes consists a poem or something simple such as "I miss you." Or "I love you." She collects these letters, and stores them in her desk drawer, for when she wants to read them again.

Some of these letters are:

Your eyes reminds me of the stars

And when you look at me

I feel as if

I'm the center of the universe

But when you smiled at me

I am humbled and I know

You are the universe

All the music in the world

And your laughter by far

Is my favorite of all

I never once thought of forever

But your embrace made me think

And I thought even forever wouldn't be enough

Can't wait to be blessed

By your presence

My goddess I thank you

For giving me essence

On the other hand, Larissa would leave you little treats to find around the house. Every time you open the fridge or the cabinets, you will find treats that she had left for you.

Sometimes, you would find your favourite ice cream flavour, favourite cookies, or brownies. Rings or necklaces that she thinks you'll really like, and some other things that pits a smile on your face.

Most of the time when Larissa gets home, she has brought you your favourite food from your favourite restaurant. Which made you all giggly, and in turn makes Larissa happy.

-----

You heard the door open then shut. "Baby you home?" You stood up from the sofa and you see Larissa sauntering to you and smiling.

You hugged each other tightly. "I am now." She answered.

You smile, then you kiss her forehead, down to the tip of her nose, and finally to her lips, which lingers longer than the first two kisses.

You both simultaneously sigh contendedly matched by a smile on your faces.

After having dinner and asking each other about the other's day, you went to clean up. While you wash the dishes, Larissa dries them.

And when you finish washing the dishes, you dry your hands and hug Larissa from behind as she dries the rest of the dishes. She leans and hums in your embrace.

When she finished drying the dishes. You cuddled on the sofa, then binge watch your favourite show. After finishing at least three episodes, you both fall asleep in each other's embrace.

The T.V. that is still playing in the background wakes you up. You reach with your free hand for the remote to turn it off. You softly caress Larissa's back while she lies on top of you to wake her. "Hey, baby, we have to go to bed." You whispered softly.

Larissa hummed.

When you got to bed, Larissa quickly spooned you, and you both quickly fell back to sleep.

Every happy and hurtful moment that Larissa had with you flashed in her mind. How she completely went feral when she dreamed about you cheating on her and how you would tease her about freely now. A tear rolls down her cheek...

"You alright ma'am?" The clerk asked.

"I am," Larissa sniffles. "I think I found the perfect ring to propose my longtime girlfriend with." She added with a smile.

Larissa had realised that there's nobody like you. And she'll always be grateful that you never turn her away, so she thinks she has to marry you.

You never thought you'd want to marry someone or ever be married. So this is a shock and a surprise for you.

"I'll take this one." You said to the clerk as you point to the ring that you think would be perfect for Larissa.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x female reader #sapphic #lesbian #wlw #x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems fluff

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corroded-queen · 1 year

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You cannot tell me Ghostface!Eddie wouldn’t be absolutely blasting I Can’t Decide while toying with a bloodied, tied up Jason; his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, aching at all the slices Eddie’s already inflicted.

Eddie would be absolutely giddy, singing into the voice changer, lunging and pulling back right at the last second before the knife could plunge into Jason’s stomach. Jason struggling against the ropes, straining as much as he can while they dig into his skin. He's gagged, spit and blood mixing down his chin.

"What's the matter, Jason? Cat got your tongue?" And he'd laugh, savoring every second that asshole finally got what was coming to him. Finally got it because he was delivering it.

He'd relished killing the others, Andy and Patrick especially, but killing Jason is something different. Something better. Shit, it felt like fucking Christmas getting to watch the knife he took from Jason's own house slice through his skin. The pure hit of adrenaline he got seeing that asshole writhe when he drove it to the handle into his shoulder - just getting to taste a bit of the pain he'd put Eddie, Hellfire, shit - anyone different - through was insane. Better than anything Rick could ever give him to sell.

In the end, Eddie would make Jason think he left - disappearing into the darkness for a moment, just out of his periphery. Long enough for Jason to believe Eddie might've left - long enough to have just a sliver of hope for freedom. Jason would slide forward, just a bit, his eyes trained on the home phone dangling from its cord just inside. If he could just get close enough -

And then cracked leather gloves land heavily on his shoulders, and he feels a sob stick in his throat. His eyes crinkle shut and his body shakes gently. Everything aches, his shoulder burns, and he can feel the way his ripped clothes cling to him through the blood and sweat dripping down his chest. Eddie pats hard against the shoulder he'd just stabbed.

♩♩ ~I can't decide whether you should live or die, oh you'll probably go to heaven~ ♩♩

Jason looks up when Eddie's hands leave his shoulders, staring hard at the cheap plastic mask as the knife, blood still coating the edge, bites deep into the skin of his neck. His eyes bulge when blood splatters onto the patio door and Eddie can't wretch his gaze away, nearly slicing clean through Jason's neck.

Relief courses through him, and he's shaking with nothing but excitement, punching up in the air with the knife tight in his grasp when Jason gurgles a final breath. He wipes the blood on the costume and returns the knife to the side of his thigh. The walk back to his van would be a long one, but fuck, he could run a marathon and not break a sweat right now.

He retreats to the shadows, humming that damn song, and makes it back to you before midnight, passed out in his bed. He wanted to fuck you into oblivion, bury himself deep in your pussy to tie the night up with a bow; but watching you breathe softly, curled up in his shirt, hugging his pillow - fuck, he couldn't just wake you up when you looked so damn cute, could he?

You're only aware he's home when the washer stirs you, and you feel him slide in beside you, pressing feathery kisses up from your hip, to your arm and collarbone. He stops when you scoot closer to him, throwing the blanket over his half-naked form; he smells like shampoo and you figure he must've taken a shower, his wet hair tickling your skin.

"Deal go well?" You ask, voice soft and groggy from sleep, eyes blinking in the low-light thrown in from his window when you face him.

"Really well, sweetheart," he says, pressing a kiss to your head when you close your eyes again. "Really fuckin well."

He wraps his arms around you, and you sigh against him, breathing in his body wash, melting into his hold.

You don't tell him he forgot his lunchbox on the couch.

You don't tell him you'd found his bloodstained gloves in a drawer, days ago, when you were looking for condoms.

You squish your cheek against him and relax, because Eddie is still your Eddie - your sweet, ingenious Eddie. And now, well, now those assholes wouldn't hurt anyone ever again.

They find Jason’s body the next morning, nearly decapitated, eyes still shot open in surprise. Jason's tape player that Eddie'd set up beside the chair still singing out:

♩♩ ~I can't decide whether you should live or die~ ♩♩

#eddie munson #ghostface Eddie #ghostface!eddie #pretend the scissor sisters released the song in the 80s and that tape players can do that #eddie musnon x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #ghostface!eddie drabble #ghostface!eddie munson drabble #ghostface!eddie munson #ghostface eddie munson #my writing

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heroes-villains-side-blog · 1 year

Text

Fluffy cape 🧸

Inspired by this prompt by @thepenultimateword

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

“Welcome to Villain Con! Happy to see so many villainous faces this year! I hope my presentation does your future career at my company justice — Let’s begin.”

After the presentation and 10 minutes for questions and application forms, Villain was pleased to leave the conference room with a healthy stack of papers.

This had been one of their best presentations yet! And the candidates all seemed so charming and sinister too!

Villain went back to their booth at the career fair and took out their lunch. There was still an hour to go till the convention ended, and they already had over forty applications. Would it be in poor taste to go through them right now?

Maybe.

So they decided not to chance it.

For lunch, they had gotten an apple, a few shawarmas, and some coconut biscuits. Their food proudly sported their organization's packaging, which hopefully would let potential candidates know that they provide free food to all employees.

They were halfway through when their peripheral vision spotted a figure of light blue stroll up toward them.

“Hi. May I have an application form?”

Smile, Villain remembered. They looked up with their practiced nonthreatening soft smile, hand already reaching out for a form when they froze.

It was a hero. Very clearly. Cape and all.

Before they could blurt out “Scatter” for their fellow convention-goers, the do-gooder held up a special convention badge and a power-suppressing cuff.

“It’s okay! I have permission! See?”

The badge said this hero had been vetted and had permissions to attend the convention due to their potential to join the dark side.

"That's… I didn't know they gave cards like that… Or they vetted… or that they let heroes in at all…"

"Yeah," Hero gave a nervous laugh. "Had to go through a super long process…"

Villain nodded weakly.

"And costly too." That seemed to be a rough point for Hero.

All Villain could say was "Oof."

"Haha, yeahhh…"

Awkward silence.

"Well!" Hero began, in their Hero voice they used for civilians. “May I have an application, Mx Villain?”

“Um… are you really looking to join the dark side?”

“Yup! Didn't pay for this convention badge for nothing!”

“Why? Why the change of heart?” Villain was unsure but handed them one of the forms anyway.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” They filled it out on the table, and Villain couldn’t help but notice the way they dotted some of the i's with hearts, or that sometimes they ended their sentences with smiley faces, or — OKAY, THAT WAS ENOUGH PRYING!

Villain let the applicant, because that’s what they were right now, fill out their form in privacy while they sat down and finished their lunch.

“HERO?” said someone and everyone’s head turned first at the speaker and then at where they were staring.

“IT’S OKAY, EVERYONE! I HAVE A BADGE, SEE?” But it didn’t matter because a million smoke bombs burst from all directions till only Hero, Villain and Other Villain (the speaker) were left.

Hero sighed.

“I cannot afford the convention fine for this,” they mumbled.

“HERO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Other Villain had taken out their weapons but were holding them loosely, like they were holding a piece of paper and not deadly apparatus.

“Hi, Other Villain. I was applying for a henchman job. What about you?”

“YOU? A HENCHMAN? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

“I’m leaving the hero business. See?” They held out their badge that had failed to pacify the convention-goers, something they had been clearly threatened against.

“And you didn't tell me? I thought we were nemeses!”

“We are! Er, at least, we were? I honestly haven’t told anyone I’m leaving the biz, it’s not personal, believe me.”

“It just… it’s fine. Never mind, it’s fine. I don’t care.” They… sniffled?

“Don’t be like that, Other Villain!" Hero went up and put an arm around them. "I didn’t mean it! I just didn’t want anyone to find out till everything was set in stone, y’know?”

“Fine, fine, whatever. I don’t care.”

"Other Villain, I didn't mean it like that." But they weren't listening. They had started walking away, head down and wiping at their face.

"Sorry, Villain. Duty calls. Let me know if there's anything more you need for my application, yeah?"

Hero then ran after their ex-nemesis, ready to wrap them in their cape made of soft fluffy faux fur just for this purpose.

... Fin? 💼🧸

Notes:

Tried to be gender neutral but had to work with what Canva gave me :/

Yes, Hero's cape is soft and fluffy and made with actual pillow covers!

Yes, the ending is rushed on purpose. Not feeling most of my snippets so just gonna post them to clear them out. So the endings will be rushed, like this one. (sometimes you just gotta stop being a perfectionist so you can move to other things, y'know?)

