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trashbag-baby666 · 1 year

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Heart Of Glass-Rooster Bradshaw

Chapter Seventeen

WC: 1,824

C/W: smut and mentions of canonical character death.

Link to the HOG Masterlist!

"Are we really gonna do it this way?" Mazy laughed as Bradley stood at the passengers side of the door.

"Yeah, we're gonna do it this way." Bradley smirked and picked up Mazy carrying her inside.

"This is so cheesy," Mazy threw her head back laughing as Bradley carried her to the bedroom bridal style.

"I must be the champ at cheesy then," Bradley laid her down on the bed as he started to remove his suit jacket.

"Shut up," Mazy smiled as she started to pull the clips out of her hair. Bradley began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ay no come here babes." Mazy sat up on her knees and pulled Bradley over to her. Mazy blushed as she began unbuttoning his shirt. Bradley shrugged off the shirt, Mazy ran her hand down his bare chest, "You're so handsome."

"And you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Bradley reached back and began undoing the corset on Mazy's dress.

"Tonight was everything I've ever dreamed of...both of our friends and chosen family." Mazy kissed Bradleys cheek.

"I couldn't imagine it any other way." Bradley finished getting the corset undone. Mazy climbed off the bed and removed her dress folding it over the arm chair in the corner. Bradley smiled watching her in her white lace strapless bra and her white panties.

"Can we?" Mazy began as she walked over to Bradley taking ahold of Bradleys belt.

"Can we why'll you're pregnant?" Bradley raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Mazy chuckled, "It's perfectly safe."

"Then of course." Bradley picked her up, Mazy wrapped her legs around his waist. Mazy brought her lips up to Bradleys as he set her down on the dresser.

Bradley kept his lips locked with hers as he hooked his thumbs on the waist of her panties sliding them down.

"You're hungry," Mazy teased as he tossed her panties to the side.

"I had to watch you all night dancing and talking. Right after vows, I could've just fucked you right there on the beach." Bradley groaned as Mazy b lined for his belt undoing the silver buckle and sliding it off.

"You're disgusting. We could've had a quickie in the bathroom during the reception." She giggled undoing the button on Bradley's slacks. Bradley pulled his pants down kicking them off and tugging his boxers down, "Oh look at you, Bradley."

"Don't be a tease," Bradley blushed thinking about having Mazy pressed up against the wall of the Hard Decks single stall bathrooms. Her dress hiked up one leg wrapped around his the other keeping her steady as Bradley fucked her into the wall.

"Well you have me right here," Mazy ran a hand down the fighter jet tattoo above his left peck and onto his chest.

Bradley unhooked her bra and tossed it as he picked her back up taking no time to slide her onto him.

"Oh my god," Mazy let out a loud desperate moan as he held her close. Bradley laid her on the edge of the bed and began pumping himself.

"Oh baby girl," Bradley whined his eyes clenched shut as he let his head fall back.

Mazy gripped the grey bedding as he drilled into her.

"Feels like the first time with you every time." Mazy ran a hand through her brown hair. Bradley leaned down and kissed her sloppily. Mazy was already putty in his hands as soon as he undressed her.

Bradley could feel himself edging already as he had her spread out her legs still around his waist. Mazy leaning further into the bed.

He was looking at the Mazy Mitchell he had known since childhood. The Mazy Mitchell he would do body shots of every time he got a little too drunk. The Mazy Mitchell he kept Polaroids of his cum seeping out of her in his pocket during deployments and missions.

Just the thought of her made him ready to unload.

"Fucking A Bradley," Mazy arched her back as she orgasmed. Bradley held her hips as he let out a moan as he pumped hard once more before exploding inside her.

He fell onto the bed next to her, both of them panting. "You're so gorgeous," Mazy rolled onto him giving him a sloppy kiss. Bradley scooted up the bed leaning against the head board. He could probably go for one last round.

Mazy crawled up after him, "Can you go again Bradley?"

"Yeah," he let out a sigh as he pulled her in for a kiss. As she straggled straddled him sinking into him.

Bradley let out a moan into her mouth as Mazy began riding him. He moved his kisses down to her jawline and collar bone.

He'd always played a game with himself of how revealing of hickeys he could give Mazy without getting them in uniform trouble.

Mazy hooked her arms under his digging her nails into his back as he squeezed her hips. He began sucking on her collar bone.

"Fuck!" Mazy moaned out as he began sucking like some horny juice starved vampire. Mazy bobbed up and down on Bradley as both roared in pure pleasure. Mazy let out grunts as Bradley began meeting her hips.

Bradley sucked various hickeys into her collar home and down her chest.

"Oh god, fuck. Mazy you're so good." Bradley ducked his head between her boobs.

"Fuck," Mazy whined as Bradley slowed his thrusts as he sucked hickeys onto her boobs.

Mazy let her nails dig into his, Bradley exploded into Mazy letting the sweet love over take the two. Mazy laid into Bradley as she met his orgasm both riding out the after shock.

Both of them heaved trying to catch their breath. Bradley laid down Mazy snuggling into him.

"You're so good to me," Mazy laid a hand on his cheek and rubbed circles gently. Admiring every scar and mole and thing about him.

"Thank you for everything beautiful." Bradley held her around her waist, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Bradley gave everything he had into sex but it was important to him to always give her the best after care.

"I'm so tired," Mazy giggled closing her eyes.

"Yeah but you know, pee after sex, get you cleaned up." Bradley chuckled picking her up gently bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom attached.

Bradley turned on the shower light so it wasn't too bright in the bathroom and set her down.

Running some hot water under the sink faucet.

"I love you so much." Bradley hummed wetting a wash cloth.

"I love you more." Mazy yawned taking it from him.

Mazy took the tea kettle of hot water off the stove and poured herself a cup. It had officially been a week and they had their own stay at home honey moon. They'd decided maybe later on they'd take a real vacation after the baby was born.

Mazy grabbed a mint tea bag and set it in the hot water and came into the living room.

"Did you bring them dad?" Mazy sat herself between Bradley and Mav.

"Yeah," Mav opened up his backpack and pulled out two photo albums. Mazy took a sip of her tea and set it on a coaster on the coffee table.

"What are these?" Bradley looked as Mav set the photo albums down on the table.

"Have you not seen these before?" Mav furrowed his eyebrows.

"Not these specific pictures," Bradley opened up one album an assortment of pictures of Goose and Carols wedding.

"I haven't seen these at all actually," Mazy took the scrap book and held it in her lap as they flipped through the pages. Carol had a huge veil, probably a thing of the 80's. They were married in 1981. Around the time they'd conceived Bradley.

Goose looked just like Bradley just a little bit more...80's?

But Bradley was a spitting image of Goose.

There was a picture of them standing behind a three layered cake. Goose in his Navy whites, Carole in a stunning big white dress. Goose smiled as he had his arms wrapped around Caroles waist.

"You look just like him Bradley," Mazy giggled pointing down at a picture of Goose and Maverick singing at the wedding.

"It's the mustache," Bradley chuckled.

"Carole hated when we sang," Mav chuckled, "But me and Goose singing to your mom is how I picked her up."

"Ew," Mazy elbowed Mav in the side.

"We pretended to hook up in the bathroom. Turns out she was one of our Top Gun instructors." Mav laughed, "It was embarrassing."

"Pretend too hook up?" Bradley raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know it was a bet me and your dad made," Mav nodded. He flipped the page of the photo album and there was a picture of Mav and Charlie. They stood outside of the court house holding a paper.

"You and mom were married? You never told me!" Mazy looked closer at the picture.

"We got married just at the courthouse a week after we found out she was pregnant with you. We didn't think that a piece of paper really could define our love. But being married makes having a kid easier when it comes to legal things. So we just did it at the courthouse, nothing special really." Mav shrugged, "It was a little impulsive at the time. I'm happy we did it though."

"I wish I would've known her," Mazy sighed. Mazy regretted a lot of things in life and although it wasn't her fault. She wished her mother wouldn't have died when she was so young. She wasn't old enough to remember anything, all of her memories of her mother were just stories her father told her.

"In a sense you do Mazy, she's just as much a part of you as I am. She loved you so much Mazy." Mav sighed rubbing his daughters back. Mazy sniffed and rubbed her eyes, she couldn't tell if it was her pregnancy emotions acting up. Bradley wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"Sorry I think it's just my pregnancy hormones," Mazy chuckled and wiped her tears away.

"Mazy, darling you can express and have feelings about this." Bradley assured her pulling her closer to him.

"I know it's just kind of hard sometimes." Mazy nodded.

"I completely understand how you feel I get the same way," Bradley held her close, "I sometimes get this feeling that what happened to my dad was my fault."

Mazy nodded, "I feel like that a lot too."

Mav felt guilty being here for this conversation. He shouldn't have but he sometimes has a sense of survivors guilt. As Mazy got older and started to resent him he wished he had been the one to die and not Charlie. He wished there was more he could have done for Bradley when Carole had gotten sick.

He couldn't doing anything then but he certainly could now.

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x wife!reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell

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witchesoz · 1 year

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What we know of Oz: Book 5, An Emerald City party

Let’s continue now that we arrived in the Emerald City.

# As it turns out the Lion and Tiger were also sent by Ozma to help our weary travelers reach the city faster: they pull with ropes around their body a splendid golden chariot (the cords are also golden), with a body decorated on the outside with designs in clusters of sparkling emeralds, while the inside is lined with green and gold satin, with seat cushions of green plush embroidered in gold with a crown over an Oz monogram. This chariot is none other than Ozma’s personal royal chariot. And there is a brief callback of Dorothy actually belonging to the Ozite nobility since Ozma made her a Princess.

# We get a new description of the wonders and beauties of the Emerald City, described with graceful and handsome buildings covered in plate of golds and set with emeralds ; with sidewalks of superb marble slabs polished as smooth as glass, and curbs separating the walks from the broad streets set thick with clustered emeralds. [Every time the city gets described, it seems to get a bit wealthier, as we started out with the plain white city, then a regular city with lots of emeralds, and now a city made entirely of the most precious materials]. The citizens of the City itself are also described as all wearing “handsome garnments of silk or satin or velvet with beautiful jewels, all happy and smiling, all free from care, with music and laughter everywhere. (Comparing this sight to the one of the farmer in their little farms by the side of the road… Yeah, sure Nick, there’s “no poor and no rich” in Oz, sure…)

# In fact we get again a new comment about the society of Oz by Nick Chopper, who explains that unlike the appearances, the citizens of the Emerald City do work, because after all a city needs to be kept and fruit and vegetables need to be provided – but no one in the city works “more than half his time”, and the people of Oz in general are said to “enjoy their labors as much as they do their play”. People have commented that Oz seemed a lot like a socialist utopia – if not downright a communist utopia at times. And it is true that you have this very bizarre mix of communist ideals (a society where the common people is happy and has decent live conditions, while everyone works and everyone shares and the community provides for each other) and monarchic structures (there’s a nobility and hereditary rulers, there’s different social classes with still low and upper people, there’s a whole climbing the social ladder thing going on…).

# We meet again Jellia Jamb (because apparently she is the ONLY maid in the friggin’ castle was never see or hear from any other) – she is this time described as having “dark hair and eyes”, and her green clothes are embroidered with silver. It is also said that Jellia Jamb is actually Ozma’s favorite attendant. Jellia also mentions that the Scarecrow went to the Munchkin Country to get fresh straw for his body (implying the best straw comes from the East ; or that all the straw of Oz comes from the East). [Correction: latter the Scarecrow mentions his body has the “loveliest oat-straw of all Oz”, so indeed it is a case of Munchkin straw being the best – he also mentions he got his face freshly painted by the Munchkin farmer that first made him because his colors were dulling into grey]

# We are given a detailed description of the room the Shaggy Man is invited to sleep in. A handsome apartment where the furniture is upholstered in cloth of gold, with the royal crown embroidered upon it in scarlet ; a rug so thick and soft on the marble floor you can’t hear your footsteps ; the walls covered in splendid tapestries woven with scenes from the Land of Oz ; books and ornaments scattered in profusion ; in a corner a tinkling fountain of perfumed water ; in another a table bearing a golden tray loaded with freshly gathered fruits. But this is just the living room! There is also a bedroom with a bedstead of gold set with brilliant diamonds, and a coverlet with designs of pearls and rubies. There’s also a dainty dressing-room with closets filled of fresh clothing ; and a larg bathroom with a marble pool big enough to swim in, and edges set with rows of fine emeralds as large as door-knobs. There is also a special mother-of-pearl chest decorated with silver vines and flowers of rubies, specifically offered for him, with engraved the words “The Shaggy Man: His box of ornaments” and inside things such as a fine golden watch, handsome finger-rings, and ornaments of rubies to pin on the chest.

He also finds clothes fitting him perfectly (a regular thing to have when you are guest of the palace), though due to him being the Shaggy Man, everything he wears looks shaggy too: a coat of rose-colored velvet, trimmed with shagged and bobtails, with buttons of blood-red rubies and golden shags around the edges ; a vest of shaggy satin of a delicate cream color ; knee-breeches of rose velvet trimmed like the coat ; shaggy creamy stockings of silk, and shaggy slippers of rose leather with ruby buckles.

Dorothy and Button-Bright also have an outfit change, her in a “pretty gown of soft grey embroidered with silver”, him in a “blue-and-gold suit of satin”. Even Toto gets a green ribbon around his neck.

# Instead of giving us a description of Ozma, Baum prefers to say that the royal historians of Oz, despite being fine writers with a big lexicon, always failed to describe the “rare beauty” of Ozma and her bewitching face, because words are not “good enough”, but it is enough to say that her loveliness “puts to shame all the sparkling jewels and magnificent luxury” surrounding her, and everything beautiful or dainty falls to dullness when compared to her ; plus anyone seen her can only feel love and affection due to her being so sweet and attractive.