I also realized while working on this that I've never actually been to a career fair :/ idk what happens there, I just guessed here, no research :/

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

Writing journey:

Turns out I like the vibe of and prompts of fluffy oblivious x smitten, but turning it into a two-way relationship is just not my thing. Not even a qpp. Just can't do relationships lol. My characters are gonna be oblivious x smitten or smitten x not smitten for life.

For this, I tried to go for an actual beginning, middle, end, but I had more fun with the convention card and now want to tangent from the fluffy prompt into more world of heroes and villains intricacies, like more documents and domestic interactions, and more into the reason why Hero has decided to give up heroics (idk why yet lol, I think I had a reason but forgot). It's just more interesting to me to write something plot-y or ridiculous or dramatic with a side of crushing, than trying to write 2 characters' journey to a romantic relationship. Just not me.

Shout out to @just-a-space-rabbit for the idea of Other Villain's reaction.

And to @world-of-fire-and-flight @tratieisdabest @eahravinqueen @just-a-space-rabbit because I was excited and proud of the card and showed it to them :D I showed it to more people coz I just love it so much!!!!! 🤩🥰💞💞💞

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romeulusroy · 2 years

Text

Please Tell Me I'm Wrong (Matt Murdock Drabble)

Character/s: Matt

Word Count: 841

Inspired By: Habits by Genevieve Stokes

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @glitchybrit @lost-girl-of-onceuponatime

A/N: This is my first fic in what feels like an eternity. I've been struggling with my body and I know that writing always helps. I understand this can be a triggering topic so please, if you need to, don't read it! Your body holds you and cares for you and you should remember that. Don't hurt it for trying to hold you, hug you, keep you together. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLISTS / TAG LIST

There is a softness to you unlike anyone else. In the way you feel, in the way you are, in the way you exist.

Stretch marks, pale and pulsing, as alive as the pooling veins beneath your skin. They live and breathe, they move with you despite your own thoughts. They are stuck to you, tattooed, the ink still wet and staining. Across thighs, arms, calves, stomachs, back. On all the worst places, you’ve decided one day on a whim. On all the worst places. It is an anthem, a tune, you can’t get out of your head. Every time you look, or worse, feel, your own body you are filled with a disgust, a hatred, a shock that one cannot shake by simply “loving” themselves. It goes deeper, this misunderstanding. It is a language outdated, abandoned long before you were born, with no hope of learning. It is a genetic mistake. Why can’t you look like them? Why do you have to look like you? An error in your code, a fault in the solar system, the system itself. Tall, thin, wispy. No one has ever called you wispy. Fragile. Delicate. If they had, it would be in a mocking tone. A joke. You could never describe yourself as such without lying to yourself, to the mirror. Part of you wants it to shatter at the idea of you. Another dreads that, as if it could ever happen. There are bumps, lumps, rolls, patterns etched into the backs of your thighs. There is a number on the scale in which your body sits comfortably, safely at, and yet you find no home in this body of yours. There is no warmth. It is a war that has lasted a lifetime, that will be the end of you one day, you are sure of it.

He does not feel the same way. How can he when he can’t see it?

Your one saving grace. He does not see the way you examine yourself so brutally, with too much attention. Spots of every shade, dark and red and all kinds of angry. Across your cheeks, between your thighs, in the inbetween of your body. Your awful, tortured body. There are thousands of poems comparing bodies unlike yours to stars, to the sea, to something beautiful. Something to yearn for. Something desirable. Scars are only ever wanted when they’re not on you. When you don’t wear them. It is an all consuming hatred. It follows you from every reflective surface, every dream and nightmare, every time you get dressed in the morning and strip yourself in the dark of night. It is awful. It is hurtful. It pains you, and yet, you put none of it into words. How can you? It's delusional. You’re being cruel.

He doesn’t have to see to understand. The sighs, the way your whole body tenses when he hugs you, his hands moving up and down. You reject yourself in the fullest way. You have never done anything, believed in anything, half-assed. It is devastating, the way you see yourself when you undermine everything about you. The most stunning creature he has ever fallen for, been lucky enough to fall for him. Your skin, that has protected you from every bump and bruise, every hurdle life has ever thrown at you. Your hands, soft and sweet, holding on to him, holding yourself when you’ve been at your loneliest. Your legs, curved and strong, holding you still, like stone, impossibly stubborn. He reads your stretch marks with the tips of his fingers. They tell a story of a life, lived to the fullest, surviving the worst anyone could imagine. Your scars reminders that you have, and continue to, heal despite it all. Matt has never found an imperfection with your body. He has tried as hard as you do, but there is nothing. The spots, the scars, the bruises and bumps, it is a collection, the history of you, what you’ve endured.

A history of who you are. Without it, without you, it would just be a body. A skeleton. You bring it to life. You make it laugh until it cries. You make is scratch against his morning stubble, in need of kisses. You hold it against him in the cold of night, the two of you fitting together perfectly, in the steam of the shower where he washes your hair, impossibly close as if he’s afraid to lose you in that moment. He will, eventually. When you’re standing in front of the mirror, afraid to look at the entirety of you. When a picture is taken and you hadn’t realized, left to study the image, the act. He loses you again and again, falling back into old habits, so he makes the most of it when he has you all to himself. When he has your mind and body. It's then that he reminds you until he's out of breath how captivating you have always been, hoping one day it will be enough to change your mind.

#writing #matt murdock #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock oneshot #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil drabble #daredevil oneshot #daredevil x reader #marvel #marvel drabble #marvel oneshot #marvel x reader #x reader #drabble #oneshot

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notanotherreidgirl · 3 years

Note

I just had an idea based on my recent health experience: What if Spence had to wear a Holter for 24 or 72 hours to measure his heart's activity (maybe as part of the FBIs health checks) ? And he has to take notes of everything he does so that they can match it with the information collected so he cannot have sex or masturbate unless he's willing to justify his increased heart activity to a team of doctors. So, reader being reader, decides to drive him nuts, teasing him again and again because she knows he can't do anything about it. (Does he end up cumming in his pants because he's trying so hard not to touch himself and increase his heart rate?) ☺️🥰

Love ya! Have a great day!

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, edging, blowjob, grinding, coming in pants

Word Count: 1380 (i'm inclined to just call this a full fic)

A/N: First, an apology. This has been in my inbox for quite a while and I am very sorry about the wait. Secondly, I made this entire scenario up after doing some minimal research on Holter monitors so it might not make sense.

Spencer gave Hotch’s door a light tap before taking a deep breath and then giving two sharp knocks. “Come in”

The door swung open and Derek patted him on the shoulder with a smile as he exited, no doubt having just received a glowing report regarding his physical health. Spencer dropped into the seat, casting a quick glance at the team of health professionals on Hotch’s couch and immediately regretting it. They were very clinical looking - pressed white lab coats, hair combed and gelled back, clipboards piled with papers, already scribbling away and speaking among themselves in hushed voices. “Ok Dr. Reid, we just have a few questions to ask you regarding your health practices and then we’ll take a look at the results from the Holter Monitor. Is that alright?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, that’s fine” he glanced over at Hotch who was leafing through Spencer’s notes with a raised eyebrow. The first few questions about his diet and lifestyle practices were easy but then came the dreaded evaluation of the Holter measurements. “Now we just have a few questions about some of the readings from the Holter. I see there was a bit of a spike right after you put it on that you attributed to nerves?”

“O-oh uh yeah, I was just a little nervous about having it on. That was it.” But that wasn’t the exact truth.

---

You had Spencer sit cross-legged on the bed without his shirt when he came home with the Holter. He was explaining how it worked as you studied the diagram detailing how to put it on. You slipped the wearable recording device over his head and climbed into his lap, surreptitiously rocking your hips into his as you untangled the wires. His hands encircled your waist, adjusting your angle so your clothed core ran against his entire length. You attached the electrodes carefully, kissing each patch of skin before covering it. His breath came out in soft pants as his release mounted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was about to come, you clicked the machine on and his eyes flew open.

“Wait, Y/N! I can’t - I’m supposed to keep my heart rate down.” The panic in his voice was evident and you smirked. If there was one thing you knew about Spencer it was that he liked succeeding. One might even say he liked winning - 3 Ph.Ds, prolific poker player, unsubs behind bars - so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that he was keen on passing his health evaluation. You trailed a hand down his chest, feeling the pounding heart he was trying to calm with deep breaths. “If you say so, doc”

---

The evaluator’s next question snapped him from his reverie. “That sounds fine but there was a concerning increase in your heart activity at 2 AM. It says here that you were exercising, specifically sprinting?”

Spencer dropped the pen he had been twirling and dove under his chair to get it. “Ah yes, I - uh - those are my nightly sprints.”

If Hotch’s eyebrows went up any farther they’d disappear in his hairline. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation when he spotted your face peeking out through an opening in his office blinds. You darted away quickly, sprinting back to your desk. Meanwhile, Spencer mentally chastised himself for his lack of self-restraint, saying that he was doing sprints at 2 AM was stupid but it was the only thing he could think of that could somewhat explain his elevated heart rate without revealing his actual activities.

---

He couldn’t sleep with the monitor on, tossing and turning in your arms until he rolled onto his back and let out a frustrated huff. You sleepily propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

He scooted in closer, curling his body into yours and burying his face into your tits. He whined, “Can’t sleep with this thing on me”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to make you feel better?” You dipped a hand down the front of his pajama pants and he automatically pressed his hips forward, used to you soothing him in this way after nightmares. He was already half-hard and you stroked him softly before sliding down the bed. His whimpers at the loss of your breasts exploded into loud moans as you swallowed his length, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and sucking at the tip before taking him back into your throat. Usually, you would take your time but you were feeling particularly wicked tonight, bringing a hand up to cradle his balls as the other forced his wild hips down onto the bed. Once again you pulled away just as his orgasm began to materialize and he threw his head back against the pillows, whines devolving into a choked sob. “We wouldn’t want to mess up your Holter results, now would we?”

Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

---

“Well Dr. Reid, this kind of activity is most unusual and frankly quite concerning. Your heart rate even shot up right before you returned the monitor which you again attributed to nerves.” Spencer’s face reddened as he recalled the events that transpired that morning.

---

He was pacing down a vacant hallway in the basement of the Bureau, willing his nerves away. He was sure he would fail. Could you even fail one of these evaluations? Probably. If anyone could fail it would be Spencer. Between the events of the last 24 hours and the fact that Derek was going right before him, he knew he was screwed. And then as if the universe were conspiring against him there you were coming out of the printer room, heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying, a form-fitting blouse leaving just enough to the imagination. And Spencer had a very vivid imagination. Watching you float towards him was really all it took to have him standing at attention, heart rate skyrocketing. But you were ever the overachiever, threading his tie between your fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. Your knee came up between his legs and he automatically rocked into you, still worked up from your relentless denial. You ran your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and applying even more pressure. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Trying your very hardest to control yourself. It’s adorable.”

It didn’t even occur to Spencer that he had to return the monitor along with his notes in less than 10 minutes, he was cumming in his pants as soon as the praise left your lips, whining into your mouth as he finally attained his long-awaited release. He looked down at you in shock as you stepped back. “Shit, Y/N! What do I do? They’re gonna call me up in 5 minutes!”

You gave him a mocking look of sympathy as you smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Guess you better get cleaned up then”

---

“Dr. Reid, I’d like to see you again for a follow-up.” The doctor on the left scribbled their name on the bottom of a form and handed it to Spencer. He gave the paper a quick glance before looking over at Hotch with wide eyes. Help me.

Hotch sighed, taking the form from Spencer and giving it a quick scan before returning it to the evaluation team. “As we know, Dr. Reid has had a tumultuous history with these physical assessments. However, he is an invaluable member of this team and has proven himself in the field time and time again. I don’t see any reason to prolong this evaluation. Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe Dr. Reid was your last appointment of the day”

They protested but Hotch fixed them with his trademark stare and they stood up to leave. “Very well, but Dr. Reid will not be exempt from his yearly fitness test this time.”

Spencer gulped, watching them file out the room. He turned to Hotch thanking him as he took his file and turned to leave, glad it was over. But before he could leave, Hotch cleared his throat. “I take it Y/N will be helping you train for your fitness test”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub!spence coming in his pants is something that can be so personal #lanie's 1k celebration!#unsuitable for work

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

♡ GENSHIN IMPACT + HOW LOVE FINDS THEM ♡

➳ ft. kaeya, diluc, zhongli, tartaglia

➳ tags ;; tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol as a coping mechanism, a little angst but happy endings always, extreme kaeya bias ngl, spoilers for kaeyas story, nonsexual nudity, gn!reader

➳ a/n ;; first time writing for genshin so if the characterization is funky.. my fault

➳ summary ;; genshin impact characters and how i think love finds them when they find you

ZHONG-LI

Sometimes, he admits to himself, it feels forbidden to love you.

When love finds him, it is on the stairway of a small cottage, tucked into a corner of Liyue. It is quiet and unassuming, more importantly shared. A place you’ve decided to spend hefty mora on to live in.

There’s a backyard and a space for a garden and there are sweet flowers that always seem to regrow after you pick them. On the walls are weapons and hunting gear but in the drawers are spare clothes and change. It’s got two stories but it’s not big. It’s a home, still.

You’ve invited him inside, an adopted street-cat at your feet as you make dinner. Zhong-li is a working man, but he spends his days off here. You are an adventurer, strong with a big heart and bigger dreams. Your silhouette makes up all the shadows that dance on the wall and you sway to the beat of a soundless song. A smile makes the corners of your lips twitch up and you stir the pot of whatever you're making with boundless enthusiasm.

Zhong-li would not wish godliness on anyone. He thinks about it often. Where Rex Lapis ends and where the human, the mortal Zhong-li starts is a blurred line. Humanity is a grieving thing. People live and are happy and then they pass and it is the only thing someone can guarantee. You will be born into the world tearful but you will pass silently - like a wind.

Godliness means little is forbidden to you. Reality is something you fumble with in your clumsy hands and hope you can get right and humanity is a grieving thing. Always in that order. He knows there is no such thing as love that is truly forbidden - feelings like love and sadness and joy are things that cannot be settled by contracts or understood. They simply exist as if they are their own religion.

Zhong-li watches you pick up a white furred cat and let it’s nose rest against yours for a brief moment. You hug it and sing to it like it is a child and when you’re done, you let it fondly nudge against your legs.

“Stop being bad and let me cook dinner,” you’ll say, like it knows. And maybe it does - Zhong-li thinks to himself that it might. It prances off and sleeps in the basket you’ve bought, covered in blankets and linens. He stares at you for a long while, his eyes dancing down your silhouette.

There is something remarkably human about love. Perhaps love is the one thing gods cannot truly get their hands on. This greed, this loneliness, this tender feeling - so soft it might fall apart in his hands. In all of his years of living, he likes to believe he has known love. For his companions and for his people.

But this affection that soaks his bones, greedy and aching to be cared for, must be something only a human could get their hands on. He thinks he could only love you like this with his mortal body, his beating heart and dry mouth. With golden eyes that blink at you, curious to know what you’ll do or say next. If humanity is grieving, perhaps love is acceptance. Reconciliation. Maybe the reason no human complains about a short life is because they, at least once, have loved.

He thinks he understands it briefly. If redoing everything meant he couldn’t be with you, even once, he would keep it all the same. What a sentiment. He smiles at you as you dance and the sunlight hits the bare skin of your thighs, buried in the expanse of your skin. He longs to be so close to you too.

Remembering he can choose to be so close to you. That he can act upon this insatiable desire to be loved. It feels forbidden and unreachable.

But it isn’t.

He holds out his hand to you and you pause, tilting your head before taking it. He stands and wraps his arms around your waist and stares down at you with so much affection you falter. His lips press against the crown of your head. You’re warm and real.

When love finds him, it is just like this. Under the setting sun of Teyvat, harbored in his mortal body.

TARTAGLIA

You never wrap his wounds with care.

The process is rough and not very quick. It must be comfortable for you to put your hands on him because you never seem to show him any mercy. He’ll enter your quarters with something like a wince. A wound - red and bleeding in his shoulder. He’s got his blazer dragged down his biceps, an uneasiness on his face as he drops into the room. You’re clearly busy doing something, but that’s never stopped him before.

Wordlessly, he drops himself into the chair to the left of the little table in your room. He sits in it before dropping his head back, looking at you upside down. A frown etched into your features, eyes low and exasperated. You give him a look of discontent that he returns with a shit-eating grin. His heart stutters when you stand but he says it’s blood loss. You shut your book and place it on your bedside table.

Underneath your bed is the first aid kit, which you grab - swift like ocean waves. He scoots back until he’s facing you. You stare down at him for a long while, brow furrowing. He gives you a dizzying smile.

“You’re staring,” ― he proclaims, brunette hairs sticking to sweaty skin ― “Do you like the view?”

You ignore him. Instead, you place your first aid kit with a slam onto the table and rummage through it. Nimble fingers quickly take out clear vials of alcohol, bandages, a pair of small scissors and some creams of your own making. He thinks you’re brilliant and he wants to tell you as much but the words feel too unruly, too soft spoken from his mouth. He stares at you for a long while, his eyes so forlorn by your lack of attention that you speak.

It’s a sigh first like the wave of a white flag.

“Take your shirt off,”

“Take me for dinner first at least,”

You give him an unimpressed look.

He replies by sliding his shirt off his shoulders with a little grunt. Worry plasters itself all over your face and you don’t make any attempt to hide it. He watches as you walk towards the opposite end of the room - grabbing a towel and a bowl of water. You clean the wound by pressing on it, even though it seems like the blood has dried. It’s rough - you’re rough with him. A sharp inhale of air makes its way through his teeth.

You don’t apologize, nor do you want to. He watches as you clean the blood off and then inspect the wound for a long while. Afterwards, you mumble underneath your breath, speaking mostly to yourself than to him.

“No stitches needed.. that’s good,”

You sound so relieved his heart aches. There’s a brief moment of silence where neither of you know what to say and Tartaglia stares at you with soft eyes. There is always this longing feeling. A constancy to his need for your touch that brings him to his knees, weakens his resolve until he’s stumbling to your bedroom instead of going to see a doctor or a god. He needs you before he needs forgiveness or life. For him, loving you is an act one can only describe as selfish

He knows this because he still comes to you like this, body bruised and battered. When your worry filled eyes look over his skin, he feels like a second rain has come. Your concern is it’s own addiction, intoxicated by it. It is selfish to want you to worry, even more so to make sure of it.

But how else can he hold your love if not to make you look at it? How else can he know love if it’s not in the furrow of your brow or the way you push him so hard. When you get angry for him and at him. What is love if not a violence? If not teeth in the nape of his neck or your fingers on his bruises?

You rub alcohol in his wounds to clean them before taking your fingers and dipping them into a cream. It smells like mint, making his eyes water. You do this step with care, running your hands over fierce marks and scars with heartbreak written all over your eyes.

Love must be a violence. It must be - this stinging feeling in the way you look at him like he is a dead man walking. Love must be a hurricane that rips through him. A storm, an uncentered and reckless devotion. He thinks, even if it was your hands who gave him this wound, he would ask you again to heal it.

Tears spill at your lashes. He softens, smiles.

“C’mere”

You relent, give in. Exhaustion settling in your bones you let yourself be wrapped into his arms. He holds you to him, lets you be frustrated with him. He is too, would you know?

Love finds him like this, in your room. Begging you to look at him, getting drunk off the taste of your devotion. You squeeze his heart in your palms and he lets you. He would let you a hundred times over.

KAEYA

Sobriety is a fragile thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like being sober, but he spends most of his time around liquor. It’s comforting - the smell, the rush of heat - not scorching but warm, the dizziness. Kaeya doesn’t drink enough to have a drinking problem but more times than not, he wonders if there are answers at the bottom of a bottle. If maybe he chases the end of the pint, he can find answers on his own misery.

Sobriety is.. fragile in that way. So easily he could drink himself to sleep but he has duty and responsibility. A life to live and sins to atone for but the laundry list of them just keeps growing larger. Bigger than his dexterous hands can cover for. It’s not that he’s miserable or lonely, but there is this lingering hollowness in his chest.

On his fathers birthday, he sits on the rooftop and drinks. He takes about 3 days off, every year, just for this. He’ll sit on the rooftop of the tavern day of, legs swinging off the edge as the world becomes an array of color beneath him. His thumb is over the mouth of the wine bottle, and he moves it just to drink.

The sound of your voice doesn’t startle him, but it makes goosebumps appear on his skin. He’s clad in a thin white dress shirt and it prickles as the breezes brushes by him. His chest is warm as you drop yourself down next to him.

At first, all you do is sit silently. Leaning back on your palms, you watch the stars and constellations shimmer like they always do in Teyvat. He smells strongly of alcohol but it’s nothing to scrunch your nose at. He takes another drink. Unsure of how to handle his misery, his grief gracefully at all - he gives you a strained smile.

“Has someone come to join me in my demise,” ― his voice is raspy when he speaks but he doesn’t miss a bit ― “How apt,”

Wordlessly, you take the bottle from his hands. He’s about to argue with you to give it back but instead, he watches you take three long gulps before pouring the rest out. Shocked, he watches it drip down the tile and onto the concrete below.

“Why’re you...”

You don’t reply with words but instead, lay back and drag him down with you. He can’t help but wonder what you’re doing. He lays down anyway, back hitting the tile as he blinks.

“How long do you plan on living like this?”

There’s no hidden meaning to your words. They are straightforward and laced with nothing but honesty. It makes him choke back a sob, the way you ask. Without much left to give, he cracks a barren smile.

“What could you possibly mean?”

Normally, you’d laugh at his despair. At his attempt at nonchalance. But you don’t, turning to your side to look at him. You reach your hand out to rest on his chest and he grabs your hand, shutting his eyes. Tears pool at his lashes but he laughs anyways.