As it turns out, the bizarre event that kickstarted the book, Dorothy and Toto getting lost on mysterious roads that weren’t here a minute before, and her wandering in a magically changing landscape until she arrived in fairy-lands, was actually Ozma’s doing: it was her way to send an “invitation” to Dorothy for her birthday. I would like to personally point out that 1, we never know HOW she did that, given Ozma is not a magical person herself, though she might have used the Magic Belt, but she never actually says anything of the sort, and 2, this is a very dubious and dangerous way to invite someone to Oz, especially since she forced Dorothy to go through a lot of dangerous territories. Ozma herself admits that, monitoring her friends’ progress through the Magic Picture, she almost used twice the Magic Belt to rescue her, once with the cannibalistic tribe of Scoodlers (see another post), the second time when they tried to cross the Deadly Desert.

# The Wizard is still here, as a “dried-up, little old man, clothed all in black” with a cheery face and twinkling eyes – but still known as the “most famous humbug wizard”. The Shaggy Man is then presented to Ozma and we learn something very interesting about the Pond of Truth: the side-effect of bathing in its waters is that you are then forced to forever tell the truth, and you can’t say anymore lies. As a result when Ozma asks him about how he got ownership of the Love Magnet, he has to reveal the truth, that he stole the magical item because he wanted to be loved. Ozma notes that in Oz it is not correct or a custom to have someone being loved by magic, as she says “in Oz we are loved for ourselves alone, and for our kindness to one another, and for our good deeds” – subtly forcing the Shaggy Man to abandon the Love Magnet, which she promptly takes ownership of to place over the gates of the Emerald City, so that “whoever shall enter or leave the gates may be loved and loving”. [Note: given the actual powers of the Love Magnet, this… seems quite a bit dubious, but more when I’ll actually tackle the Magnet].

# And then we come to the celebration with all the guests. The Scarecrow riding on the Sawhorse, the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger ; Jack Pumpkinhead (who brings as a gift a necklace of pumpkin-seeds with in each seed a “sparkling carolite”, the “rarest and most beautiful gem that exists”). Follows Glinda the Good, an “important Sorceress” described as a “tall, beautiful woman clothed in a splendid trailing gown, trimmed with exquisite lace as fine as cobweb”. Then the Woggle-Bug (of his full title Mr. H. M. Woggle-Bug, T. E. (who just composed a new Ode in honor of Ozma’s birthday) ; then Billina the Yellow Hen with her numerous little chicks, her wearing a pearl necklace, and each chick having a tiny gold chain on their neck with the letter D (because Billina named all of her children “Dorothy”) ; then Tik-Tok.

And then is the whole crossover procession I talked to you about, all of the characters from the other fairy-countries around Oz : King Dough ruler of Hiland and Noland, with Chick the Cherub and Para Bruin ; Ryls from the Happy Valley ; Knooks from the Forest of Burzee ; Santa Claus who leads the Ryls and Knooks ; the Queen of Merryland with her Candy Man ; then the Braided Man (from Dorothy’s underground adventures in Book 4) ; then the Queen of Ev, with King Evardo and the other Princes and Princesses of Ev ; then King Renard of Foxville ; the queen Zixi of Ix, King Bud of Noland with his Princess Fluff… And other guests are mentioned by name but not seen arriving (because already these arrivals took two entire chapters): King Kika-bray of Dunkiton, Johnny Dooit, and the Good Witch of the North.

# The great feast has two tables, one for human (or humanoid) entities, and one for animals ; and there is also a third for other creatures such as the Ryls, Knooks, wooden soldiers, etc… There is an orchestra of five-hundred pieces from a balcony overlooking the banquet room ; and everyone is served in crystal goblets a “nectar famous in Oz and nicer than soda-water or lemonade” called “lacasa”. The Woggle-Bug reads his “Ode to Ozma”, the Wizard does some magic tricks such as having a big pie appearing, and when opening it his eight little piglets come out dancing.

# The following day, is organized a grand procession through the city (now that the communist comparison was drawn, I can’t help but think of the military parades of Russia, China, North Korea, etc…). The procession begins with a thousand young girls (only the prettiest in the land) dressed in white muslin with green sashes, green hair ribbons, and bearing great baskets of red roses that they scatter around them. Then comes the “Rulers of the Four Kingdoms of Oz” : we find back what Dorothy described as the “four Kings” in Book 4, though here we see each of these sub-rulers have a different title. The Winkie ruler is an “Emperor”, the Munchkin ruler is a “Monarch”, the Quadlings ruler is a “King” and the Gillikin ruler is a “Sovereign”, and each of them is said to wear a long chain of emeralds around their neck to show that they are vassals of the Ruler of the Emerald City (hum… a chain makes a bit this whole thing slave-like, no?). Follows the Emerald City Cornet Band (a NEW band again? That’s three if we count the other bands present in the previous books), dressed in green-and-gold uniforms, playing the “Ozma Two-Step”. Follows the Royal Army of Oz, the twenty-seven officers ; then Princess Ozma herself, with the Blue Bear Rug of Old Dyna (as it turns out somehow he became one of Ozma’s favorite subjects behind the scenes…) ; follows the Cowardly Lion and Hungry Tiger ; and then follows the foreign guests of the party. After that comes Dorothy and the Scarecrow, Polychrome and Button-Bright, the Shaggy Man, Tik-Tok, the Wizard of Oz, the Woggle-Bug and Jack Pumpkinhead, then Glinda and the Good Witch of the North, and finally Billina with her chicken.

BUT IT IS NOT OVER! There’s still the Tin Band of the Emperor of the Winkies, playing the march “There’s no Plate like Tin” (Haha, Oz joke), then all the servants of the Royal Palace. And behind them all the people of the city are invited to join. AND NOW IT IS OVER.

# The rest of the celebration is a show to delight the guests, in a pavilion of green silk and cloth of gold erected outside of the Emerald City. The Wizard, now a Master of Ceremonies, performs juggling tricks with balls and lighted candles. The Scarecrow does a sword-swallowing act, and the Tin Woodman has a “Swinging the Axe” act where he makes his axe whirl around him to rapidly the eye can’t follow the blade. Glinda the Sorceress also takes part in the show, as she uses her magic to make a big tree grow in the middle of the pavillon, with blossoms appearing on the tree and becoming delicious fruits “called tamornas”, so many of them that everyone in the crowd can eat its fill. And after Glinda, it is the turn of the Good Witch of the North to perform a magic act. And here is something very interesting…

You see, her magic trick is one of transformation. She transforms ten stones into birds, then into lambs, then into little girls, who “give a pretty dance”, and then she turns them back into stones. Why is this interesting? Well if you are an Oz fan you remember Book 2, where Glinda was quite strict and clear on transformative magic – as she explains, she herself would never dabble in transformations because it is a dishonest and deceitful magic that is only practiced by wicked witches… such as Mombi. As a result, it is very bizarre to see that the Good Witch of the North uses transformation as if it was some usual fun. Of course, it is very possible that Baum simply forgot that, as we know he was never quite strict and consistent in his magic system – and we will never knew more because it is the second and last time the Good Witch of the North actually appears in the Oz books written by Baum.

The show ends with Johnny Dooit building a flying machine on stage and using it to leave the party, thanking everyone for the invitation. This marks the time of departure for the guests – and while we never learn how they actually arrived in Oz, we see that to leave they use a wonderful invention of the Wizard: a machine able to make human-sized soap bubbles, strong enough to actually carry people in them through the air (apparently he just needs to put a super-glue that dries when in contact with air to solidify the bubbles). And so with these giant bubbles of iridescent hues, he provides a transportation for all the guests to return home. Everyone goes home with those bubbles, except Dorothy and Toto who are a bit too afraid of this flying technique and prefer to be sent home by the Magic Belt.

- - - - -

Yep, as it turns out, the "flying in a bubble" idea wasn't invented by the MGM movie : it was already written by Baum in his Oz books. That's not something many people know.

#oz #land of oz #what we know of oz #the emerald city #emerald city

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softboywriting · 3 years

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Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

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The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

_____________________

"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#billy russo #the punisher series #the punisher #the punisher netflix #billy russo x reader #ben barnes characters #the punisher fic #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

London Calling - 1

Yes, I'm still in my August phase and I'm not even sorry...I just can't stop thinking about the sexy mf and so this idea crossed my mind and turned into a storyline. I have to admit I'm even more nervous about posting this than usual because it's a little different from what I've written before and I really hope it's not going to bore the shit out of you. If you like this although the tension between August and my ofc builds slowly, please let me know. I appreciate every single comment, reblog and/or like! Thanks 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Lu Johnson)

Words: ~3.0 k

Summary and A/N: This story plays with the thought of "what if…" What if August Walker had taken another road? What if he had turned into John Lark for completely different reasons? What if he had found love before becoming a bitter, disillusioned man?So the events of "London Calling" take place about ten years prior to MI:Fallout and August Walker hasn't joined the CIA yet, he's an FBI Agent and his new mission in London that lies ahead of him is going to be a challenging one. Maybe it's even going to change his life.

Warnings: 18+! This story deals with the topic of a toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting and problematic behavior of one of the protagonists in general. Please don't read if these topics trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable. Luckily I've never been in any kind of toxic or abusive relationship, so I lack personal experience but I hope still do this sensitive topic justice.

English is not my mother tongue but the lovely @sillyrabbit81 was so kind to be my very helpful and patient Beta! Thank you so, so much, bunny 🐇💜 You have no idea how much I appreciate your support, your encouragement, your help and the fact that you took the time to proofread this. (Edited by me, so there might still be mistakes and they're all mine)

📖 You can find my other fics on my Masterlist 📖

Credits: I don't own August Walker or anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claims: Lu - Hannah van der Westhuysen, Adam - Freddie Thorpe. FaceApp helped me with making August look a little younger

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfanfics101 @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke

So...now...off we go...story under the cut!

"London? Are you kidding me, Kyle?"

August Walker stopped pacing the room with an incredulous frown. He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes fixed on the other man's face.

"Absolutely not," his superior and close friend of many years said slowly, drawling both words more than necessary to stress that he wasn't joking. "They want you in London."

"What about my promotion? You gave me your word. You wanted me to finish Operation Old Bridge and that's what I did. You wanted Tony Salerno's head on a silver platter, that's what you got."

August's voice was surprisingly calm, his expression blank but his gaze was blazing with anger and frustration. His hands were balled into fists and he only opened them to lean on Kyle's wooden desk, which was very tidy, except for the piles of case files that slowly grew larger than him.

"Damn, Kyle, I risked my life when I went undercover and joined this Mafia mob."

"I know, August, but unfortunately my hands are tied. Interpol wants our best undercover Agent and that's you. Just this last job and afterwards you can happily join the CIA." SSA Kyle Langdon leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck with a sigh and an apologetic shrug.

"That's exactly what you said last time. Do you expect me to believe you?"

"As I said, it's not my doing. Manchester contacted Bill because the NCB needs help, blue notice, August. You know that we cannot say no and that means...London calling, man," Kyle pointed out with a smile. "You should be grateful, it's a great opportunity. So just do your job there, return and get your promotion."

"Why don't you just send someone else and I get my promotion right now? We have many great undercover agents. Craig for example. He's crazy about British pussies. He'll love London." August straightened his tall body before crossing his arms in front of his broad chest that was forced into a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket.

"No, Craig cannot go because they want you in this operation. They asked explicitly for Agent August Walker. That's a huge appreciation of your work and a big compliment. You're only 27, August, not many FBI agents are this well known and respected at such a young age." Kyle sat up straight, mirroring August's body language.

"I don't give a shit about their respect and appreciation. I know my worth and I know I'm your best agent. I've worked very hard to get where I stand now... just one step away from becoming a CIA agent," August said angrily, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark. "Fuck, Kyle...why use an American agent in a purely British matter in the first place? They could easily…"

"Listen, August," Kyle cut in and he got up and walked around his desk to face his friend, "the thing is, I am not asking you to do this, okay? It's not a request, it's an order. There's no room to negotiate."

He gave him a friendly smile to temper his words before placing a hand on August's shoulder. "No hard feelings. It's…"

"It's the job. Yeah. I know." August took a step back and nodded his head slowly, curling his lip. He had heard his boss say these words so many times and he hated that line although he was perfectly aware that it was the truth. That was the way it worked. They got orders, they did the job, no matter what. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling a bad headache brewing behind his forehead.

"I have already talked to Sloane about this. Erica seconds the motion by Interpol because she wants you to prove yourself in another operation abroad. If you are successful you will be part of her team. It's simple, Walker. Just don't fuck this up."

"I've never fucked anything up,” August snarled, clenching his teeth, his jaw grinding.

"See, that's exactly why they want you,” Kyle answered with a triumphant smile.

****

"Lu!" Adam Mayfield knocked impatiently on the bathroom door. "Get ready. We're going to be late." He glanced at his Rolex with an annoyed sigh before he straightened his tuxedo jacket and adjusted his bow tie for the umpteenth time. "God damn, this meeting is important." He banged his fist against the door again and rolled his eyes when he heard her muffled voice behind the bathroom walls. "Just a minute, Adam."

Although he was really a little angry that it took her so long to get ready, they weren't actually late, in fact there was more than enough time to meet up with his clients at The London Opera. He had just said that to make her hurry up. Lu had the tendency to dawdle around, she got easily distracted and it was his responsibility to help her with that bad habit and usually it worked well.

Compared to the woman she was when they had met at a party more than five years ago, she had improved her behavior a lot, thanks to his efforts and his strict education. She had been common as muck when they started dating, an ordinary working class girl, smart but not a bit sophisticated, pretty but with no sense of fashion or taste, ambitious but without any connections. He had changed that, he had moulded her into the beautiful, stylish, refined and cultured woman she was now. She was his work, his success, his pride...she was his.

When the door of the bathroom that was adjacent to the master bedroom finally swung open, the welcoming sight of his fiancee interrupted his thoughts and picked up his spirits immediately.

"Wow, this was worth the wait." He eyed her up and down with a smirk and leaned in for a kiss but she stopped him with her hands pressed against his narrow chest.

"No, you're gonna ruin my make-up, darling." Lu smiled at him and spinned around to present him her dress. The black, belted Burberry gown was elegant and classy. High-necked on the front but with a low back that showed off lots of her perfect, lightly tanned skin. Chaste and sexy at the same time, just the way Adam liked it.

"That dress is stunning, baby. You look wonderful." He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close to leave a sensual kiss on her slim neck while his hands wandered to her ass where they rested for a moment before they squeezed her firm cheeks. "I really hope you're not wearing any panties."

Lu freed herself from his embrace with a frown and stepped in front of the large wall mirror opposite of their king-size bed to check her reflection one last time, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Of course I'm wearing panties. We're going to the opera with your VIP clients." She walked to her dressing table and took the diamond-encrusted, leaf-shaped brooch Adam had given her for their five years anniversary on New Year's Eve. "Would you help me with this?"

Adam took the piece of jewelry from her slim hand and pinned it carefully on her dress, right above her heart. He kissed her tenderly but his expression was stern when he spoke. "Strip it off."

Lu's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"You heard me. Get rid of your thong. I know you're wearing one of these slutty, tiny g-strings to make sure your look is flawless and your underwear doesn't show under your dress." His face hardened slightly, yet his voice remained soft and smooth.

"But…"

"Don't test me, Lu,” he said slowly, still smiling but screwing up his beautiful grey eyes. "I want you naked underneath that dress in case I want to have a little fun with you tonight. I mean, we both know Rigoletto is gonna be boring as fuck, we may need a little distraction." He gave her a lewd smirk and with a tiny frown and a raise of his brows he motioned her to be obedient. "You don't want anything to get in my way, do you? Not even a little piece of lace, right?"

"Of course not, Adam," she answered softly with a smile she had to force onto her lips. Lu reached under her dress with shaking hands and pulled down her panties till they hit the floor so she could step out of them carefully, making sure they wouldn't get tangled up in her stiletto heels.

"Good girl," Adam said with a wolfish grin and with a sly smile he added, "you know what, baby? I think I'm going to have a little fun with you just now. My clients can wait."

Lu didn't even try to argue with him, knowing exactly that she was in a no-win situation. She closed her eyes and turned around, lifting up her dress, when she heard him unzip his fly.

****

While Adam Mayfield was fucking his fiancee in front of a mirror in one of the most exclusive penthouses in London, August Walker was having a bad coffee, sitting at a table in the plain and pretty ugly meeting room of their FBI department at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington DC, listening to the explanations of Kyle and the lead of 'Operation Brutus', Christine Carpenter. He didn't like her much but he respected her competence and her leadership qualities and most of all he trusted her with giving him the perfect fake identity for the job in London.

"So, what do you have for me, Chris?" August looked at her with a smile, but his eyes gave away that he'd rather be somewhere else.

"Well, let me just explain the background first, okay?"

She pressed a button on her laptop and the handsome face of a young man appeared on the screen behind her.

"This", she nodded at the picture, "is Adam Arthur Clive Mayfield, 27 years old, only son of Alfred Mayfair and his late wife Erica, heir of the immense family fortune and the private bank Mayfield & Holmes, that was established by his ancestors more than 200 years ago. He is one of the most eligible bachelors in the United Kingdom, and one of the richest, too. His father officially still runs the family business but he isn't in the best state of health, so in fact Mayfield junior is the one who's at the helm. Unlike his father he's not a man of integrity, he's been on the radar of the British authorities for years. From dealing drugs and other minor crimes in his college years to insider trading, investor fraud, misappropriation and money laundering nowadays. He is a big fish, has connections all over the world, drug rings, gun runners, human traffickers, you name it."

"And the Brits are not able to catch him without my help?" August couldn't help but smirk cockily.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Walker. The problem is, he is a damn genius. IQ score beyond 150, very clever, very cautious, a strategic mastermind, always ahead of the authorities. They tried to infiltrate his business a few times but they failed miserably, so now they want to concentrate on his private life."

"And this is gonna be my part?"

"Exactly," Kyle said, getting up to join Christine in front of the screen. "He has a few bodyguards he always hires from an American agency. They are known for their discretion and loyalty and the bodyguards they place with their clients are the best of the best. Unfortunately one of his bodyguards died in an accident a week ago and now he needs a new one. Luckily, we have the owner of the agency by the balls for several major crimes. He cooperates or he will end up behind bars for the rest of his life."

"To cut a long story short, he will place you with Mayfield and you can become part of his daily life. Your job consists of monitoring and collecting information and data. I will give you an exact briefing later," Christine finished Kyle's explanations.

"So I will just be his lapdog?"

"Not his," Kyle grinned, "hers."

The picture on the screen changed, now showing a young, blonde woman. The second he saw her, he judged her.

He could tell what she was like, just by her looks, by the way she jutted her chin in the picture, by her perfectly manicured fingers, by her flawless make up and the expensive clothes. He knew women like her, a walking stereotype, the blond, beautiful Trophy Wife Barbie that's always by Millionaire Ken's side. Pretty on the outside, boring on the inside. Lame bimbos that only lived for showing off their designer clothes and it-bags, tripping around in high heels that cost more than he earned in a month, finding self-fulfilment in stupid things like designing overpriced furniture, running a yoga studio or doing charity stuff. Useless, needless but still blueprints for millions of girls who would literally give the shirt off their backs to catch themselves a rockstar, a famous actor, a hyped football player or just a rich heir.

"This is Mayfield's fiancee," Kyle said, pointing at the photo, "you're gonna be her personal bodyguard."

"How am I supposed to monitor him, when I have to be on her heels all the time?"

"You're gonna live with them, there will be lots of opportunities. Just make her trust you, we need her to open up, get her to talk. They've been together for years, she should know what he's involved in," Chris explained and she made it sound easy when in fact it wasn't only hard to gain a stranger's trust, in this case it was even dangerous.

"Alright. Tell me about her."

"Her name is Lucretia Johnson, 24 years old," Kyle started reading the memo.

"Lucretia?" August let out an amused snort.

"Yeah," Kyle grinned, "her mother seems to have a preference for strange names, her younger sister's called Petronilla."

"What the fuck?" August laughed out loud. "Is she some kind of Latin professor or something?"

"Well, first of all she's dead," Christine took over with a serious look on her face, she was notorious for her lack of humour, "and secondly, no, she was not a professor. She was an alcoholic and a complete mess. An irresponsible, uncaring mother who spent too much time fucking around and too little time taking care of her daughters. Petronilla was taken away from her when she was 15 and was handed over to youth welfare. Lucretia was 18 at the time and lived on the campus of the Chelsea College of Art and Design."

"So she's an artist, huh?" August knew the ridicule in his voice wasn't very professional but he just couldn't help it.

"Maybe, at least she has a master degree in curating and owns a little gallery in Covent Garden. Well, actually Mayfield owns it, she just runs it."

"So, to sum it up, she's made it from the daughter of a drunkard to the fiancee of one of the richest heirs in the kingdom. She's fucked her way to the top. I guess that's all I need to know about her."

"Don't be so sure, August. She seems to be smart," Kyle threw in, "I think there's more to her than the pretty face. It's just a gut feeling but I guess you'll find out soon enough."

August took a deep breath, rolling his eyes at Kyle. "Sure. She's the saint that sleeps with the devil."

"That's not what I said, mate. But whatever she is, you'll have to deal with it."

"What's my cover, Christine?" August wanted to know.

"Well, your alias was born in 1981, just like you, but on the fifth of May. Born and raised in Portland, Maine. Only child, mother deceased, not on speaking terms with his father, a mechanic who still lives in Portland. You can find the details of your early life and your family tree in the memo," she waved the file above her head before she continued. "Careerwise...ex military, ex cop, had some problems following the rules and respecting the law. Single, no ex-wifes, no kids. We kept it plain and simple. They will not dig deep anyway. According to the agency boss, Mayfield expects his bodyguards to be disciplined, always on duty, quiet and discreet. There's three of you. Benjamin Garner is Mayfield's watchdog and his personal assistant, Edward Landow was Johnson's guard you're gonna replace, Andrew Brown is the back-up. You and Garner live with them, Brown lives nearby with his girlfriend. There's other staff of course, a housekeeper, a cook, cleaners. No chauffeur, no butler, no assistant, that's all part of your job."

"Great," August let out an annoyed snort, "so basically I'm gonna be her servant."

"Basically," Chris fixed her gaze on August, "you're not gonna leave her side unless you're told to. Just be professional, stay in the background, prick up your ears, listen closely and be careful. No obvious nosing around. Their penthouse is a high tech fortress, including video monitoring, so just…"

"I know how to work undercover," August cut in impatiently, "just gimme that fucking file and let me do my job."

Christine gave him a pissed look but she handed him the document with a shrug and without further comment. August grabbed it from her hands, staring at the data of his new life, his new name and the composite sketch of his new look. He would have to stop shaving.

*****

tbc

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #slow burn

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

steve getting caught in the rain on the way home from work and barging through the front door bangs dripping and cheeks pink and bucky looking up from his spot on the sofa with alpine and thinking i’m fucked

so it's like 1 am and this was going to be something chaotic and smutty but it ended up being a view of steve's pain from the eyes of bucky

oop anway:

In From the Cold

From Stevie: Left my key at home. Can you let me in?

Bucky gets the text right before there’s a knock at the front door, and he presses to his feet, shifting Alpine off his lap. It takes a moment to undo all the latches and locks, and by the time he does, Steve has knocked again-- sharper. Frantic. Bucky frowns and opens the door.

“Shit, Steve,” he says, and steps to the side to let Steve in past him.

He’s soaked, straight through to his skin. His hair is plastered to his forehead, clumped and stiff with sleet. His nose and cheeks are bright against his otherwise pale skin, and his lips are a tad blue.

He’s shaking. Hard.

It’s then that Bucky realizes that sleet is coming down outside, the sky blanketed a gloomy grey. The storm had been on the radar, but somehow he’d forgotten about it. Steve, it seemed, had forgotten as well when he’d left for his meeting that morning.

“Yeah,” Steve says, taking off his jacket. His movements are stiff and Bucky reaches out a hand, taking the soaked jacket from him before he can hang it on its hook. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Go ahead and take off the rest of your clothes. I’ll throw them in the wash. Do you want a bath?”

Steve swallows, a shudder running visibly through him and Bucky doesn’t need a psych degree to guess what’s going on. Between the wet and the cold, this is hardly Steve’s preferred state to be in. There’s a vacancy in his eyes that makes Bucky’s blood run cold.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yes. Please.”

Bucky’s blood runs cold as a cough wracks Steve’s body, and he instinctively listens for a rattle in his lungs. The cough is not dry, though. Silver linings.

His hair is plastered to his forehead, and Bucky curses, reaching out to usher Steve inside. His clothes are soaked and sticking to his frame, hugging him in a way that seems to accentuate his size. Make him look even smaller. He coughs again.

“Jesus, you got a death wish?” Bucky hisses, hands working to unbutton Steve’s shirt-- get the wet fabric off, because it’s going to make him sick and Steve just got over his last fucking cold.

Steve bats his hand away, leveling him with a glare.

“No, shut up,” he says, and the harshness is dampened by the chattering of his teeth. He unbuttons his own shirt and tosses it aside, the bruises on his collarbone from a work mishap earlier that week stark and purple. Bucky wants to reach out and soothe his fingers over them-- kiss them away.

Instead, he goes to his closet and pulls out a clean shirt and some boxer shorts that will be too big on Steve, but at least they’re warm.

“I thought you were seeing your ma,” Bucky says, handing Steve the clothes. Steve strips naked right there in their hallway. He’s unabashed and it makes the lithe lines of his body all the more beautiful.

“I was,” Steve says. It’s clipped and Bucky’s gut twinges. Sarah had gotten sick a week or so ago-- an awful, wracking cough. Bucky had hoped, fucking prayed that it wasn’t the worst. But Sarah worked in a TB ward, and life didn’t seem so kind to the Rogers family. “They wouldn’t let me in.”

“Shit,” Bucky says.

Steve is dressed now, Bucky’s boxers barely clinging to his hips. He sits down on Bucky’s bed, and Bucky sits, too.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he’s holding himself so tightly that Bucky’s afraid he might snap.

Steve holds himself tightly as he sits on the edge of the tub, his eyes on the rising water level, but mind clearly elsewhere. Bucky watches him for a moment as he returns from the laundry room-- watches his chest heave and hands tremble.

He is naked where he sits, and the way he hunches in on himself makes him look smaller. Bucky’s chest aches and he desperately wishes he could reach out and break the spell-- break the hold Steve’s mind seems to have on him right now. But he knows a thing or two about triggers, and he may not know what happened when Steve crashed that plane-- not details anyhow-- but he knows damn well that Steve still isn’t healed from that particular wound. It will likely follow him to his real grave. The pain. The fear. The damning finality of it.

And it seems like a final damnation. One not so beautiful as the perdition that was Steve taking Bucky into his body. But a much starker one. As unforgiving as a son losing his mother can be when he’s already lost his father. Steve says he hadn’t cared much when Joseph finally died-- his own faults pulling him under the current. But there’s a shame there that he can’t seem to quell. Regret that runs in the tightness of his eyes, smoldering and masked by a harshness that doesn’t fit the gentleness that is the skin of Steve Rogers. The soul and bones that are so hurt by a world keen on hurting them.