“Kaeya,” ― you say, rubbing his chest and scooting in close to him. He turns to face you, for real, for the first time ― “How long, Kaeya?”

He doesn’t sob. Doesn’t cry or let himself be hurt. He gives you a misty smile and laughs as tears falls horizontal on his cheeks. You can hear his heart rate, erratic but slow.

“When it feels like enough.. when I’m forgiven,” he tells you.

“Whose forgiveness will it take? Dilucs?”

He shakes his head, unsure. You press your hand onto his skin, golden even in the cold blue of night. His cheeks are in your palms, he shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. You sigh as you wrap an arm around his waist, loose. You bring his body to yours, letting your fingers rest in his scalp. In the nape of your neck, warm tears rolls down your shoulder. Your body is a safety like a brick house - like no wind or storm and disaster could ever take him from you. When he lets his cries turn into sobs, he mourns.

A life he doesn’t remember but atones for. The only family he ever had. For Kaeya, love finds him like this - grieving. A loneliness tearing him apart at the seams, frayed and long forgotten. Love comes to him while he is in tatters, offering itself to him.

“I forgive you, Kaeya,”― you repeat to him, over and over like an incantation ― “I forgive,”

This is how love finds him, in your arms. Forgiven

DILUC

He rests his head against your knee, body stiff after a long day. It’s a wordless evening - sky painted with a layer of pink and orange. It pours into the room in heavy waves, paints his pale skin with a warn shade of pink. His skin is warm from the heat as his shoulders slump in exhaustion.

You drag your fingers down his scalp before letting them slip beneath the hairtie that keeps his red hairs up. You drag it slowly, carefully down his back until it’s free. Red and unkempt - tangled from days out in the wilds. You give it a quick brush through, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

There’s not a proper bathroom here - far out and away from the city. It’s an old house with an outhouse and dusty floors. After a particular difficult encounter with an Abyss Mage, you’d found refuge into the abandoned location. Without a bathroom, it would be hard to freshen up but you gave Diluc a playful half-grin.

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,”

He thought you were kidding but now the two of you are out by the lake. And this is too intimate for two people who are really only supposed to be working together. It’s too gentle, the way your fingers comb through his red hairs and the little bottled shampoo you keep in your bag.

There’s something about the way you touch his scalp so careful that is too intimate. His shirt is somewhere inside, over the back of a chair. Pale skin that’s hot to the touch as your fingers work through each individual hair. A long, tired sigh leaves his mouth.

“So much hair,” ― your murmur under your breath. A blush turns him hot. His father was a good man.. affectionate and caring and proper. But this is different. Too much, even ― “But it looks good on you,”

You say it so easily. Just like how you touch him - unconcerned for what it means. For Diluc, the idea of romantic love is something awkward. It is clumsy and confusing. Love, has always been something that hurts, more than it has healed.

But his head is resting on your thigh and you’re touching him like he’s precious. As if he’d break if you’re too rough with him. There is an intimacy in it. A well-meaning and innocent love in the shape of your fingers and how they drag against his skull.

“...You’re so forward,” he tsks. You give him a gentle laugh, running your hands down his jaw and tilting his head back so he’s facing up at you. Your hands cradle his face with delicacy, thumb dragging across his jaw bone and admiring him. You’re being sincere, but he can’t meet your eyes.

“You don’t like it?” you ask him. He grabs your hands and puts them away, huffing under his breath. He is childish like this, with you and only you. No longer the Dark Knight or Master Diluc. Easy to jealousy and even easier to agitation, the kind of man who the world stops for seems to crumble at your feet.

“No,” he replies, unusually dishonest.

You lean forward until your arms are wrapped around his barren shoulders. He can feel your skin against his, the way your heartbeat sounds, the fanning of breath of his throat. It’s too much but he can’t move as your arms wrap around his shoulders. You know too much, see too much. There is something so all-knowing about the way you love him. How you tease him.

Love is a worship when it finds him. You are the closest thing to heaven he has ever believed in - sheer bliss in the way your eyes linger on his silhouette. Diluc is a devout lover for you, a follower in your all-knowing religion of love. Of affection. He leans his head back again to look at you as you look down at him, smiling.

“You’re troublesome to love, you know that?” he admits to you. You bend down to meet his lips in a kiss. Chaste. Holy

A smile parts your lips that Dliuc finds himself mirroring.

“Of course I do,”

Love finds him like this, in your arms - skin to skin underneath the summer sun. Alone in the fields of tall-grass and wheat. Love finds him like a religion, so much devotion and prayer for you to keep him in your heart always. He knows he would do anything for you.

#genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #writing #formal #there must be mnat errors in this but its 5am and i am sleepy.. take it or leave it <3

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

because I need that good loving can I request Diluc and Zhongli reaction to seeing there SO dressed up for a formal event even though its not something they really like doing but because they dont want to make Diluc/Zhongli look bad in front of all these other people they put all their effort into looking like the human embodiment of attractiveness.

the way you look tonight

(okay so truth time - I thought about you the whole time I was writing this and forgot you requested it -- I hope the love of these boys reminds you that you are lovely <3!)

Warning -> SFW, fluff / comfort (cussing(1))(self-conscience reader)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Zhongli ⚘, Diluc

Zhongli

He finds your normal style of dress unique and interesting, it’s unlike most of the people who make up Liyue’s landscape and it’s independently you

When someone lives their life in the way they want to, that's what Zhongli admires the most about people, about humans

He doesn’t mind what you wear, he would want anyone to meet you, to see you regardless because through his eyes he sees your attractiveness - it’s in the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you react when something makes you excited or when he gives you a gift you don’t expect - how could he hide you away and not let others see the way you glow?

You look at yourself for the tenth time in the large circular mirror. An hour had gone by and you still felt unusual, out of place, like a fraud in this attire. For the, you’ve lost count, time you fuss with the fabric that sits against your stomach, tugging on it, wondering if you should leave it open or closed. The most frustrating thing about this is that you had no idea how to wear this damn thing.

Your head falls onto the vanity and you do your best to hold it all in. With a deep breath, you go back to messing with your hair and face. The ticking clock behind you reminds you that time is not your friend no matter how much you want it to stop.

This is so hard for you, of course, you want to be there for Zhongli - he was there for everything you ever did, it was beyond time to repay him - but you just couldn’t find the confidence to be proud of what you’d done. So, shaping the image in your brain into a distorted representation of what you wished you looked like, you stood from your small chair and walked toward the door of the bedroom.

Your shoes click on the hardwood floor which is something you hate, the thought of people hearing you coming only to see what appears from the source of the sound makes your skin crawl. Still, you pressed on, and that’s when your eyes fell onto the immaculate figure that stands near the entrance. His tall, elegant frame is so intense it knocks the wind from your lungs as if someone just punched you in the stomach. How can I stand next to that … you panic and turn to retreat back into the safety of the bedroom when your arms collide with a small table in the hallway.

Objects fall to the ground and, in a ridiculous display of your clumsy nature, you juggle one of the more breakable objects before catching it moments from shattering on the floor below.

“Whew …” You exclaim, bringing it close to your body. “Sorry, little guy didn’t mean to do that.” You wince, patting its side before place it back onto its home and picking up the other objects from the ground.

Long fingers enter your field of vision, startled you stand only to see Zhongli reaching down to assist you.

“Ah, sorry.” You express, crossing your arms after putting the items in your hands half-hazard onto the surface.

“No need to apologize, are you injured?” He asks, standing himself and reminding you how tall he is.

“My pride, maybe.” You share, laughing through your embarrassment.

“Too much of that and we might find ourselves in trouble anyway.” He looks down at you, his eyes scanning, interested and making you shift under their gaze. “You …”

“I know... I look so strange, and,” you begin, fussing with the top again, “I can’t seem to get this right.” Turning around you show him what you were talking about and how it seems far too loose.

He laughs softly and you feel his hands run underneath the edge of the fabric and coming to rest at the wrap at your waist. “Let me assist you.”

“Thank you …” He’s so close to you, his hands move expertly as they work to correct your inadequacies, eyes compassionate, patient as they always are.

“This outfit suits you.”

“Does it really? I look so … I mean this isn’t something I would normally wear. In fact,” You think for a minute before continuing, “I can’t remember the last time I dressed up for something other than adventuring. It’s not practical to go running through ruins in this type of getup.” You explain, lifting your arms and watching how the fabric slips down to your elbows before sliding back to your wrists as they collide with your legs.

“That could turn things into quite the challenge I’d imagine.”

“Exactly.”

“Nevertheless, you will turn quite a many heads upon our arrival.”

“That’s what I'm afraid of …” You mumble, forgetting that he is close enough to hear you.

“Y/N, need I remind you how spectacular you look.”

You bite your lip but your insecurities make you speak anyway, “I just don’t see how I have the right to stand next to you, I don’t want you to be … ashamed of me.” The end of your sentence trails off as you look to the ground. Zhongli doesn’t respond until his hands stop fixing your gown. With comforting fingers he presses against the soft underbelly of your chin, lifting your head at the angle it should be.

“While I am beyond sure you can hear me, I hope that you can trust me as well when I tell you that every day I am honored to stand at your side. There is nothing in this world which compares to your beauty, in fact, you are more radiant than the moon itself.” He leans in to place a kiss against your forehead.

“You don’t wish I was … more attractive?”

“I cannot wish for a thing that holds no bearing on reality.”

“Mmm.”

“If my words have not reached you, perhaps I can better express my truth through actions …” He pulled you flush against him, his hands now wrapped around your hips and eyes focused on your lips.

“Aa! Wait … no, I believe you.” Embarrassed, you push away from him and make your way toward the door. “Let’s just go because if I get out of this thing I won’t be putting it back on.” You huff, smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Shall we?” He reaches for your hand and easily you take it.

“Let’s do this.” With a lighthearted Zhongli, you exit your home and head toward the lively sounds drifting over the water.

Diluc

He already thinks you are so incredibly attractive no matter what you wear - he knows you’re one for practicality, from your actions to your clothes, you are ready to go and prepared for whatever will come your way - a trait he admires

There is something adorable about the way you fall out of bed in the morning and, in some cases, take less time than he does to get ready - it can come in handy where there much work to be done

He never asks for you to be more than what you are - he honestly wouldn’t care what other people thought about you, all that matters is you believe him when he tells you how good you look or how you make his heart clench

So when he sees you descend the stairs in an outfit, a formal, totally out-of-the-absolute-norm outfit, he’s stunned

“Crap.” You say, flinging the jewelry you couldn’t decide on anyway back toward the dresser. You’d taken far too long to get ready, even though you started hours ago, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel confident and finished. Glancing at your reflection one last time, you gave up with a heavy sigh and made your way down the hallway.

You could already see everyone else in their formal attire ready to go, even the attendants looked better than you did. When you caught sight of Diluc your steps slowed and for a solid minute to you debated about turning around and hiding under the comfortable covers of the bed you loathed getting out of this morning.

“Ah, there you are! Are you ready?” Adaline shouted from below you and like a scene from a nightmare everyone turned to look up at you. You stumbled backward and felt your chest tighten, eyes scanning each face as you debated on your next action. When they fell onto Diluc’s stoic eyes, you felt a little bit of relief and knew all you had to do was make it down to him.