There’s a grief that wants to rise in Bucky’s own chest. Sarah doesn’t deserve this-- he wishes he could change it. Make it untrue. Make it better.

But he can deal with his own shit later. Right now, Steve is hurting and Bucky needs to coax him out of his shell. Lance some of that pain.

His hair is still dripping from the storm outside and Bucky reaches out, brushes his fingers through the sopping strands. Steve looks at him, eyes hollow and shining-- a strange dichotomy.

“Let me run you a bath?”

Steve sinks into the bath water, eyes closed as his chest hitches and stutters. He sinks down until the water covers his chest, stops at his chin. And it would be an endearing sight if he didn’t look so damn troubled.

Bucky hesitates.

“Do you want me here? Or would you rather be alone.”

Please God, he thinks. Please let me in. Let me stay. Let me shoulder some of your pain.

Steve’s jaw shifts, then clenches. He battles with himself, caught between the draw of comfort and his own internal walls telling him to close the gates.

Bucky waits.

“Can you wash my hair?” Steve eventually asks.

Bucky smiles. “Of course, pal.”

Bucky takes off his shirt so it won’t get wet and kneels by the edge of the tub. Steve leans back to wet his hair. It seems like instinct more than anything. His hair was already pretty damn wet. Bucky picks up the shampoo-- half empty and a little crusted around the cap-- and squirts some out onto his palm.

Lathering it up, he leans closer.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

Steve closes his eyes and Bucky begins to work the shampoo into his hair, pressing his fingers into his scalp, around his temples. Tension seems to ebb out of Steve in increments and Bucky is hopeful for a moment that he’s leaching out some of the shock.

And he must have taken away the numbness, because then Steve is sobbing, and Bucky is cursing softly as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, climbing into the tub behind Steve. He rinses his hair, and doesn’t bother with soft nothings. Because it isn’t okay. And Steve doesn’t deserve dismissal like that.

Instead, he pulls him close and buries his nose in his hair.

With practiced hands, Bucky works his coconut shampoo into Steve’s hair. It’s his favorite even if he won’t admit it and never buys it for himself. That’s alright, though. Bucky doesn’t mind sharing.

He feels Steve’s skin warm up-- rinses his hair with rhythmic and soothing touches, skittering his hands down Steve’s shoulders and across his chest as he goes, aiming to ground him. But Steve is not speaking and he is still shaking.

“Steve?” Bucky prompts gently.

Steve looks at him, gaze darting to his eyes, then his cheek, fixating there. A shudder rolls through him and he goes impossibly more pale.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, alarmed, and then Steve’s chest is heaving as his breaths start to speed up. “Shit.”

Bucky strips off his clothes, and climbs into the tub with Steve, keeping a hand on him as he sinks into the water.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, and Steve manages a nod. He’s going to hyperventilate if they don’t get a hold of this now. Bucky pulls Steve back against his chest and buries his nose in his hair. “Breathe with me. Just feel me, Steve. Just feel me and breathe.”

Steve does.

Steve is worn out by the time they’re settling in bed, and Bucky shifts him so his head is on his chest. They’re quiet for a long time, watching the sun set, shadows moving across the ceiling.

“I’m scared,” Steve says, his voice hoarse from crying.

Bucky tenses. “I know.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

There isn’t anything for it. Bucky wants to promise that he won’t leave. That he’ll be there, but Steve knows that and reiterating it will only exacerbate the pain of those who can’t be there for him.

“I’m so tired,” Steve whimpers.

“I’m so fucking tired of this,” Steve says as he comes down, voice tight and teeth chattering. At least he’s breathing on his own now.

Then rest, Bucky wants to say. Come in from the cold. Let us help. Let people help.

“I know,” he says instead. “I know, honey. But you did so good just now.”

Steve shrugs. “Can we get out?”

“Sure thing.”

They dry off together, and settle into bed, naked still and wrapped up in each other. Steve settles on his chest, head tucked under Bucky’s chin. An age old position-- Steve will always fit right in Bucky’s arms.

Steve falls asleep with his hand clinging to Bucky’s. He usually looks more peaceful when he is resting, but now his mouth is turned down-- the lines of his face seem to deepen. He looks much older than he actually is, but Bucky has always sort of thought that. Steve, he thinks, has had to grow up too fast.

There’s a moment where Steve seems to drift awake, eyes opening then shutting again. He makes a soft noise and shifts closer to Bucky.

Bucky holds him and prays he feels held.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve says. It was worth a shot.

“Okay,” Bucky says. “Can I do anything?”

Steve swallows, arms tightening around Bucky’s middle. “Just hold me?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, and he hitches Steve closer, kisses the top of his head.

“This helps,” Steve whispers, and Bucky holds his breath. “You holding me. It feels safe.”

“I’m so glad,” Bucky says. His throat feels tight and he ducks his head to kiss Steve’s temple. It settles something in him, knowing Steve feels safe in his arms. “I’ll always hold you.”

thanks for reading, chiefs!

#this is largely unedited because it is late so sorry for any mistakes #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #i have so many wips i should be working on instead oops #anyway cass this was wonderful thank you

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eclipsedpascal · 3 years

Text

Lavender Bruises

Older!Duncan x Female reader

A meeting with you and your father’s company’s buyers, leads to the shocking realisation that you had unknowingly slept with it’s new owner, Duncan Shepherd, just the night before. You needed to hide this sinful secret from your father, which left you stuck between wanting to make him proud and the unsatisfied craving you couldn’t ignore for Duncan to claim you as his personal toy. But you could manage both. Right?

Warnings: mentions of work (ew), alcohol, one night stands, large age gap, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), intercourse, spit kink, slapping, spanking, hickeys, bruising, degrading/teasing, mouth fucking with fingers? is that a thing?, hair pulling and a ring kink ig:)

Notes: I've been writing this for fkn MONTHS now bcs I kept loosing inspiration, so this is actually the first thing I ever properly wrote! it's kinda complicated ig? idk like the parts in bold are a time skip to the night before and the fic goes in-between the meeting the reader is at and the previous night, meaning there’s two separate smut scenes so!!! but yeah i'm a whore lmao. Also ik hickeys don’t show up the same on certain skin tones and i’m sorry for that. i tried my best to be as inclusive as possible nd didn’t mention anything to do with the skin tone. Also!! if you're interested, I was listening to Cherry lips by garbage most the time I was writing this nd I feel like it fits it pretty well😌

Word count: 8.4k

●●●●●●●●

Going over the logistics of a content deal with the conglomerate that had recently bought your fathers newspaper wasn't the most preferable way for you to spend your lunch, but unfortunately it was necessary.

You know how these “lunches” go; business meetings disguised as casual discussions. They’re exactly the same if taken place in a conference room. Disagreeing and having to come to compromises you’d rather not, with the only differences being there's more chatter and cluttered noise of dinnerware coming from the restaurant around you.

You much preferred being in the office for these kind of things, but it was at the request of the new owners that you meet here, meaning you didn’t really have choice.

As you arrived at the restaurant you saw your father inside, waiting for your arrival just past the main entrances oversized, glass doors. You were almost 10 minutes late now and you knew he would be pissed. Honestly, you couldn't blame him.

Having to rush through a traffic riddled DC to get home at 10 in the morning because you had spent the previous night in a strangers hotel bed wasn't your proudest moment. Was it worth it? Yes, but it didn’t exactly leave you with much time to prepare for the lunch only two hours later.

You payed the driver and stepped out of the cab onto the drowning, wet sidewalk, desperately trying to shield yourself from the relentless rain that had been pouring down on the city all morning.

Looking up at the grand building on front of you, you could tell the place was going to be expensive. The entrances steps were 12ft wide and made of a pearly white marble that was now soaked with cascading rain water, making them even harder for you to run up in your heels as you tried escape the cold.

“Y/N, where have you been? You're 10 minutes late and these people don't like to be kept waiting." The people your father was referring to? the owners of Gardner Analytics. they had bought what seemed like hundreds of press company's over the past few years, especially those in the DC area. Their most recent purchase being the Washington herald, of which your father was the Editor-in-chief. You had been working there for a few months as your fathers assistant and helping out at these meetings had become routine.

“I'm so so sorry, my alarm didn't wake me and I-“

"It's fine" He interrupted "It's fine, just please tell me you have the documents I asked you to bring?" You could tell he was stressed out from the way his voice was wavering and how often he was stumbling over his words, so instead of trying to explain yourself any further you stayed quiet and did your best to take in as much of the information he was relaying onto you as you possibly could.

As he led you through the dinning room he explained to you who else was there, telling you that the others from the herald who were attending the lunch had already began talks with Gardener Analytics at the table ten minutes prior.

The closer you got to the table the more your fathers voice faltered, trying to round off the conversation so he could properly introduce himself when the time came. "Now Bill Shepherd had to cancel last minute, said it was something to do with his health unfortunately. But not to worry! I've spoken with him over the phone and he's informed me his nephew is filling in for him, okay?”

Before you even had a chance to reply he turned from you, reaching over the table to shake hands with a man you recognised as Seth Grayson; their director of communications, and an older woman who you assumed was Annette Shepherd. She and her brother Bill were the owner's of Gardner Analytics and your father had said it was important he got on their good side.

As your father greeted the others, you began retrieving the documents out of your bag, knowing they would be needed by Seth right away.

"..So sorry for the delay Mr Shepherd, you know how DC traffic can be" Your father chuckled slightly as he shook the man’s hand, making some light small talk. Mr Shepherd? that must be bill’s nephew, you thought.

You felt even more unprepared now; you didn’t even know the man’s name.

"This is my daughter and assistant, Y/N" Upon hearing your father introduce you to the mystery Shepherd, you slotted the documents under one arm and reached out to shake his hand with your other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shepherd" But as you shifted your gaze up to his own, you realised that there was no need for introductions.

He smiled gently, a kind of smug delight obvious in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking you all in. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N"

He released your hand from his grasp, moving to clasp his own behind his back. “But please, call me Duncan.”

Duncan fucking Shepherd. how could you be so oblivious? The two of you had spent hours together last night. How hadn't you figured out who he was? As panic ripped through you like a wildfire, you wondered if Duncan was feeling the same way; but from the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

●●●●●●●●

11:34pm previous night

It was getting pretty late now, and meeting someone who could fuck the stress out of you was becoming less and less likely by the minute. so deciding to finish your drink and leave, you took in the room one last time; making sure you hadn’t missed anyone interesting.

The fluorescent red and blue lighting of the expensive hotel bar was just bright enough for you to spot an older man you hadn’t noticed before. He must have been at least 40. He was sat in a booth with five or six others, all drinking, laughing and joking, yet he was staring at you.

Taking the seat next to you, he called out to the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”

You'd been waiting for him to come over ever since you saw him. It had been 20 minutes or so of quick glances and smiles to each other before the group of men he had been with dissipated. You had heard one of the men he was with refer to him as ‘Duncan’ when he had said his goodbyes, but other than that all you could assume about the man was that he was rich; judging by the all black LV suit he was wearing.

"Can I buy you a drink?” Turning to face at him when you heard him speak, you were practically stupefied by how attractive he was. His hair was full of shiny grey streaks that aged him. His stubble complimented his cheekbones perfectly and the speckles of grey throughout it helped bring out the brightness of his piercing blue eyes. His lips were full, and you couldn't help but notice how soft they looked.

“Vodka and coke” You smiled, trying your best to be confidant, but they way he was looking at you was giving you butterfly's you couldn’t swat away.

“I.D?” The bartender asked. You grabbed it out of your purse, proving your age to the bartender before watching him walk away to make your drink.

There was a brief silence before the man spoke again. “I hope my staring didn’t bother you, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His flattery almost made you blush, but he wasn’t going to get you with a line that bad.

“Didn’t bother me at all, though i’m sure your friends there must have been envious” You chose to ignore his cheesy line, knowing that as much as you wanted him to take you there and then, you would much prefer making him work for it.

He chuckled slightly, knowing the game you had chosen to play. he looked away from you and down into his glass before taking a swig of the golden-brown liquor that occupied it. “Well I’m known to be quite a busy man, so I’m sure they understood.” He turned to face you slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“Busy enough of a man to be drinking on a Tuesday night?” You questioned him teasingly, Ignoring that you yourself had the most important meeting of your young career in just over twelve hours.

“Is that really such a surprise? Most times being so busy is the main reason for drinking” He joked with you as he flirted, making it hard for you to keep eye contact without going red at the thought of such a beautiful man seeking your attention.

Duncan could see how nervous you were under the confident demeanour you had put on, I mean you were practically screaming it out to him at this point. The way you were fidgeting with the chain of your silver earring as you leaned against the bar and the fact you couldn’t even look at him for longer than 3 seconds without blushing was evidence enough for him.

“Well, that’s true.” You giggled a little as you spoke in your anxious state.

Taking a hold of your drink, you wrapped your lips around the paper straw and moved your gaze over to the bartender who was now serving someone a few seats down, attempting to distract and ground yourself from the situation at hand.

You were gripped back into reality quickly when you heard him speak again.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to eat you.” You found his use of the phrase quite ironic, being that’s exactly how it seemed. His eyes were piercing into you in an almost questioning manner, but when he gazed over your body, taking in your satin, black slip dress covered curves, the swipe of his tongue against his plump bottom lip gave you a very different impression; an impression he wanted to devour you. It was as if he thought you were that sweet snack he had been craving all week.

“No? That's a shame” You faked a frown, pouting as you moved to rest your chin on your hand.

“Well I think we should at least be aware of each others names before making such wild propositions, don’t you…?” His smirk never seemed to leave his face as he spoke.

He was good at this game, better than you at least. Of course It was obvious he was going to have had more experience with his age and all, but the way he was charming you so easily with just plain old conversation and confidence was getting harder and harder to match.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You batted your eyelashes at him a little, for some reason feeling smaller upon revealing your name to him. You felt as if you had lost the upper hand in the conversation suddenly.

“Hm, Y/N. That’s beautiful.” You rolled your eyes. Of course it is. Thats what they all say. You thought.

“Aren't you going to ask mine?” His ego now showing, you decided to make a bolder move.

“You rather fancy yourself, don’t you, Duncan?”

He finished his drink and moved closer to you. “Oh, so you already know my name?”

He was close enough to you now that you could make out the many beauty marks which decorated his cheekbones and hear the rasp of his voice even better than before. It was thick as honey and just as sweet too.

“I heard your friend call you it.” You quickly replied.

He scoffed a little, finding amusement in what he was about to say. He brought his face down closer to yours and began to run his fingers through your hair. “Hm, well he’s an old friend sweetheart. Most people would call me Mr Shepherd.”

You felt yourself grow hot, Duncans words casting a haze of complete lust over your mind.

You did your best to stay confidant, doing everything you could to ensure you didn't loose this game the two of you were playing. “Really? Is that what you like? Mr Shepherd.”

Your faces were so close to each others now that you could smell the bourbon on his breath when he let out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites showing as he did so. You even felt him graze his stubble against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” He ran his finger over your lips as he spoke slowly. "So tell me, what is it that does it for you Y/N? Hm? I mean a girl your age doesn’t decide to stare at a man like me all night just for the hell of it. So what is it? The power? The money? Or is it the age gap so big I could be your father?”

You squeeze your legs together as his sentence finishes, letting out a hushed whimper. Of course you were attracted to older men, that was obvious, but hearing him say it out loud in public whilst being so close to you turned you on even more than you thought previously possible.

He chuckled a little, “So it’s the age then, is it sweetheart? The idea of having a man more.. experienced pleasure you, instead of a man who would leave you to fend for yourself after finishing in less than five minutes. You want someone who can make you cum so hard you’d be begging him to make it stop, don’t you?” Every move Duncan made, every word he spoke was calculated, and it was all in pursuit of teasing you just because he knew he could.

You made a mental note of his nickname for you as you looked up at him. You felt his fingers run across your cheek and then push some stray hairs back behind your ear as you desperately tried to think of something smart to say, anything to say; but he had won. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. You didn’t even care anymore. You were more than ready to give what little of a resolve you still had up to him.

He whispered to you as he moved his spare hand up the small of your back. “Now little one, I have the presidential suite of this hotel under my name tonight. So what do you say we go on up? Since now we're just so well aquatinted."

●●●●●●●●

Having to take part in a meeting with your father and the man double your age that you had fucked for hours the night before was NOT what you had planned for today.

“Mr Shepherd, I apologise that I didn’t make it here on time. I had a pretty hectic morning.” You did your best to keep your chill in your now shocked state, but with everyone watching the two of you it wasn’t easy.

“No don’t worry, I know how DC traffic can be, especially in this weather. As long as you're here now.” A wide smile was planted on his face as he spoke. The same as last night. He never broke eye contact with you, and you found yourself wondering how he could do it so easily.

“Please, sit.” He gestured you over to take a seat as he pulled out the chair next to his own. You thanked him politely and sat down, your mind racing and spiralling out of control at the thought of your father discovering the sinful deeds you and his new boss had taken part in just hours prior.

You felt him tuck you into the table before sitting down next to you. You could hear the voices of the restaurant that surrounded you and the others at the table coming at you. Every noise was muffled, as if your head was suddenly underwater.

“Y/N?” You were quickly brought back to reality when you heard Seth question you.

“From my understating you have the merger documents in your belonging, yes?” He looked at your father for reassurance this was definitely case as he spoke. So with everyone at the table’s eyes on you, you slid the documents over to him.

“Yes! And uhm the specifications for the more politically based content changes are detailed on page 25. I was told that was of high interest today?” You got yourself back on track, trying to stay as professional as possible whilst ignoring Duncan and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“We were briefly discussing the more major changes before you arrived Mr Y/L/N, but I believe you’ve already been made aware of most them?” Duncan addressed your father, kicking the meeting off. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were listening to the conversation, you really were! It was just that you were so wrapped up in Duncan’s voice you couldn’t actually understand what the fuck they were all talking about.

Seeing him so invested in the crucial conversation he was having with your father and the many other associates at the table was just doing something to you.

Observing the way his hands were moving when he spoke, you noticed how he would often clasp them together when he was explaining things, and how he would tilt his head slightly as he listened. His bronzed curls were combed to perfection, resting delicately on the right side of his face and when he licked his bottom lip, it sent a shiver down through your spine all the way to your cunt. You were entirely captivated by him.

Hearing your Father ask for your opinion on the subject being discussed, you shook off the spell Duncan’s attractiveness had casted onto you and responded, giving your perspective on the subject.

Duncan relaxed into his seat a little more as he watched you talking. He knew you had been staring at him, but it was cute, he thought. Almost endearing seeing you get so flustered at just the sight of him. He had seen you squirming around in your seat whilst you watched him and decided the accidental teasing wasn’t enough; he wanted to toy with you more. As much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you’re trying hide what’s happened between us then you might consider making your staring a little less obvious, sweetheart.” He was speaking quietly enough for nobody else to hear and not looking in your direction, pretending to still partake in the tables back-and-forth. Still the fear of your father, who was sat just across the table, overhearing Duncans remarks was petrifying.

You knew you couldn’t let your craving for him and the confusion from not knowing who he was last night effect the meeting, but there he was with that nickname again, stirring your desire even further.

“How are you even here?” You let your frustrations out onto him as you talked back, his cocky attitude getting to you too easily with the stress you were under. “I’m trying so hard not to ruin today and this situation isn’t helping! They’ll fire me if I mess this up and I’ll be fucked! Which surprisingly, I’d prefer not to be!” Your whispering was pretty aggressive, but could you really blame yourself?! This kind of coincidence was rare, so you had every right to be mad at the universe for letting it occur on today of all days.

His ego not faltering for even a second, he chuckled. “Oh you don’t wanna get fucked? Funny, because I remember you saying the exact opposite last night.”

He grazed his hand across your inner thigh, massaging it gently before diving underneath the little black pencil skirt you were wearing to grip onto your flushed skin.

You scoffed at his words and looked up at him, shocked at how bold he was being and expecting some kind of response from him, but he didn’t even look your way. You assumed this was so no attention was brought to the two of you and so you followed his lead, turning away from him just as fast as you had looked.

With the heat of your cunt having grown far too intense to bear, any friction that wasn’t your own thighs pressing up against each other was to be welcomed. So you decided not to stop him. In fact you did the exact opposite, spreading your thighs wider for him, not having the self control or restraint to keep yourself from him any longer.

His hand moved closer to where you needed him most, diving under the crotch of your underwear to swipe his fingers over your slick folds and immediately begin rubbing circles onto your neglected clit.

You stifled a moan, leaning onto the table on front of you to keep yourself steady as he touched you. Finally, he moved his gaze to rest on you, watching you as you struggled to stay silent. He whispered once more, “Always so wet for me, aren't you princess?”

●●●●●●●●

As soon as you entered the suite, Duncan gripped onto your waist, pushing you up against the door and cradling your cheek with his spare hand before smashing his lips into yours.

His tongue slipped past your lips, dancing with yours whilst he moved his hands all over your body, clutching onto your breasts and then moving them down to explore the rest of you.

He lifted your dress up just enough so he could grip your ass. Pulling you closer to him and making you feel his bulge against your hips, you were too short in comparison to him to feel him where you wanted to most.

He spoke to you in kisses, telling you of how ravenous he was for you and that he was going to savour every moment. He moved his lips down, trailing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your breasts.

“This fucking dress” He took ahold of the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your head with urgency as you lifted your arms to better help him strip you. Throwing the dress down onto the floor and hearing it land somewhere behind him, he admired your body and it’s curves.

“The perfect wrapping for such an enticing present.” He finished his sentence. Immediately grabbing at your breasts, sucking and kissing them.

You couldn’t speak, too enthralled with the technique of his tongue swirling around your nipple to do anything but moan in response to him.

You threw your head back against the door, staring up that the beautifully patterned ceiling in pure ecstasy. You felt him drag a callused hand down to the waistband of your Lacy white panties, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach as he traced his fingers over it. His finger tips running across the little white bow that centred the waistband.

He collapsed down to his knees, yanking the delicate lingerie as he fell, leaving it to puddle around your ankles.

He teased your heat, moving from kissing the skin of your thighs to your folds, but not yet reaching the lengths you wanted him to, only adding fuel to the fire in between your legs.

“Please Duncan-” you begged him, desperately needing some kind of release from the binds of lust he had managed to wrap you in over the past 45 minutes.

“Ah ah, don't you remember? You don’t get to call me that.” He spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd.” You corrected yourself, recalling the conversation you had with him prior to coming upstairs.

“Mhmm, now as magnificent as that name sounds coming from you, I know that there’s something else you’d rather call me.” He hummed in disapproval, calmly redirecting your choice of name for him and reassuringly pressing his lips onto your clit.

You let out a stuttered gasp, you did want to call him that, but now you felt nervous due to the build up he had created.

“Com’n, sweetheart. Do you think I don't know why you’re here in the first place? Why else would you be sat all alone in the bar of a hotel you weren’t even staying at? You’re just another slut with daddy issues, sneaking down to an expensive hotel to scavenge for any man good enough to fuck you into submission. Isn’t that right?”

Mildly insulted at his all too accurate observation of you, but enjoying the effect his degrading words have on you none the less, you gave him what he wanted. “Mm yes daddy!” You whimpered out, admitting your ploy to him.

A low rumble emitted from his chest, your words setting off some kind of animal inside him. He dove his face down into your pussy, starting by sucking on your clit gently, flicking his tongue over it and applying more and more pressure as you writhed above him.

His mouth was closed around you now, his grey, speckled stubble scratching your already inflamed skin. You were taken aback by his skills, intwining your fingers through the curls in his hair and tugging on them with every wave of pleasure that hit you.

He snaked his large hand around your thigh, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder while he ate you out. Enjoying the new angle he was utilising, he hummed, sending vibrations through your nerves up to the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Mmh.. fuck daddy, i’m gonna cum!” He didn’t let off, his tongue perhaps fucking into you even faster since you told him how close you were. You locked stares as your orgasm took over your body, your lips forming an o as you screwed your eyebrows together in rapture.

He came back up, letting you taste yourself and he placed his lips on yours again. You eased into the kiss, a relaxed haze having taken over your body in your post-orgasm state. Feeling a slight breeze flow up the side of your form, you realised that Duncan still had all his clothes on whilst you had none. Deciding you needed to change this as soon as possible, you began unbuttoning his suit’s matching black blazer and shirt, rushing to feel his skin on yours.

He helped you, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as you began to unthread his leather belt from the loops of his trousers. “You’re so impatient, little one.” He spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” You smirked, dropping the belt at his feet.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor you reached up, gliding your hands across the expanse of his bear chest, taking notice of how small your hands appeared in comparison to him. He watched you, relishing in the glimmer of entrancement that shone through your eyes as you ingested him.

He lifted you, his strong arms carrying you bridal style towards the king sized bed and throwing you down onto its crisp, satin sheets. Grabbing your ankles, he dragged you down the bed towards him and finished taking his pants off. His cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, smacking against his stomach.

He clambered onto the bed, resting on his knees as he jerked himself in his hand, reluctantly groaning out at the first contact his neglected cock had received all night. His pressing cock had made it unfathomably hard not to just fuck you up against the door when he saw that sweet little way in which your face scrunched up as you came.

You were practically drooling, watching him fuck himself into his fist as his eyes scanned across your naked body. Not being able to wait any longer and wanting to finally feel his cock on your skin, you sat up slightly and reached out to touch him. But before you got the chance, he shoved you back down. leaning over you, he held your wrists down against the pillows with one hand and wrapped his other around your delicate throat.

“So greedy, baby” he stoked his thumb over the skin of your neck as he made his observation, watching you struggle underneath him.

“I just know what I want.” You toyed, your voiced coming out slightly muffled with the pressure of his large hand covering your voice box.

“Such an attitude, too.” His cock brushes over your cunt as he sways his head from side to side in disappointment and disproval. “Now sweetheart, you’re gonna stay exactly where you are and daddy’s gonna fuck you just like this, okay? So he can see that pretty little face of yours.”

You gulp at his words, anticipating the feeling of having him inside you. “Please just fuck me. Please.” You knew you sounded absolutely pathetic, but you didn’t care. Just needing him plummeting in and out of you as soon as possible.

He chuckled at your neediness. Taking his hands back from your wrists and grasping his cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, he let you adjust to his size.

Moaning out, you dug your nails into the bed sheets, watching his head drop down to yours as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

●●●●●●●●

He slipped his ringed finger into you, pushing against your spongy walls whilst you made a desperate attempt to suppress your moans. You bite down onto your nails, your elbow resting on the table as you put all your weight onto it for some kind of crutch.

He began with a slow pace, making sure you would feel every little movement he made. You heard him join into the conversation once again, mentioning something about an article he had seen from the Herald last month which had impressed him. You weren't even sure. You couldn't think for the pulsing beat of your own heart that filled your ears.

“You all right there, Y/N?” Your heavy breathing must have been a dead give away for something being up, being your father was now questioning you.

You felt Duncan stop his movements momentarily, joining the rest of the table in their standstill, staring at you as they awaited a reply, but his little act of sincerity didn't last too long.

“Yeah, uhm-“ you felt him slide a 2nd figure in, making you fake a cough as to stop the cry desperately trying to escape your throat from doing so.