Slowly, you started again and, with a deathlike grip on the railing, you made your way down the stairs. Diluc met you at the bottom, his hand extended to take yours.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out what would pair well with … this thing.” You gestured at your outfit and looked behind him, thankful that people had already started to leave through the front door. “Do I … look okay?”

With an awkward smile, you waited for his answer, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard to lie to you. I mean, when you were able to see him in his suit, the way it perfectly fits around his toned body, the fabric tucked in all the right places, the sleeves just long enough to give one a peek of skin underneath - there was no way you compared to him.

He looked at you for so long your heart started to feel like a thousand knives were stabbing you in all directions. He hates this … he can’t believe that I’m such a disaster. The thoughts circulate in your brain and just as your about to rush back up the stairs and hide he lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses them with so much love.

“I apologize … I’m just a bit startled is all.” Your stomach drops to your feet at his words.

“Archons, is it that bad? Did I put something on wrong … or?”

“Nothing like that,” He kisses your palm and the action makes your spine turn hot, “You look unbelievable, is what I wanted to say.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He looks at you but you shy away from his eyes. “Y/N, do you trust me?”

“What … of course I trust you.” You reply, flabbergasted.

“Then trust me now.” He pulls you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your neck, his hand resting at the back of your head. “I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you.”

Fueled by your emotions, you return his hug, squeezing your arms around his waist and doing your best not to let your face be ruined by the tears that want to fall from stinging eyes. “Thank you, I’ll trust you on this … today.”

“I don’t have any issues reminding you again and again.” Shouting outside tells you that it’s now or never and, as much as you don’t want to, your arms release each other. “Are you ready?” He asks, offering you his arm, and with a deep inhale and sharp nod, you take it and walk through the doors.

----

taglist: @star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @pepperoncinipizza @handswritteeen @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @lucifucker @beelsdessert @coolcats09 @ninqat @musekala @sufzku @mooshymello @heavenlyang @plenilunegazes @odafashioned @glazelilyy

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #Zhongli X reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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anonair · 2 years

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐊𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none <3

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: ANON

Sarah was on the verge ending her early 20’s. Nothing felt the same anymore. The young, wild party girl she was just didn’t define her anymore. She started feeling as if she was missing out on the most important things in her life like starting a family and getting married. It was basic when she put it like that, but she couldn’t help the feelings that emerged from within her.

A while back, she had decided to talk to Klaus about her desires. She assumed they’d be on the same page, but to her surprise, he wasn’t. With that, six months of love went down the drain. The feeling of emptiness consumed her, but the feeling of confusion also found its way to creep into her mind. Why not her? Why didn’t Klaus want to grow a family with her if he loved her like he said he did? It wasn’t fair to her.

Sarah found herself at Klaus’ door, the thoughts wouldn’t let her rest. Even though it was 1 in the morning, she knew Klaus would be there to ease her mind. Her hands rose up to reach the door, knocking on it lightly before waiting for a response. What was she thinking? She quickly changed her mind, turning around and deciding to walk to her car. Before she could open the door, Klaus voice filled her ears. “What are you doing here so late, love?” He asked. Immediately, she sighed. The saddening emotions filled her heart, making her realize how much she missed Klaus. “I couldn’t sleep. The only person that could ease my mind would be you.” She spoke, turning her body so that her eyes would lock on his. “I’ve just been wondering about everything.” She said, looking down. Klaus closed his house door behind him before making his way over to Sarah. He lifted her head up before talking, “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” He sent a soft smile to her. She nodded.

They started their stroll down the street, a couple moments of silence followed them before Sarah broke it. “Why not me? Why didn’t you want to have kids with me?” She sighed before realizing how crazy she sounded. “You have Hope already, what stops you from having kids with me?” She continued, not being able to stop the train of thoughts coming from within her head. Klaus didn’t know what to say. Should he tell her, or shouldn’t he? At this point, he figured he would. He trusted her enough to believe she wouldn’t freak.

“It’s all too complicated, but to put the long, horrendous story to rest, I’m a hybrid.” They stopped walking, she turned to Klaus looking more lost than ever. “What even is a hybrid?” She asked. Klaus couldn’t help, but to laugh at her genuine confusion. However, he got more serious to explain more to her. “I am a vampire and a werewolf.” He admitted. “Which means I cannot physically have children with you.” He said. The look of confusion on Sarah’s face immediately changed to shock. Thankfully, she didn’t freak out at the words Klaus just spoke to her. “There is no way. You only read about that stuff in books, it’s not real!” She said, growing furious with his reply. She was in shock that he could say something so stupid to him. Before she could speak again, she watched Klaus jump from one spot to the next in a matter of a second. “How’d you do that?” She said, Klaus hearing the scared tone in her voice.

Immediately, he regretted his decision to tell her. She wasn’t ready to know and he realized that after the fact. He didn’t want to do what he was about to, but he had to. He knew it had to be done. Beofre she could scream, Klaus looked her deep in her eyes and started speaking, “You will forget me and this conversation. You won’t be sad anymore because you will not remember who I am. This will never even be a memory to you. I am letting you go.” Klaus eyes started watering up, but before the compelling finished, he kissed her forehead and disappeared.klaus Mikaelson

#klaus mikealson x reader #drabble #drabble challenge #drabble prompt #fanfiction #smut #klaus x caroline #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus #the originals fandom #the originals x you #the originals imagine #the originals smut #the originals

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elles-writing · 3 years

Text

Daughter Moments

Request: Hello! I’ve read your imagines they are sooo good! I was wondering if I can request a Kili x daughter reader? The ploy can be anything you want but the reader has to be kilis daughter pls? Thankyou!!❤️

Requested by @imagines4everyone

A/N: First of all, thank you so much!! I hope you will like it!

Then also...The ending is my favourite.

Triggers: mentions of injuries, scars, angst, feels (if there's any more, let me know please!)

Tags: @guardianofrivendell @dumbassunderthemountain @imagines4everyone

Kili took a deep breath, as he looked over Dale. The town was beautiful, and he was lucky to be able to look at it during sunrise, every day, before he had to get back to his duties.

He felt the soft wind, running through his hair, and sun glittered in his deep brown eyes. He thought of his wife and daughter, and his mouth had soft dreamy smile in second.

When Kili came back to their shared chambers, he noticed Tauriel, gently stroking their ten months old Y/N's cheek.

"How are my two beautiful girls?" He chuckled, and his eyes were soft, as he looked down at his daughter and wife.

"Papa!" Y/N suddenly let out, and Tauriel and Kili looked at each other in shock and surprise. Their daughter just said her first word!

"You did it, Y/N! You did it!" Kili cried out, and started dancing across the room with his daughter in his arms. You giggled, and Tauriel watched the moment with tears in her eyes.

Five years later

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?" You frowned, when you noticed your father.

Kili was trying to make a surprise for Tauriel - his wife's birthday was a very special day to him, as well as your birthday - and this year, as any other, it was something sweet. Last year he made her a pair of twin daggers and got all her favourite sweets from bakeries around Dale.

This year, he decided to bake a cake.

Needless to say, it was very funny.

To watch, obviously.

You sat up on the chair, and Kili put his hands on his hips. You looked into the bowl, and giggled. You tasted a bit of it, and frowned.

"Uncle Fili said you can't bake, daddy." You shook your head. Kili nervously looked at you.

"What did uncle Fili say?" You looked at your dad, and decided to tell him everything.

"Well, Uncle Fili said you cannot bake, and that you only eat in the kitchen, and he was right," you said. Kili looked at the light-coloured dough.

"It is salty," you said, and Kili's eyes widened. He slapped his forehead.

"I really switched sugar and salt," Kili sat down to the table, and put his chin on his hands. You wanted to say something, but you noticed his eyes were filling with tears. You jumped off of the chair, and walked to him.

"Why are you crying, daddy?"

"I'm not crying," he said, and got up.

"Can I help you?" You gave him your best puppy-eye look, and Kili sighed.

You just had to get this from him.

"Okay."

When you finally finished the cake, the sun was rising, but you and Kili fell asleep, sitting by the table.

The finished cake was, however, worth it.

Twelve years later

"What did you say?" Kili frowned at you. You shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Kili's usually kind brown eyes had a spark of anger in them.

"That I don't care about you."

"Oh, this. Well, because it's true! You literally make any guy run away from me, and then you make me stay inside! How am I supposed to get to know at least one?"

"You have still enough time for boys." Your father shook his head, as if he tried to get out the idea of dating out as quickly as he could.

"Fine. But if anyone asks, it's your fault," you said half-upset, half-joking.

You almost opened the door, when you heard your father speak.

"You know I want you to have someone who truly loves you," you turned around.

"I...I, um..." Kili deeply sighed. He felt a bit of guilt about the misunderstanding.

"Sit down, please." You did as he said, and he gently took your hands to his.

"When I met your mother, I knew she was...the One. My One. I fell for her even more, when we talked for the first time. And a few years later, there was also you. I was holding you after you were born, and I promised I will make sure you will have the same kind of love, the person you will roll your eyes at, but know you wouldn't want them any other way."

"Dad, I-"

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried about you and want the best for you, but...the problem is, that in my eyes, nobody is good enough for you. I know you think it's the other way, but, it isn't. At least to me." You felt tears in your eyes.

"What do you think...mom would say?" You quietly whispered, as you felt tears in your eyes. He took a deep breath, probably to try to stop tears, too.

"Your mother would...secretly agree with me, but let you...let you go on an adventure, as long as you promise you are safe." Kili blinked to stop a tear, and sadly chuckled.

"You never know who you meet on an adventure."

You took his hands into yours, and gave him sad smile.

"She is alive. Trying to find her way back, from the orcs. Mom is a fighter."

"I believe too," he said, and looked outside. The sun slid across his face, and made his eyes spark, and showed you the way they used to shine when your mother was still there.

It's been a few months since you and your father talked, and you were on a ride from Hobbition. You liked to visit Bilbo and Frodo, and, as always, told each other news. When you almost got to Rivendell, you noticed someone lying down - with red hair. You stopped your horse, and jumped off of it.

You felt a rush of shock, when you realized who it was. She was full of cuts, but breathing.

You got to Rivendell safely, and when Lindir saw you, you let out just a whisper.

"Help her,"

You had no idea how did you end up in the working space of lord Elrond.

But, having soft blanket over your shoulders and sipping warm tea, after the shock, you wouldn't complain.

"Can I see her?" You whispered. Lord Elrond talked to a healer, and both of them looked at you.

"Your mother is asleep now," the healer carefully said. You nodded.

"Is she-"

"She is alive. We cleaned her injuries, and luckily, they were not even infected yet. You found her just in the right moment." You let out a breath. It felt like a huge weight fell off of your shoulders.

"Get some rest, princess Y/N. It will be good." The healer said, and helped you to get to other chambers, you guessed for guests. You laid down to bed, and fell asleep. You didn't even notice the healer turned around in the door, and slightly bowed, before he walked away.

You woke up into bright sunlight. You realized it was afternoon, and when you properly woke up, you found out you slept almost whole day and night.

When you took a bath and changed into light dress, you decided to go ask healer how was your mother doing.

You carefully knocked on the door. Someone slowly opened the door, and you realized it was the healer you already knew. After a short talk, he told you to get some rest. You decided to listen to him.

You didn't expect to fall asleep next to the bushes of lavender in Rivendell gardens, but the sweet, calming scent was strong.

You woke up with slight headache, and sat aside from the plants. You watched the sunset, and yawned. You also realized you haven't eaten whole day, and looked around for some fruit. You got up, and soon you found a few servants, who were actually looking for you, and as they mentioned dinner, you had no more questions.

At the dinner, you noticed the male healer you met earlier. You blushed when he noticed you looking at him, but he didn't do anything. Later, he catched your eyes again, and send you a tiny smile. You felt yourself smile as well.

After the dinner, Lindir walked you to your chambers. You took a bath, and when you got dressed, you opened your window and put a pillow and a blanket on the floor, to continue watching the sunset, and look at the stars. The sky was bright, and the fresh air made you feel lot better.

You got back to bed, but left the window open.

Your felt familiar smell, as you woke up. For a moment, you were five again, in your chambers in Erebor, and it was your birthday. Only other thing was the itchy feeling on your arms and legs.

Damn mosquitos.

"Mum?"

"I didn't mean to wake you, wildflower," you gasped and sat up, wide awake.

It was really her. Your mother, her red hair shining in the morning sun, looking at you.

Her face was full of cuts,which were in process of healing, and fading scars. Her hair was literally chopped off, now down to her chin.

Her green eyes were, however, full of motherly love. Just as you always knew them.

"This-this is a dream!" You let out a cry. She hug you tightly, and let out a cry too.

"I'm so glad you're safe..."

"What happened to you?" You whispered, as your arms tightened around her, afraid of it being just a dream.

"The orcs prisoned me, I tried to escape, but I was weak and didn't have any weapons. This time, I was finally lucky," she whispered, as she brushed your hair by her fingers.

"I'm here, Y/N. I promise it isn't a dream. I was fighting to run away every single day, and nothing could keep me away from you anymore."

Later that day, you sat down, to write a letter to Erebor.

Dear father,

I had to stay in Rivendell for longer, but, as you will find out - it was worth it...

Two years later

"Kili," Tauriel frowned at her husband. Kili looked at his wife with raised eyebrow.

"It's a boy, Tauriel!"

"And?"

"She's my little girl! She was born like...yesterday," Kili wiped off a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Well, our little girl is having a lovely partner. You will like him." Kili's eyes widened, and Tauriel tried not to laugh.

"You already met him? And didn't tell me?!"

"Well..." Tauriel would roll her eyes. Her husband was literally freaking out.

She didn't have the heart to tell him the reason you went to Rivendell or Mirkwood was because of your love, not because of political...anything.

Before she answered, you walked in, nervously smiling at both of them.

"I have, um...someone I want to introduce to you," you said. Your mother nodded at you with smile, and you sighed and patted your father's shoulder.

"It's fine, dad." You opened the door, and 'the elven healer from Rivendell', as you knew him two years ago, walked in.

"Mum, dad...this is, um, my boyfr-"

"Nice to meet you," Tauriel said, but looked at her husband by the corner of her eye.

"So...you are the elf my daughter is courting," Kili said, and you looked at your boyfriend. Him and your father were watching each other, and you gently took your lover's hand into yours, worried they might start fighting. Until...

They both broke a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Prince Kili. Y/N has told me a lot of good things about you."

"Y/N, would you come and prepare some tea with me?" Your mother asked you, and you both got out of the room.

You listened their conversation, talking about your meeting, and, your dad's, and your lover's, favourite - archery.

"I can't believe it!" You said, whispering.

"I know," your mother tried to hold in laugh.

"They literally-"

"Yes. Seems like they go along well."

"Now my dad will spend more time with my lover than I do," you pretend to be dramatic, but secretly you thought if it wouldn't be better if they didn't like each other.

You walked back in the room, with cups with steaming tea.

"Don't worry. Both of them know who are the best archers in the family," Your mother gave you a smile, and you proudly nodded, as you placed the cups down on table.

"That's not true, I always let you win!" They said at the same time, and you and your mother shared a look.

Later that day, you were with your father in the gardens. He was enjoying the quiet evening, and you were reading.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"You know...you said, about boys...that nobody would be good enough for me. In your eyes."

"Yeah." He nodded, and turned towards you.

"So, um...what do you think, now when you met my boyfriend?" You nervously waited for his answer.

"I think...I would never expect to say this, but...I approve him." You let out a laugh.

"Just because you're both good at archery?" He rolled his eyes.

"I wanted to say he seems to be very nice, but that too. We gotta keep the skill in family, don't we?" You shook your head and snorted with laugh.

"As well as recognizing elf men and elf maids." You started laughing when you noticed your father's wide eyes and flushed cheeks under his beard.

"Who told you that story?"

"Well...Uncle Fili has told me many interesting stories from your adventures," you said. Your father quickly stood up.

"Uncle Fili will quickly be reminded of what does it feels like to have younger brother," Your father muttered, as he walked inside the castle.

#kili #kili x reader #tauriel x reader x kili #tauriel x reader #tauriel #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #fluff #angst #request #requested #aidan turner #aidan turner x reader #fili x reader #kiliel

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stayevildarling · 3 years

Text

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right - Pt 1

Part 2, Part 3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: This story is kind of an AU. Reader meets Venable when Wilhemina is light Mina (orange hair, adorable, cute, friendly) and they get together. One day Wilhemina breaks it off suddenly and they only reunite years later but Reader is met with a much darker version (dark Mina).

Also, this used to be on my Wattpad but I decided to completely rewrite it and add multiple parts

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @rainbow-hedgehog, @mrsdeanhoward, @alexajbitar, @in-cordelias-coven, @kenzbro, @loverofallthingssarah, @twistedpoeticjustice, @billiebeanhoward, @minaslittleone, @lilypadscoven, @vintagepaulson, @ninaahs, @whitelotus00, @httpfiftyshadesofgay

-Flashback-

''Are you serious right now after all we have been through?'' you try hard not to scream but it feels like your body is on fire, your lungs are burning, heart racing and your eyes watering. You cannot believe you are having this conversation with your girlfriend Wilhemina right now. After a whole year of knowing each other and eventually giving the relationship a go she is talking about moving on.

'It's for the best'' is all she said in return and then she walked out, cane in her hand hitting the floor hard and not once did she look back, she ignored your cries, you begging her to stay and please turn back around. You keep repeating this is a nightmare and you are gonna wake up any minute to her holding you in her arms. But it was no nightmare and she did walk out of your shared apartment and ever since that day you have tried to move on. But no matter what you did working, moving out of the apartment, meeting friends, getting to know new people it didn't work, Wilhemina was always on your mind, when you are asleep she would visit in your dreams, when you are driving or outside and a song plays, she is there in your memory as if she never left in the first place.

-End of Flashback-

Even right now as you are walking through the streets on your lunch break, coffee in your hand and earphones in your ears listening to music she is here again.

''I never needed you like I do right now....I never hated you like I do right now'' as you hear those lyrics your heart skips a beat and it feels like it is breaking all over again. You tried everything you could think of, start a new job in a new field, you moved to a new city but nothing seems to be able to take your mind off the redhead, clouding your mind, her touch still so present lingering on your skin, her voice still ringing through your ears and the smell of lavender following you wherever you go.

Currently, you are working for a company in California, in the social media department and to promote the brand and their work. It's mostly boring but you do enjoy social media and advertisement so you gladly took the job considering it comes with a higher paycheck and a brand new apartment. There was nothing left in your old city, no friends anymore because you drove them all away as they always talked badly about your ex-girlfriend and the feelings you still have for her. No family because you were kind of always on your own and after quitting your job there, there was nothing holding you back. The woman with red-orange hair and a purple obsession is currently on your mind again and no matter what you do she is stuck in your head, like a catchy record and it hurts. As you think about her a wave of flashbacks hit you, with no way of putting a stop to it and keeping the storm at bay.

''Wilhemina Venable, nice to meet you'' was the first few words that you ever heard her say and for a moment you were so struck that you couldn't even say anything. ''Cat got your tongue hmm?'' was what she said afterward and what got you to snap out of it, introduce yourself, and shake her hand. And when you touched her for the first time you knew you would never ever get tired of feeling her soft hands.

You would also never grow tired of looking into her beautiful brown eyes or the soft smile she would give you whenever she would see you. Back then you just finished college and you took your first job and she was your co-worker. Starting a relationship with a co-worker is sometimes frowned upon and there probably are good reasons for that but you didn't listen, not to your friends telling you not to do it and not to the other co-workers after they noticed the glances you and Wilhemina exchanged at work. But you both never let that stop you and you fell for her and you fell hard.

Although you had some crushes before, mostly on teachers in college or celebrities, you never had been in a relationship before. Every morning before work you would get up so early and make sure to put your best clothes on, you would improve your makeup skills and try different hairstyles to impress Wilhemina and you did. She would notice how often you would come around to her desk and ask her silly questions you both knew the answers to but you pretend you didn't. And eventually, she took all of her confidence and asked you out and that night was the most magical night of your life.

You went to an expensive restaurant and after she took you home and she gave you something that night that was precious and you held onto it till today. Patience. She was your first love and she made sure to not rush, to not hurt you, to be there for you and hold you whenever you needed her. After your first date, you went on some more magical nights together, before you were ready to allow her to love you and to love her in return and she made you feel things you never felt before. She would make your whole body feel beautiful and worthy, all your insecurities left whenever you were around the woman who had many insecurities herself due to her back. And that's probably what you admire most about her, the way she made you feel whenever you were with her.

Thinking about all this, you think back to the many dates you both went on, to restaurants, shopping, the movies, car dates, attending work parties together, going to get drunk together. Life felt so easy with Wilhemina around, although she was a few years older than you she was pure, she was funny, soft, kind, precious and she was innocent. She would always treat people with respect and offer help and you loved her beautiful and kind personality. You never thought that one night after being with each other for almost a year she would randomly walk out of your life and not once turn back around or try and talk about it.

Hearing the lyrics repeat, you sigh and shake your head because it is true, one part of you needed Wilhemina back in your life because no matter what you do you can not get her out of your head or heart for that matter. Part of you does hate her for leaving and walking out, you never cried harder in your life than the night she left and you couldn't function for days. All you did was cry, toss and turn in the bed or curl up on the floor in a little ball until you couldn't cry anymore but the pain never stopped. It took days and in the end, your friends who picked you up again, taught you how to take care of yourself again by eating, showering, getting dressed, and going to work and you hoped that moving and changing jobs would change something.