“Yeah, I’m uh, just thirsty.” Hoping this would ward off the worried looks you were receiving, you were shocked when you heard Duncan chime in. “Oh don’t worry, we can get you something.”

He called the waiter over, asking him for a pitcher of lemonade and thanking him as he walked away, back towards the kitchen. You would have preferred some water, you thought, but you were far too focused on what was going on underneath the table to say anything.

“Now, where were we?” Seth began talking once more, bringing the attention back to where it should be. But Duncan? No. His attention stayed on you. Even more focused on fucking his fingers into than before, he sped up and began going even deeper now, curling them upwards until you were twitching.

You looked up at him pleadingly. You were getting too close to cumming for your own liking, so you grabbed onto his thigh and dug your nails into his expensive black dress pants, warning him. He shot you a devious grin, scissoring his fingers inside you and pressing his thumb down to rub sweet circles on your hooded clit, letting you know he didn’t intend on stopping.

He looked behind you suddenly. Following his gaze, you snapped your head to the side, trying to get a good look at what had grabbed his attention so abruptly.

It was the waiter. He had arrived with the pitcher of lemonade in hand and yet Duncan was still plummeting his hand into your pussy with such a speed you began to wonder if someone had actually noticed what was truly going on. I mean the waiter must know.

At this point you had let far too many questionable gasps leave your mouth, your breathing had become even more erratic as you grew closer to your orgasm. He knew you were about to break before he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you, wiping the juices that coated them back and front onto your skirt so he could pick up the glass on front of you, leaving you unsatisfied.

You scrambled to collect your thoughts and breath as he picked up the pitcher, pouring the ice cooled lemonade into your glass.

“Here.” He spoke. You lifted a shaky hand up to take the glass from him when the grasp he had on it ‘slipped’, spilling the contents of it the onto your lap.

“Oh!’ You jumped up, making the sweet, sticky liquid run off your skirt to your thighs, dripping down your legs and eventually onto the floor. The now empty glass falling with it.

“I am so sorry, Miss Y/L/N.” He picked up the glass, sitting it on the table before joining you in standing. Now he was stood, you could clearly see the dark tint of his cock straining against the constrictive fabric that was his dress pants. It sent a pulse of lust through your cunt.

“Duncan!” Hearing Annette voice her annoyance at her son for being so clumsy almost made you laugh. It was quite amusing seeing his mother reprimand him, being he was a grown man in his 40s.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I-I’ll just go clean myself up in the bathroom. I don’t want to distract the meeting anymore than I already have.” You made eye contact with your father as he rubbed his temples.

He was annoyed at the scene you and Duncan had caused. You gave him an apologetic look, feeling bad for stressing him out even more than you already had with being late, but knowing it was technically Duncan’s fault and not yours.

“Please, let me help you clean up.” Duncan pushed his chair in, quickly grabbing some napkins off the table and resting his hand on your back to guide you towards the nearest bathroom, walking as fast as your weak legs would let him.

His hand stayed delicately placed on the small of your back, until you were out of the tables sight, at which point he took hold of your arm, clutching it like a vice as he dragged you through the bathroom door.

He locked the door behind him in preparation for what was to come. He needed to make sure nobody would be walking in on what he was about to do to you.

Looking back towards you, satisfied as ever now he had you alone, he waltzed on over, pinning you up against the counter with force. You could smell him on you again, same cologne from the night before. Dior, you guessed.

“You’re not very good at staying quiet, are you, Sweetheart?” He mused, hoisting you up onto the counter and forcefully cradling your face with both hands as he moved to kiss you deeply. His tongue ravenously re-familiarising itself with your mouth.

“You almost got us caught back there.” He spoke in between kisses. “Your poor, naive father, watching you. He was probably wondering why you kept squirming.” He voiced a dark giggle, moving down to suckle on your neck and push your skirt up your thighs.

“I almost got us caught? No. Y-you almost got us caught when you decided putting a second f-FUCK, finger into me whilst I was talking to him was a good idea!” You choked out, doing your best to fight through the pleasure of his lips finally grazing your skin as you watched him pull your panties down and slot them into his pants pocket.

“Awh poor baby. Did you not want your daddy knowing that you’re a greedy little slut for his new boss? Hm?” He admired the blossoming lavender and cherry bruises now forming on your neck as he teased, marvelling at the idea they could be noticed by your father once you finished.

He quickly opened his fly, pulling his dress pants and boxers down just enough that he could pump his cock in his hand. Gripping onto your hips for purchase, his fingers dug into you so viciously you could feel the marks he had left the night before. You knew after this, there would surely be more.

He thrust himself into you, earning a loud wail to fall from your lips. You arched your spine at the feeling of him pounding into you, making your head fall back against the mirror behind you. His hand shot up to the it as he gathered more speed, his pace growing far faster than you had anticipated.

“Was it too much for you? Taking my fingers in your cunt whilst you were trying oh so hard to concentrate? I almost made you cum on front of everyone.” You moaned out at his grotesque words, pulling your head up to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Answer me.” He pulled your chin up back to look at him, still pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping against one another’s felt even louder in the small, tiled bathroom.

“Yes daddy! It was too much for me - AHH!!” You let yourself go limp against the mirror, giving yourself up to him entirely and wanting nothing more than for him to use you like his personal rag doll.

●●●●●●●●

Your throat was growing hoarser with every squeal you made. Duncan had been fucking you ruthlessly for what felt like hours now, constantly changing his pace from calm to aggressive and back again. His lips were mouthing over your peaked nipples, tongue slathering trails of saliva across your skin and teeth scrapping over dozens of tiny goosebumps.

“Such a filthy, fucking whore for me.” Squeezing down on your neck with one hand he uses his other to slap you. His ringed hand coming down across your fleshy cheek with a loud crack.

You gasped out, shocked at this move and feeling reinvigorated by the suddenness of it. His abuse only made you more attracted to him, causing your cunt to puddle its juices around his cock.

Slowing his thrusts down to an almost complete halt, he grabbed your jaw, yanking your mouth open just enough that when he dripped his spit down you could catch it. You moaned at the filth of his actions, tasting the bourbon he had drank earlier at the bar.

Following the thick thread of salvia that connected the two of you to each other, he brought his face back down to yours, bringing your sloppy lips together. Never giving you the chance to close your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Your lips part, foreheads leaning on each other with eyes locked as you scream and moan at his brutal fucking. “Such a good girl.” He praised you.

“Thank you daddy!!” You cry out, feeling tears brimming in your eyes at the deepness of his cock. You knew he was going to be good when he first pushed you up again that door, but this was insane. You had never felt his turned on before. Loving being completely at his mercy, but receiving none.

He pulled out suddenly, wrapping his hands around your stomach and flipping you over to your front. You got the just of what he wanted and clambered onto your hands and knees for him. He pushed his cock back into your folds, hips ricocheting off your ass immediately.

He pulled at your hair, lifting you up to his chest as he gruffed and groaned. He was much larger than you, making it easy for him to pull your head back enough that he could see the expression on your lust enthralled face.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He demands, spanking your ass cheek and twisting your hair around in his hand. His other hand moved to your gaping mouth, pushing two fingers inside so you taste the metallic bite of his silver band.

You gag as he fucks your mouth, mumbling around his fingers in a desperate attempt at begging him to allow you to cum. You were getting so close now. You guys had been going for so long and your impending release wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“Fuckk, don’t worry sweetheart. Daddy’s close too.” He took his fingers out of your mouth, bringing them down to your clit and swiping at it furiously. You could feel your own spit on his fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Ohh Daddy’s gonna come so deep inside you, little one.. would you like that?” His breathes were uneven. Thrusts uncontrolled and sloppy.

“Yes!! Fuck, fuck, FUCK Daddy I’m cumming!!” Your cunt pulsated around his shaft, squeezing his own orgasm out of him even sooner than he expected as you screamed. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears, them having run down your cheekbones and into your agape mouth.

His cum flooded your walls, filling you up with his hips pressed against yours as he enveloped you in an embrace from behind. He uttered out a shudder against your temple, his breathe feeling hot and damp on your skin.

He set you back down on the bed and pulled his softening shaft out of you, moving his large hands back to your hips as your own gave out and fell underneath you, pressing your face into the sheets. You eventually rolled over to lay on your back, wanting to let your aftershocks roll through your quivering limbs more comfortably.

He fell down onto the duvet next to you, propping himself up on his side slightly and pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss on your swollen lips. “You alright? I didn't hurt too bad now, did I?” He stroked your face, words alluring as ever now your resting bare bodies were tangled up together in a complete stand still.

“Nothing that I didn't enjoy, no.” You joked, lightly drawing intricate shapes on his arm with your fingertips, still harnessing the blemishing sting his ring had left under your cheekbone. “I’d say we're pretty well aquatinted now; wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

●●●●●●●

You could feel cool drips of perspiration slipping down your heated skin from your forehead to your collar bones and all you could do was hope they hadn't taken any of the concealer you had applied earlier this morning with them. You had needed to cover the bruise Duncan’s ring had so easily left on your cheek the night before, since you really didn't want your father or anyone else from work seeing it.

Duncan’s cock was curving in all the right places as he hammered into you. His pace and brutality showing you stars. He seemed even more confident than he did yesterday. Having had experience with you, he knew that you could take his most heinous savagery with delight and didn’t hold off one bit.

His huffs and groans were tantalising, growing louder and more uncontrolled as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand squeaked as it fell down the steamed mirror he leant on, leaving the glass behind you and finding its way to your jaw. He brought your face to his own and kissed you, loudly moaning into your open mouth.

You giggled through your mewls. “Mmm.. I thought I was the loud one, daddy.” You were amused that he had been teasing you so adamantly about the volume of your pleasure, when he was now the one making all the noise.

He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you before slamming his hips into you with a thrust so strong it made you practically scream out. “Oh, my apologises, sweetheart.” He smirked as he picked up his pace once more.

You wrapped your hands in his perfectly styled hair. You no longer cared who knew what was really happening in here, the thought didn’t even cross your mind. All you cared for was chasing your high. You rutted your hips on his and took his length entirely, feeling dangerously close to cumming.

“Fuckkk baby, daddy’s gonna cum okay?. Cum with me princess. Fall apart on my cock.” His unfocused thrusts had you coming undone in seconds. You held onto him tight, digging your nails into his shoulders and pulling at his curls as you cried out in ecstasy.

He shot his seed into you, feeling all his pent up frustrations from earlier at the table leave him as he pushed himself deep into your abused cunt. He didn’t even attempt to stifle his moans, too invested in finally receiving his release to realise just how loud he was being.

He rested his forehead on yours, your sweaty skin pressed against each other as you both attempted to catch your breathes after such a quick, ruthless fuck. You started laughing, finding it utterly ridiculous that you had spent the majority of a meeting you had been terrified for, getting fucked by your new boss (and the man you had fucked the night before) in a restaurant bathroom.

He joined in laughing, clearly finding humour within this strange situation too. Interrupting your laugh, he pushed his lips into yours, kissing you as if your lips were some kind of prize. You felt his cock slip from your cunt, his seed immediately spilling from it as you were left with a sudden, empty sensation.

He made quick work of zipping his pants back up and fastening his belt. You tugged your skirt back down to your thighs, being reminded of how Duncan had snatched your panties and stashed them in his pants pocket. You guessed you wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon, which you were okay with, you just hoped nobody saw his remnants leaving you left the bathroom.

You flattened out your skirt and felt the wet sticky lemonade that still coated it. You had completely forgotten to clean it. “Fuck, my skirt's still sticky! Why would you order lemonade?” You whined; still mad he hadn’t just ordered some water.

Awaiting a reply, you turned to check your make up in the mirror. Luckily it was pretty light today, so it still looked good other than the bruise on your cheek now being slightly more obvious than before. What really concerned you was your neck. It was covered in every shade of purple and red you were aware existed. If your father and coworkers didn’t know what was going on from how weird you were being at the table before, or how long it had taken the two of you to finish in the bathroom, or the noises that were emitting from it, they would definitely know after seeing all the claims he had left on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that spilt water would have been a good enough excuse to get you all alone in here.” He chuckled to himself, leaning over to rest his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around your waist as he joked over his mischievousness.

“But we should probably head back out there. I’m sure your father’s going to apprentice the beautiful mosaic I’ve painted across your neck” he kissed the bruises he spoke of as he watched you through the mirror.

You scoffed at him, gifting yourself one last look before completely giving up on finding a way you could make your face and neck appear more presentable for heading back to the table.

Duncan opened the bathroom door, nodding his head towards the hallway and waiting for you to hurry up and join him.

The two of you started walking back, your legs struggling to take your weight with how weak they had become. Your heels clicked along the floor, making you far more aware of how soon you would be sitting back down with everyone from work. Like a clock counting down to all the judgmental stares you would surly be receiving.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor as you took your seat at the table. Seths voice trailed off upon seeing the two of you sit down, leaving you both in the middle of an uncomfortable silence that felt near suffocating.

“What took so long!” You could hear the anger and perhaps embarrassment in Annettes voice as she whispered to Duncan. She looked towards you, glaring and scowling before retiring her vision back to him. She was probably hoping that what she assumed to have occurred hadn’t, but from the marks clearly decorating your neck, she would have known it to be true.

“Oh, we just couldn’t get the lemonade out of her skirt.” He tut as he spoke to his mother, smiling and playing off any obvious suspicions. “I’m sorry, really.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, dripping with a sincerity you knew to be false.

“So what was it we were discussing?” he speaks louder now, addressing the rest of the table.

“Uhh actually, I think we have a deal.” Seth replied, looking over at him and then the rest of the table. You heard your father mutter something in agreement, but it was meek. Quiet. He must have felt the awkward tension too. It was ripe in the air, like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You didn't even want to look at him, knowing If anyone there felt most uncomfortable, it was him.

Saying their goodbyes and finishing up with any last details, everyone stood to shake hands and bid their farewells. You felt your fathers scowl as he came and stood beside you, but you didn't dare look at him. You were too ashamed to face him whilst still with your coworkers.

Duncan walked over to your father, looking more satisfied than ever with his eyes still focused on you as he thanked him for meeting and shook his hand firmly.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Y/L/N.” He let go of your fathers hand only to take a hold of yours. He grasped it delicately, a touch more gentle than he had ever shown you previously. Assuming he was trying you shake it, you were more than surprised when he raised it to his lips, kissing your rosey knuckles; still red from the tight grip you had, had on his hair earlier.

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Y/N.” He graced you with once last signature smirk as he walked away, leaving you with your father who was waiting for an explanation and apology for your disgusting and foolish behaviour.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst way to spend lunch.

Tags: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @ntxoza @angelicmichael @jimmason @michaellangdonstanaccount @blakescoven @7-wonders @ghostangels @fernfiction @brattylovee @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @instincts-baby

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x female reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #house of cards fic #older!duncan #older!duncan shepherd #older!duncan x reader #boss!duncan #boss!duncan shepherd #boss!duncan shepherd x reader #daddy duncan #cody fern #cody fern fic #my writing

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Even His Name - Part 1

Sirius Black x OC

Summary: Friends forever? Maybe. Maybe not.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, slight consent issues, 18+ please due to NSFW content including unprotected* sex. The age of consent in the UK is 16, sorry if that’s not in line with the laws in your own country/state.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

A/N: Looking at this photo, I can kinda see why Ben Barnes got fancast as Sirius Black. This story is non-canon and takes place in my imaginary HP AU with OC, Celeste (meaning celestial or heavenly).

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sirius Black. Even his name was beautiful.

She watched his tall, lean figure approaching as she sat & relaxed against one of the shady trees beside the lake.

She drank in every last detail before he got too close, before her out-and-out staring was noticeable to him.

The lazily slouching but graceful walk, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

The pale, porcelain-like skin, the aristocratic cheekbones, the trendy light scruff of moustache with matching scruff along his jawline, the full sensuous lips, the famed long black wavy hair. And of course, those hypnotic grey eyes, ringed by long dark lashes. Those eyes could change like mercury, from silver to dark pewter within a heartbeat.

As he got got closer, her eyes almost totally closed, but she wasn’t dozing off, it was a ruse to disguise her intense staring. Her eyes continued to eat him up like he was a very large chocolate eclair.

It was Saturday, so no school uniform. Trademark bad-boy attire, then. Her heart sped up at the sight of the scuffed leather biker jacket, the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, distressed jeans & leather work boots. Not properly laced up... of course.

All in black, a living embodiment of his name.

She heaved a long sigh, letting it escape without thought, and her eyes closed fully.

She was aware of a shadow blocking the sunlight falling on her closed eyelids. The sound of somebody settling themselves down next to her, still partly casting a shadow onto her.

Her eyes opened a sliver, and her head rolled to the side towards him of its own accord.

“What’s the big sigh for, Celeste?” in his deep, slightly hoarse, breathy voice. The voice which sent a thousand female hearts beating like drums.

“Sirius.” She sighed again, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re blocking my sun.”

He grinned, chuckling. He gestured to his body with one hand, “This ... masterpiece... of a man joins you for a pleasant interlude by the lake, and all you can say is that I’m blocking your rays?!”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. “Ah c’mon, you know you love me.”

She rolled her head back to its original position. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“And maybe it’ll come true?” he smirked.

“When hell freezes over.”

He leant over, placing his head on her shoulder as he did so, puppy dog eyes in play, complete with pouted bottom lip.

“Now, you know that isn’t true. You’re desperate to get me into the sack.”

“But, Sirius,” she said innocently, “there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for me, what with you and your massive ego already in it.”

His head shot back, his unmistakable & glorious barking laugh issuing forth & attracting the attention of every female within earshot.

“You’re hysterical,” he continued laughing, more quietly. “No, I’m Celeste,” she smirked, throwing her version of his favourite line back at him.

He groaned, “You’d use my own comeback against me? Really?”

“Every time,” she nodded.

He was grinning back at her, when she was suddenly aware of another shadow falling across her. She frowned involuntarily, looking up to see who it was. A tall Ravenclaw girl stood there, confidently smirking down at Sirius. She didn’t spare his current companion even a glance.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly at him. “Thought you’d maybe like to take a walk with me, Siri?” giving him a suggestive sideways look, all the while twirling a strand of her long brown hair round a finger.

Celeste rolled her eyes, smirking & tutting loudly. She muttered, “Pathetic,” under her breath & began to gather her books, getting ready to ‘exit stage left’.

Sirius looked over at her, smiling and laying his hand on her arm, stilling her movement.

He looked up at the other girl. “Sorry, love,” he said with a grin, “spending some one-on-one time with my best girl here.”

She still didn’t look at his ‘best girl’. “Well, why don’t I just join you here while you do that, and then we can go for a walk by ourselves afterwards?”

Sirius looked down, and Celeste knew what was coming next. He’d given her his polite brush-off, now here came the not-so-polite one.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m here with Celeste,” he said, voice harsh, glaring back up at her.

She stopped twirling that lock of hair, recoiling from his glare & tone. “Well, you know, I just thought...”

“You just thought wrong then, didn’t you! Now, run along dear, off you go.” Voice cold, eyes narrowed.

She turned on her heel and scuttled back to her little band of giggling friends. Something told Celeste that her friends wouldn’t be all that sympathetic. If there was one thing almost guaranteed to break up friendship groups, it was who did, or didn’t have, Sirius’ attention.

Celeste laughed, “Lordy, I don’t know how you put up with all that fangirling.... ‘Siri’.” she imitated the girl in a high-pitched tone. “They make me ashamed to be a woman. Don’t they have any self-respect?!”

Sirius laughed, “But Cel, they’re just rightfully worshipping ... this!” Again, one hand gesturing up & down the length of his body.

“What.. a skinny boy?” she questioned, looking him up & down, “Really? What’s the attraction then?” she laughed.

He’d sat up straight as she’d been speaking, faux offended. “Celeste! How could you? Firstly, I am a man, not a boy.”

“Sirius, you’re sixteen. You.. are.. a.. boy!”

“Nah, nah, nah! I.. am.. a.. man!” dramatically emulating her slow delivery before continuing, “And I’m nearly seventeen. Secondly, I am not skinny. I’m tall and athletic.”

“Skinny.”

“Athletic!”

She laughed. “You don’t even play Quidditch any more. So where do you get this ‘athleticism’ from? Running away from Filch and the prefects after a prank?!”

“Thank you for answering your own question!” he said, laughing back at her.

He again leant towards her, eyes boring into hers, changing to dark & stormy mode, lips so close that she felt the little huffs of his breath on her own lips as he spoke.

“Don’t fight it, Cel. Just give in and admit you want me! We’ll head to my dorm right now and spend the entire night together, having hot, sensual, sheet-tangling sex!”

She burst out laughing, turning away momentarily, eager to break the close proximity to him. “The gods love a trier, Sirius. Pity I don’t.” She looked back at him, “And no doubt one of your fangirls is already curled up under your quilt, just waiting on the god that is Sirius Black to arrive and rock her world!!”

“My bed is exclusively reserved for you.”

“OK... curled up in her bed then, waiting on Mr I Never Stay The Night to arrive.”

“You pierce my heart!”

“Sirius, you may be one of my closest friends, but I can honestly say that you, within just the last few weeks, have become a total man-whore. And a barely legal one at that.”

“Celeste!! Just bloody well admit you want me.”

“Can’t that huge ego of yours handle the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who doesn’t drop her panties the second you look at her?!” her laughter pealed out over the surrounding area, catching the attention of and sparking the venomous jealousy of the Sirius Fangirls’ Club.

He also burst out laughing, inciting the Fangirls even more.

“Ah.... Cel, my ego is perpetually the size of a peanut whenever you’re around.” Innocence personified, wide grey eyes gazed at her. “It never gets the chance to grow any bigger.”

Then the trademark smirk appeared. “Unlike a certain other part of my anatomy.” One eyebrow quirked up at her, long fingers slinking down onto his jeans zip. She couldn’t stop her eyes following them. His lips slid upwards into a pleased grin.

“Urggghhh!” she groaned, closing her eyes briefly before starting to pack up her stuff. “On that note, I’m off!”

“Awww, don’t go! This was just about to get interesting. You almost agreed to give me a quick blowjob!”

She stood up, brushing grass off her denim cutoffs and slipping on her low wedge sandals. Sirius raked his eyes up and down her figure as she did so.

She leant back down to him, knowing full well that he was getting an eyeful down her tastefully low-cut frilly top. She had on a translucent lacy bra, and she heard his breath catch as soon as he spotted it.

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she said, “Firstly, I don’t give blowjobs to sixteen-year-old skinny boys.” She huffed out a breath onto his earlobe, “And secondly, even if I did, it would.. not.. just be a quickie, darling.”

She pulled back and stood up straight, looking down at Sirius. A deep pink blush was spreading up from his neck over the entirety of his handsome face, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, a glazed look in them.

She grinned, starting to walk away, “Have fun with the fangirls, Sirius!”

He was still staring after her when the first wave of girlies washed over him, clamouring for his attention in various tried, tested and (to him, at that moment) very tedious ways.

They were all to be disappointed. Sirius swatted them off like they were so many irritating mosquitoes, stretching out & lying on his back with his hands crossed under his head, staring up into the blue of the early autumn sky, deep in thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She leisurely strolled back to the castle, sniggering to herself at how easy it had been to wind Sirius up into a tight spring.

Her smirk dropped somewhat though, when she contemplated the bigger picture. What a shitshow.

She was slap-bang in the middle of the biggest cliché the fates had ever created. Best friend really fancies best friend, but won’t admit it in case it either doesn’t work out and/or ruins the friendship. Yeah... that old chestnut.

Sighing, she made her way to the Gryffindor common room, spotting Lily and Mary on their favourite corner sofa. She plopped herself down next to them, instantly becoming enmeshed in the girlie gossip which was currently in progress.

However her mind drifted to the beginning of that school year, their sixth, when she and Sirius had met up again after the summer holidays on the Hogwarts Express. She’d been frankly amazed at the change in him after such a short time.

From awkward, gawky schoolboy to man-god in the space of a couple of months.

She learned from him that he’d run away from Grimmauld Place at the beginning of the holidays and was now living at the Potters’. She was very glad to hear that, knowing what he’d gone through at the hands of his parents. He certainly seemed to be thriving there, having apparently sprouted quite a bit over the summer.

Everything about him suddenly seemed long & slim. Long legs and arms, with big hands and big feet to match. Long slim fingers. Long slim feet & toes which she stared at, fascinated, every time she caught a glimpse of them.

She’d instantly known that their friendship would change in future. She’d never thought of Sirius as anything except a little schoolboy buddy, but over the summer he’d emerged from his post-pubescent chrysalis as a hot, sexy teenager with shoulder-length hair, designer stubble and attitude with a capital A.

He’d always attracted a fair bit of female attention over the years. He’d never really acted on it though, too caught up in Marauders mischief to care.

But holy hell...now? All the girlies were going to go batshit crazy over him.

He’d also - right there on the train no less! - boxed her into a corner and immediately started flirting up a storm, which had mildly terrified her. This was the guy who, only two months before, had been a kind of surrogate brother figure in her life for the previous 5 years.

Now he was making sexual innuendoes and inviting her into his bed every five minutes. She just couldn’t figure out his agenda.

As predicted, at the start of term, the Hogwarts female population - irrespective of year - quickly lined up behind Sirius and adoringly dogged his every footstep. As did a fair proportion of the male population, it has to be said.

Sirius quickly accepted his new-found godlike status & revelled in it. Flirting his way around school and through classes and meals. Getting caught in broom closets, empty classrooms and corridors, snogging for Britain.

It was only 4 weeks into the new term and she already found it all mildly disgusting. Hence she’d decided to knock the flirtatious idiot back down a peg or two every chance she got.

However, his flirting behaviour with her hadn’t dialled back at all, if anything it had increased, and this is what she was pondering on.

Her name was suddenly yelled right into her face. Lily was staring at her as if she was an alien.

“Uh, sorry - what?”

“We’ve been waiting on you to answer Mary’s question, for like, 15 minutes.”

“Oh shut up! I just zoned out for a minute or two.”

Mary sniggered, “And no prizes for guessing who the subject matter of said zoning out was!!”

She sighed. “OK, OK, alright - yes - it was Sirius.”

Scoffing noises from her friends.

“Look - I just can’t get my head round the way he’s still behaving towards me. Flirting & shit.”

She shook her head, and continued, “This was my annoying little ‘school brother’ 3 months ago! So he’s either had a brain meltdown and actually fancies me, or else he’s practicing all that crap on me to then use on his fan girls! And let’s be honest, one reason’s as bad as the other!”

They both exchanged significant looks, grinning at each other.

She huffed, “What’s wrong now?! I’ve just told you what’s on my mind!”

“Can you, hand on heart, swear you don’t fancy the pants off Sirius?” asked Lily.

“Look, I can see why girls find him attractive, yeah. But you’re forgetting that for five years, he was...”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Mary, rolling her eyes, “..your surrogate little brother.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@omgrachwrites

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#sirius black x reader #ben barnes #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #ben barnes as sirius black #sirius black #sirius black fan fic

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definitelynotsuzumi · 3 years

Text

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this.

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.” Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you.

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed.

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast.

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you.

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue.

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground.

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you.

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again.

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass.