As you are sitting in a park, only a few blocks away from your new workplace, watching people having picnics, playing with their kids, walking their dogs, or doing exercise you realize that all this wasn't worth it. Moving away, leaving your job, apartment and friends did nothing, you still miss her and she still haunts you. You miss her gentle side, the soft Mina as you used to call her, who would hold you in her arms, who would say soothing words until you would fall asleep, and who would make you feel better after a hard day at work, hold you after a nightmare or would let you ramble about another one of the co-workers annoying you. You miss telling her about your days and how you feel because you could be free with her and be who you are and you haven't been that way in a very long time.

Checking your phone you notice your lunch break is over in five minutes so you toss your empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walk back to your office. Today has been particularly boring because all you have to do is answer people's dm's and requests on social media because currently there is no campaign going on. As you walk back to your desk you put your coat and bag away and start logging onto your laptop. That's when you hear your boss on his way to your desk and you can't help but internally roll your eyes. He isn't a bad guy or anything, he is in his fifties, grey hair, always wearing a suit and he treats you with respect and you appreciate him but whenever he would approach you it means a problem, like an advertisement going wrong or a complaint or a new major client and that means longer hours and staying in the office till midnight. Not that you mind considering there is nothing or no one to come back home to.

''Y/N'' he says as he finally reaches your desk. Looking up from your desk, you force a smile and reply ''Yes Mr. Odell what can I do for you?''. By his posture, you can tell he is in some kind of distress.

''Listen we have a potential new client and I want you to come to our first meeting with them'' he says excitedly and you question why he can't just bring his assistant. ''I can't bring Janet she is sick so I need you to get your things'' he explains and you log off your computer, take your coat and bag and follow him outside the building. It is quite chilly, so you are glad that you put a jacket over your blazer.

As the familiar buildings and streets fade into the distance, you try not to zone out like you usually would but these days your mind would often be preoccupied with daydreams or memories as if someone else was entirely in control of your thoughts.

''I have a meeting with a Mr. Pfister and Mr. Nutter'' he says absent-mindedly while looking into his calendar and talking about the company you are headed to. Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod and mumble ''Of course Mr. Odell'' before averting your gaze back to the window looking at the hectic city and people going on about their days. Your thoughts wander back to work and you try to think of a few possibilities to advertise their products, as that might not be as easy as you originally thought when agreeing on accompanying your boss.

The first thing you see as you walk into a large unfamiliar building, following your boss's steps, is a front desk with some employees sitting there, it seems that this building is home to a few companies and different departments as they guide people into different parts of the building. You watch as your boss approaches the front desk, ''Hello may I help you?'' a woman with blonde hair asks politely.

''Yes I have a meeting with Kineros Robotics'' he says and she looks at you, then him again, and points towards a sign. ''It's to your right just follow the signs'' she says and you notice how her facial expression changed from nice and friendly to cold and possibly scared? after your boss mentioned the company name. Reading people's expressions and understanding their underlying feelings, has always been something you are good at but you quickly shake the thought away and follow your boss.

As you walk down the corridor you see a young woman with long brown curled hair wearing a blouse with flower prints and a skirt run down the hall with a box in her hand, her heels echoing through the building. ''I'm sorry'' she mumbles hectic and nervous as she zooms past you and you give Mr. Odell a questioning expression before reaching the department.

''I'm so sorry there was a bad accident on the 101'' you hear the woman say and then you hear a sound that sounds both so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The cane tapping. For a moment you freeze, knowing this isn't just any cane tap as you are so used to a certain redhead woman expressing her emotions partly through the very device that helps her keep her balance. Despite not having heard the sound in over a year, you know exactly who must be on the other end of the hallway.

Temporarily you freeze, thinking maybe her leaving you and breaking things off with you, has ultimately clouded your senses and affected your brain and maybe you are imagining everything. After all the rational part of yourself, is trying to remind you that there is no explanation right now as to why she would be here of all places.

However, the next thing you hear is a clear confirmation that your brain is not tricking you, it's not your mind so clouded by her absence, she is here, the only thing keeping you from seeing each other is a wall and a few steps apart. As you hear a familiar voice your heart stops beating and your throat goes dry.

''Not as bad as the accident that brought you into the world'' that is all you heard and although her voice sounds more cold, harsh and raspy you are fully aware that Wilhemina is sitting at the end of that corridor. For a moment your body goes into a state of shock, your ears ringing, vision blurring, and your heart beating out of your chest.

Shortly after the girl what you assume now to be an assistant comes running back towards the corridor with tears in her eyes and her heels making the same clicking sound. She zooms past you and Mr. Odell again and all he says is ''Damn she seems feisty'' and you know it's aimed at Wilhemina and for a moment you debate whether to just turn around and pretend to be sick or needing to answer a phone call but you know you can't back out now, after all, you have missed seeing her for too long now.

All you wanna do is see her adorable orange hair, that you used to run your fingers through and untangle some knots after she had a long day, the dorky glasses that you sometimes made fun of, and beautiful pastel purple probably everywhere if this truly was her workplace after all. ''Come on'' your boss says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again and you walk into the large room.

Eyes instantly wander to the source of purple in the room and the source of darkness in your heart and emptiness ever since she left but not only does your heart stop for a moment as you take a look at her, you blink a few times, now actually sure whether this is real or some kind of nightmare.

Wilhemina's hair is a much darker shape of red now and styled into a tall sharp quiff, no sign of her usual high ponytails anymore or the lighter and orange shape it used to be. You notice she doesn't wear glasses anymore and you are convinced her eyes look an even darker shape than before too. She is wearing a dress and it's also a very dark shade of purple with matching earrings. Even her makeup is darker, and as you see her sitting by her desk you can't deny how intimidating she seems, looking at some files, her cane resting on the desk right beside her. Even the cane is different now, it has a snake shape at the top and it's not the old plain one she used to have.

For a moment you believe you just walked right into your own personal nightmare, the funny, sometimes sassy, and beautiful girl you used to love now seems like a completely different and somewhat evil person. The Wilhemina you once loved and still have feelings for, as they never truly changed, seems gone and it seems like she was replaced by a new one, a colder version.

She would have never spoken to anyone like that or treated someone the way she just treated that girl that seems to be her assistant, by the looks of it. All the staring and observing Wilhemina happened in a matter of seconds although it feels like an eternity, everything is silent for a moment, all that is to be heard is your own heartbeat and the typing on Wilhemina's keyboard.

You watch as your boss approaches her and you follow him and finally, Wilhemina looks up noticing the presence of someone else in the room and her gaze is focused on him, so she hasn't seen you yet. He tries to shake her hand and says ''My name is Mr. Odell I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister'' and she just looks at him and his hand with a slightly disgusted expression but she doesn't bother shaking his hand.

''Very well'' she says and takes a glance at you for a split second, noticing a second person in the room and her eyes wander back to her laptop thinking you are just some assistant but when she realizes who you are she immediately looks back over to you and she doesn't avert her gaze at first.

Wilhemina takes in your features for a moment, the sense of fashion, dressing smartly and formally but at the same time stunning as she always said, your hair, the improved makeup skills, and still the same details she always loved about you. She doesn't look into your eyes yet and you are interrupted when two men walk over.

One of them has brown hair and the other blonde hair and you try hard not to chuckle when you see them because they look hideous. ''Mr. Odell, nice to meet you'' they say and shake hands. ''This is Y/L/N maybe someone could show her around while we finalize the details?'' your boss suggests, taking you by surprise, and one of the two turns to Wilhemina and says ''Miss Venable would you give this beautiful lady a tour please''.

For a split second, you are convinced, she is about to kill him but you aren't sure if it's about the tour or compliment. ''Of course'' she mumbles and your boss and the two men leave and you are left there with your ex-girlfriend and awkward silence filling the room. You haven't looked up or into her eyes yet and it terrifies you, she terrifies you.

Wilhemina has no idea what to do or how to react after not seeing you for two years and the last time she did she walked out of your life and your relationship. The redhead looks at you and without looking into your eyes yet she knows the pain, she can see it and she can tell this is killing you inside, the last thing she ever wanted was to cause you pain.

You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and turn to Wilhemina and your eyes instantly lock and you look into her dark brown eyes and not leave her gaze for one moment. She takes a few slow steps towards you, her cane hitting the floor, and with every tap and echo in the room, it feels like your heart is ripped into more pieces and your past is here confronting you right at this moment.

''Mina'' is everything you can say but it comes out as a whisper while your voice cracks. Your ex-girlfriend's eyes close right away because she has missed hearing you call her that for the past two years but as she opens her eyes she reminds herself internally, who she is and that she is currently at her workplace.

''Follow me'' she instructs and you follow her while she walks down a corridor and into a room with big machines. While you follow her you can't understand what would have happened to her to turn into this cold-hearted person. She used to be the sweetest and kindest person you knew but clearly, something has changed. You cannot take your eyes off her and as she walks you into the room with machines, she explains about the work they do here and how they do it and as much as you try to focus and look at the things she shows you, you can't and Wilhemina notices.

''Do I bore you?'' she suddenly snaps in that cold voice again, her nostrils flaring and your heart feels like a knife was just thrown right into it. ''I'm sorr- sorry I-'' but you can't even think of a good enough excuse so you just look at the floor and try hard to keep your emotions at bay.

''Anyways, these are the machines and devices we use, whenever someone places a custom order we make sure to fulfill that order as efficient and quick as possible'' Wilhemina explains her voice still stern, sounding like she has given this tour so many times, she has memorized every single word.

However, you do notice her looking at you the entire time she explains and it seems like she wants you to say something but there are too many things that you want and wanted to say to her for years but you never imagined one day you would run into her like this. For several minutes the two of you stand in the rooms with machines, Wilhemina explaining and you trying hard to focus on her words intently.

''Y/N'' you hear the voice of your boss coming from the door, the two strange-looking men behind him, and you look at him, noticing the satisfied looks on their faces, indicating the deal worked well, and he says ''I'm finished, thank you, Miss, for giving her the tour'' he adds now focused on Wilhemina. ''Let's go'' he says and you walk in his direction without looking back at her and just as you are about to walk out of the door you look at her and say ''Thank you'' and then you walk out.

As you walk out of the large office building, back through the same long corridor, and past the front desk, you can't hear anything your boss is trying to say and the entire car ride back to the office you try and wrap your head around what just happened, abandoning every single word Mr. Odell is saying.

''This didn't happen wake up Y/N wake-up Y/N'' you keep repeating in your head but it's no use this is no nightmare this is reality.

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

Always Be Here | Fred x Reader

Requested by @pxroxide-prinxcesss: The war is over and the dust has settled. Many were dead and your mind cannot help but go to dark places; you may have lost Fred. But when you see him after the war, he is just as thrilled to see you alive as you are to see him.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content (soft smut), language, mention of death, blood

Word Count: 2.7k

It was over. The Dark Lord was dead. The good had prevailed through the darkness that contaminated your world for four years. You could finally breathe without the fear of your last breath being taken from you by a Death Eater. It was all over.

But with the victory came losses. People fought valiantly for the good and died heroes. Classmates, professors, parents, siblings all fought the good fight and did so with courage and bravery. But you couldn’t help but have tears well up in your eyes when you looked around and saw so much death. People carrying bodies out of sight, running others to the infirmary to prevent them from the inevitable, loved ones crying over bodies of the recently deceased.

As you looked around, anxiety and fear rose in your throat and your chest became tight. Your mind immediately went to a horrific dark place and you thought of Fred. Where was he? Was he alive?

You ran into friends and classmates, relieved to see them alive, hugging them as you encountered them. Sharing an embrace and tears streaming down your face to see them, you would prematurely pull away and ask, “Have you seen Fred?” Nervous for you, they would shake their heads no as your heart sank further and further into your stomach. A pit grew in your stomach and you grew increasingly impatient. Where was your boy? He had to be alive. He just had to be.

Running around the castle, you make your way around rubble and fallen stones, desperate to find your Weasley. Where could he be? You felt nauseous, your head fuzzy, vision blurry from the impending tears that threatened to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks. “Fred?” you call out, now in sheer hope that he would call back out for you. No response. Your breathing becomes more rapid with the rise and fall of your chest as you dart around the castle grounds. “Fred!” Nothing.

Your eyes scan your surroundings before catching the eyes of another Weasley, but not your Fred. “(Y/N)!” Ron yells out a smile on his face to see you alive, dried blood all over his face. You exhale a small sigh of relief when you see Ron as you run towards him to embrace him. “Thank Merlin, you’re alive.”

As you squeeze Ron tight, you start to cry a little harder, hoping that he would have the answer to the question that plagued your mind. “Ron,” you pull away from him. “Where’s Fred?”

Ron smiles and that’s when you let go of the breath you were holding. He was alive. “Come on,” Ron grabs your hand as he zig zags through the castle to bring you to where you assumed Fred was.

Pulling you into what once was the Great Hall, Ron stops in his tracks and looks at your face as you scan the room. And that’s when you see him. He’s sat next to George, head in his hands, leg shaking nervously, probably thinking the same thing that you thought about him moments ago. He’s pulling on his ginger hair in distress, but George stops him by pushing his shoulder and pointing in your direction.

Fred looks up and meets your gaze. As he does so, you let a happy sob escape your lips as you cover your mouth to stifle it. Fred’s face immediately relaxes and you see him mouth, “Thank bloody Merlin.”

Without hesitation, you start running to him and he rises to his feet to meet you halfway. Your feet couldn’t carry you faster to your love as you wrap your arms around his neck, him wrapping his arms around your waist, picking you up instantly. You wrap your legs around his long torso and burry your face in his neck as he holds you. Sobbing into his neck, you manage to speak through sobs, “Freddie, I thought I lost you.”

Fred strokes your hair to soothe you, like he always did when you were upset. His other arm holds you up with barely any effort, squeezing you impossibly closer to him. There was no way he was letting you go. “I told you I was going to see you at the end of this,” Fred calmly speaks, but tears are also streaming down his cheeks as he thanks Merlin that you were alive at the end of the brutality of this war. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

You stay in his arms for a little while longer, not caring who watched you or how long you were there for. Your love was alive and okay and that’s all that mattered. You two came out of this alive. Fred gently puts you down, but still keeps his hands on you, hands resting on your waist tightly. The two of you look at the other’s face as if it were the first time seeing it. His eyes were intensely looking into yours with so much love, you couldn’t help but want to cry again. Your heart swelled with how much love you had for this boy. Pulling your attention away from his face, you notice the large gash he has on his forehead, fresh blood still trickling down the side of his forehead. “Freddie, you’re bleeding,” you cup his cheek and gently touch his forehead.

“Me and the rest of the people here, darling,” he rolls his eyes as you shake your head. Of course, he would joke about this right now. “I’m fine, I promise. All I care about is that you’re here and you’re okay.”

The two of you make your way to the rest of the Weasley family as you embrace George tightly. “Glad you’re alright, (Y/N). If you weren’t, I don’t know what Fred would have done,” George confesses as you decide not to think about if one of you had not made it.

But now was not a time to think of the pain. You were grateful to be alive and even more thankful that Fred was next to you, holding your hand, kissing your forehead at the end of it. You were alive.

---------

That night, you found yourself in the comfort of the Burrow in Fred’s old bedroom. There was no way you were spending the night apart after today. Fred needed you by his side at all times, too scared to let you go. You had to insist that he took a shower without you much to his dismay for multiple reasons.

It had been a while since you were in this room after Fred and George moved out of the Burrow and into their own flat above the joke shop. But the Burrow was always home. It’s where you and Freddie had your first kiss, where he asked you to be his girlfriend, where you two had slept with each other for the first time. The Burrow had become not only home to your boyfriend, but to you as well.

Interrupting your thoughts, Fred emerges from the bathroom and into his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he shut the door behind him. Fred looks at you and a warm smile appears on his face. “Hello, gorgeous,” he beams.

“Hi, Freddie,” you smile back as he sits on the bed beside you before you place a sweet his to his lips. You push his wet ginger hair out of his face, combing it back with your fingers. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before you break the quiet. “I can’t believe it’s over. It’s really done with, huh?”

Fred lets out a light laugh, “Yeah. I just can’t believe how much destruction there was. Hogwarts is in shreds. It’s crazy to see somewhere you called home look like that.” You nod your head. Even though the two of you had graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago, your memories of being a student were vivid as ever. Especially the ones you made with your friends and Fred. “It’s where we fell in love,” Fred adds, making you blush. He smiles and kisses your rosy cheeks. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

You stroke Fred’s cheek gently and lightly smile at the beautiful boy in front of you. He leans into your touch and lets out a small sigh, the two of you looking at the other lovingly. “You’re the love of my life, Fred. There’s no one out there for me but you,” you admit to him. Fred knew that you loved him more than words could say, but every time you confessed it to him, it gave him butterflies.

He kisses the palm of your hand before pulling you onto his lap, you straddling him as the thin fabric of the towel covers his lower half. “And you are the love of my life, (Y/N). I will never love anyone like I love you. And I will say that until my last breathe. I love you,” Fred tells you, squeezing your hips as your heart swells with so much love. You were the only people in the world right now. You don’t know what to say to him. But that wasn’t a problem because Fred had something to say. “Marry me.”

His words make your heart stop for a moment and your eyes widen in shock. It takes you a moment to process his words. Your mouth is agape as you search for words. “What?” you manage to speak. That’s all you can say. What was happening?

“I know, it’s crazy, and I wanted to wait until we returned to some sense of normalcy before I asked you, but it felt right,” Fred admit. “I don’t have a ring, but I’ll get you whatever ring you like. I don’t care, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, (Y/N). The war made me realize that I don’t know what I would do without you if I lost you. You are everything to me and I want to be with you forever,” he rambles. “Marry me.”

The proposition was crazy, but you were crazier for Fred. This was the easiest question you were ever asked. “Yes. Done. Yes, Fred. Of course. Yes,” you excitedly answer, gripping onto his shoulders as you beam, laughing like a child as Fred joins you. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fred repeats before pressing his lips onto yours for a sweet kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you in closer by your hips. The kiss turns more passionate as you open your mouth gently, letting Fred’s tongue enter your mouth, swirling around it as you tangle your fingers in his still wet hair. Fred lightly moans into your mouth as you rub your hips against his. “I love you,” he speaks again before kissing down your neck as you tilt your head, giving him more access to your exposed flesh.

Fred pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your bare top, sitting on his lap now with just panties on. His eyes rake up and down your body before kissing across your chest and onto your full breasts. He takes one of your breasts in his large hand, massaging it as he takes the nipple of the other in his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive area. You tangle your fingers in his hair deeper, pulling at his roots as you moan, rolling your head backwards. “Fuck, Freddie,” you moan out, continuing to roll your hips against his towel covered pelvis.

Before you can say anything else, Fred has you underneath him as he tosses his towel to the floor. His erection hits his stomach, hard for you already. Fred kisses you again deeply, tongue sloppily massaging yours before pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make love to you,” he whispers in your ear as you gulp. His words make your heat even more wet. You nod your head up and down. He huskily chuckles before placing a kiss to your jawline.

He kisses down your neck as you reach out and start stroking his hard cock. Fred groans at the sensation of your hand wrapped around his dick, resisting the urge to thrust himself into your wet pussy. You stroke his cock, slowly, up and down, in a circular motion, making Fred let out a low groan into your neck. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes as you continue to pump his member.

You start to pick up the speed, but Fred stops you. “I wanna come inside of you,” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom as he rolls it onto his hard length.

He lines himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing himself into your dripping wet heat. You moan out in satisfaction, arching your back gently. Fred always filled you up delightfully. The sight of you writhing in pleasure was enough to get Fred off. “Oh, Fred,” you breathe out. “Move, baby.”

Fred obeys and starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. Each thrust is gentle, but feels euphoric. Fred laces his fingers with yours as he pushes in and out of you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love you,” he tells you between breaths.

His other hand snakes down your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing slow figure eights on it as your eyes screw shut. Fred knew exactly how you liked it and he lived to make you feel good. “Shit, baby, just like that, don’t stop,” you moan out as Fred continues to pump in and out of you and rub your clit. “Faster, please, Fred, fuck, please.”

Fred starts to thrust faster, his hips colliding into yours with each thrust, filling you up with his cock deliciously. Fred lets out low moans as he fucks you, pressing kisses to your jawline with each thrust. “Say my name,” he whispers in your ear.

“Fred, baby, yes,” you moan out, letting his name fall out of your mouth. He moans at the sound of his name falling out of your pretty little mouth. “Fred, you make me feel so good. I love you so much, baby. I love you.”

It’s music to Fred’s ears as he takes you like this, making you grip the sheets in pleasure. You arch your back up and Fred takes this opportunity to suck hard on one of your nipples, still drawing lazy circles on your clit, dick rocking in and out of you. You are overstimulated with pleasure, eyes rolling back, toes curled up. “Look at me, baby, look at me,” he pleads. “I wanna watch you come.”

You peel your eyes open and look into Fred’s eyes as he fucks you like this. Small moans escape your mouth with each thrust and Fred lets out a deep groan as he watches your eyebrows furrow in absolute pleasure, mouth agape as he makes love to you on his bed. “I’m gonna come, baby, fuck,” you tell him.

“Come for me,” he speaks. “Come all over me, princess. Moan my name, go on,” he growls.

With that, you release all over his dick, rolling your head back as you moan, “Oh, Freddie, fuck.” Fred continues to thrust in and out of you before releasing into his condom moments after you, pleasure shuddering through his body as you watch him release, screwing his eyes shut and nuzzling his face into your neck as he comes.

The two of you are breathless, chests heavy rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. Fred pulls out of you and rolls beside you, tossing the condom away. He wastes no time pulling you into his chest, cuddling you close next to him, kissing your forehead as you snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you, darling. I love you so much,” he tells you. “I promise I’m gonna make you the happiest woman in the world. I swear on my life.”

You smile into his chest before looking up at the man you love. “I love you much more. I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” you confess as he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re my forever.”

#Fred and George #fred weasley #fred #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred imagine #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #HP

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

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