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place.

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me.

Your heart was beating fast.

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself.

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #readerinsert #fanfiction #childe x reader #genshin x reader

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shxnnxnchxmbxrs · 3 years

Text

A Ruined Surprise

This was originally part of my domestic Katniss and Peeta post, but I just had to write it!

**************

‘Hey, Babe, can you come here a second?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Katniss flicked the yellowing page, coming to the end of the chapter. She grabbed the bookmark from her thigh, the one Peeta had bought her on his business trip to Austria, and placed it snugly into the spine. She closed the book gently, setting it on the coffee table beside her.

‘What’s up?’

He was stood at the island, recipe book in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. There was a dusting of flour blossoming across his left cheek and a splattering of batter on his white t-shirt.

‘Here, taste this,’ he lifted the spoon up to her mouth.

‘Peeta, this is incredible!’

‘You think?’ He smiled earnestly when she nodded enthusiastically, casting the recipe book aside and running a hand through his hair. ‘I was trying a new glaze for the cheese buns, so I wanted your opinion seen as though you’re the one who eats them all.’

She watched the veins in his hand flex as his fingers shook his blond curls, his pale arm hair catching the light from the kitchen window. His eyelashes were long as he blinked, and his smile was slightly crooked, but it was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. She was transfixed by the vibrancy of his eyes, the same hue as the bluest ocean or the dreamiest sky. As Katniss looked at Peeta, she realised there was nothing else she wanted more.

And she happened to be feeling particularly brazen.

‘Marry me.’

‘W- What?’

‘You heard me.’ He stared blankly at her, so she decided to try again. ‘Peeta Mellark, will you marry me?’

‘Kat, are you being serious? You sure this isn’t because of my cheese buns?’ His brown was quirked, and he looked somewhat amused.

‘Yes, I’m serious! I love you and I want to marry you!’ she answered with a deadpan expression. His jaunty smile fell into a thin, straight line and his eyebrows seemed to knit themselves together. Her own grin was falling and she could feel her skin turn to goosebumps.

‘I can’t believe you.’

His tone was flat and even, with no hint of expression as he stalked from the room, gliding past her without so much of a glance. She heard his heavy footsteps on the staircase, and the closing of their bedroom door.

She placed her elbows on the counter and buried her face in her hands, the warmth of her blush becoming overwhelming. Her eyes pricked with tears and her throat felt like it was on fire. She traced her eyelashes with her index finger, trying to keep her hand steady and even. She’d gone too far and scared him away.

Her ears spiked at the sound of a door opening, followed by much quieter footsteps this time. Then the kitchen door opened with a deafening creak. She didn’t dare look up, scared of the image she might find in front of her.

She felt him behind her, his soft breath warm against her neck, her hairs standing on edge. He was close enough to hear how loud her heart was thumping in her chest, but yet she still refused to look at him. His hand wound gently around her side, resting on the countertop. She shuddered as he spoke in her ear, the tingling sensation travelling down her back.

‘Open your eyes, sweetheart.’

Katniss was hesitant, but he spoke so gently and so kindly that she dared to peek. In front of her on the granite worktop was a black velvet box. She tried to turn around, but Peeta’s gentle hand on her hip kept her in place.

‘Not yet. Open it.’ His voice was low as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, placing a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

And so she opened it, gingerly and shakily, gasping in awe at the ring she found inside. The central pearl was encompassed by a simple silver band that glinted against the navy velvet cushion.

The box snapped shut and she yelped with surprise, but Peeta’s grip on her waist had loosened, allowing her to turn around. They were so close their noses bumped, and she was almost devastated when he took a slight step away. They looked at each other for a moment before Katniss let out a choked sob, tears finally escaping her grey eyes. Peeta too was wiping tears from his own eyes, before turning his attention to her, gently wiping away a tear and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

His thumb roamed to her jaw, and he pulled her forward for a soft kiss, just barely brushing their lips together before pulling away. He knelt on one knee, stumbling and uneven, which caused Katniss to chuckle despite her throat feeling like it could close up at any given second. He laughed too, taking her left hand and carefully kissing the back of it, before reaching for the velvet box.

‘This isn’t quite how I wanted to do this, you know, Kat. We’d have been at a fancy dinner all dressed up, and we’d have ordered champagne and fancy chocolates and you’d have been polite and said they had nothing on my baking. And then, once you’d complimented me for being the most amazing man in the world and that you could never have anybody better, I’d have proposed.’ She laughed at his jokes through yet another sob, ‘But, you’re notorious for spoiling surprises, so I apologise if this isn’t as perfect as I am.’.

‘Peeta, this is perfect.’

‘It’s actually perfect because it’s you, Katniss. It’s always been you. I have loved you since I was 5 years old, and that love has only grown. I cannot wait for it to grow even further with you as my wife, if you’ll allow it?’

‘I’ll allow it.’

‘Formalities, my dear Katniss.’ She smiled as he feigned a posh accent, before his face dropped again into something completely more serious.

‘Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?’

‘Yes.’

As he reached to pull out the ring she dropped to his level, pulling him into a hurried and passionate kiss. She felt as if her mouth was on fire and that his was the only water that could quell the heat. He quickly began to kiss her back, hands flat on her back, the ring box discarded; they both knew that the ring didn’t matter in this instance anyway.

Peeta instead reached for the box when they broke apart. He slid the ring onto her finger, and allowed her to admire it for a moment before he kissed the back of her hand. They sat on the kitchen floor for some time afterwards, both staring at Katniss’ left hand.

‘I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said, ‘this was probably a lot better anyway, we couldn’t have kissed like that in a restaurant.’

She laughed. ‘No, that’s true. But, seriously, I think that may have been perfect.’

‘It was far from it, sweetheart. I’m covered in flour and some kind of batter for a start, and not to mention that I nearly fell over. There’s only one thing about it that was perfect, and it was the girl who I was proposing too.’

‘Whilst that’s all well and sweet, Peeta, you weren’t the one to propose.’ She smirked at the dumbfounded expression on his face.

‘Yes I totally was, I got down on one knee and everything!’ She tutted as he became exasperated.

‘I asked you to marry me. I proposed.’ She looked at him and smirked, pecking his cheek as he just blinked at her.

‘If that’s the case, then you owe me a ring and a do over because you didn’t even get down on one knee.’

‘Deal.’

#katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark headcanons #everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlark headcannon #everlark drabble #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games

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amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

what I miss most // c.d

cedric diggory x slytherin! reader

warnings: swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: the reader is chosen for triwizard tournament instead of cedric. He helps you with the first task and finds himself at the bottom of the lake.

a/n: thank you to anon for sending this request, I absolutely loved writing this, but I apologize if it’s kind of shit.

tag list: @cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @inglourious-imagines @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @cedricsyellowscarf @coldlilheart @glossierkisscs @hoe4cedricdiggory

word count: 3.9k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“And the Hogwarts champion for the triwizard tournament is.” Dumbledore’s voice booms as the entire student body sits on the edge of their seats waiting patiently as the goblet of fire spews out a sheet of parchment. “Y/n L/n of slytherin!”

The entire house of black and green shouts in excitement as you stand and make your way to the front of the hall, accepting pats on the back and high fives your entire way down.

Cedric Diggory sighs in defeat as your name is called instead of his. He slowly raises his head from his arms to take a look at the girl who would be in the tournament instead of him. He doesn’t know what to expect as he finally finds you in the crowd, but needless to say he’s surprised. Beautiful cascading h/c hair, bright eyes, a playful smirk resting on your face and a loose green tie adorning your neck. He could barely take his eyes off of you as you shake hands with dumbledore and enter the back room, his eyes trailing after you until you’re finally out of his line of view.

“She’s gorgeous.” The hufflepuff sighs, resting his chin on his hand.

“Ced, she took your spot!” Ernie Macmillan calls, shaking his head at the star struck brunette.

“Who cares mate?” Cedric laughs, wrapping an arm around the younger boy with a smirk on his face.

Your confidence seemed to double as you walked up to Dumbledore and shook his hand, but sitting in the waiting room with the other champions grew rather awkward and you knew you’d have to be the first to break the ice.

You turn and wave to the Beauxbatons girl and introduce yourself. Fleur seems happy to have someone to talk to and you eventually pull Viktor into your circle, talking about your schools and your excitement for the tournament. A shuffle of shoes is heard and you turn, expecting Dumbledore, but see Harry Potter’s mop of brown hair and glasses instead.

“Harry what are you doing here?” You question, walking up to the shaky boy and putting a hand on his shoulder. Harry was like a younger brother to you, and you’d grown rather fond of him despite your house.

“I-I don’t know! He just called my name.” He stutters, looking around anxiously and fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t put my name in, I swear!” He rambles on, taking hold of your sweater.

“I believe you Harry, there’s no way you could’ve made it past the age line.” You state, ruffling his hair and sighing.

“You know you should really get this cut.” You laugh, pulling him towards the other champions.

“Really y/n, now?” Harry rolls his eyes, but cracks a smile, allowing himself to be dragged over and introduced.

Days pass and you grow more and more excited for the first task, you get close to the other champions and you have overwhelming support from even peers you’ve never talked to before, but as more people support you, they seem to turn on Harry. Badges with the phrase ‘Potter Stinks.’ And ‘Support y/n the real Hogwarts champion.’ Begin popping up everywhere and despite your pleas for people to take them off more and more people continue.

“Please Draco, I know you don’t like Harry, but I would really appreciate it if you and your friends stopped wearing them.” You try to reason with the young slytherin, but everyday is the same response. “No need to be modest y/n! We all know it’s true!”

You sigh and shake your head turning back to Fleur and her friends as one of them shakes your shoulder. “I think you’ve got yourself an admirer.” She smirks pointing behind you.

“That’s very sweet Claire, but I don’t want to see anymore badg-“

She cuts you off. “Non, no badges, that boy is gazing at you!” She squeals, shifting your body so you’re facing the other direction. Your eyes lock with a pair of grey ones and the owner immediately drops his gaze. Your cheeks flash a light pink as you smile at the adorable boy, but you’re pulled from your little moment by a tapping on your back.

“Um y/n, c-can I talk to you?” Harry’s shy voice calls out. “Read the badge Potter!” Draco’s distinct voice responds as you turn to shush him.

“Of course Harry, lead the way.” You smile.

“Listen I’m sorry about the badges. I’ve told them not to wear them, but” Harry lifts his hand to stop you.

“I know, it’s alright. I just wanted to warn you. The first task is dragons.” He whispers before scurrying off to find his friends.

Nodding your head in disbelief, you run back to Fleur’s group and apologize, telling them you’d be in the library if they needed you.

Dragons. Why did it have to be dragons? You sigh in frustration as you open another book on the fire spewing reptiles, your eyes fighting to stay open. “H-hey, do you need any help?” A low voice wakes you from your half asleep trance and you snap up. “What? Um, yes. Please. What was the question?” You lift your hand to your mouth to block your yawn as the voice comes closer.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother.” A boy comes into view. “Oh, you’re the hufflepuff from the courtyard!” You smile, motioning for him to take a seat next to you. “Yeah that’s me.” He chuckles, placing his book bag down and falling into the chair. “I just noticed you in here and was wondering if you wanted any help?” The hufflepuff sighs, scratching the back of his head in a nervous manner.

“Yeah! I mean that'd be great!” you grin, picking up your pen. “Does the hufflepuff have a name?” You tease, pulling a textbook towards the two of you. “Yeah, Uh- Cedric. Cedric Diggory.” He smiles extending his hand.

“Well Cedric, I’m y/n.” You respond, taking hold of the brunette’s hand. “I know.” He nods before blushing and shaking his head.

“That seemed really creepy, I didn’t mean anything weird.”

You laugh and for a moment Cedric is sure he’s in the presence of an angel. Your face lighting up and the sound of your voice reminded him of something divine, and Merlin did his heart soar.

“Alright Cedric, let’s get down to business.”

You spend the afternoon and most of the evening researching all you could about dragons. You had explained the situation to Cedric to give him a better idea what to look out for and he’s had his nose stuck down a book the whole time looking for the right way to succeed.

“You could try flying?”

“I’m horrid on a broom Ced.”

“Stun it?”

“That’ll only make it angry.”

“Freeze it?”

“It’s a fire breathing reptile Ced.”

“What about a distraction?” Cedric suggests, reading over a line of text.

“It won’t anger the dragon, there shouldn't be any need for fire, you just need to transfigure a distraction.”

Your lips pull into a smirk and you wrap Cedric into a hug.

“That’s brilliant! How did you know Transfiguration is my best class?” You laugh.

“Lucky guess?” Cedric smirks in response, returning the hug with a huge smile.

“You’re the best Cedric, I’ll see you later?” You pack your bag and squeeze the hufflepuff’s shoulder before walking away.

“Yeah, see you later!”

One by one at the sound of the canon the champions before you face their dragons. Sitting in the tent in your sports wear, anxiety floods your veins as the sounds of thrashing mixed with ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the audience ring in your ear and cause your heart to race. Harry does his best to reassure you, but it seems more like a comfort to himself than you. You couldn’t blame the boy, a fourteen year old who had faced Voldemort, a basilisk and now a dragon.

The canon bangs again and someone enters the tent to retrieve you.

“This way please miss l/n.”

You stand and take a deep breath, smiling to Harry before following the man through the curtains.

You begin stretching out your arms and giving yourself a pep talk. You were smart to have taken the time to study dragons, because you didn’t know the first thing about Swedish Short- Snouts before your study day with Cedric.

You begin your walk into the stadium and the rocks begin to come into view.

The chanting of your name is distinctly heard and a silver dragon resting on a stone perch greets you, it’s yellow eyes piercing into your heart like a sword. You swallow and take a deep breath to calm yourself, pulling your wand from your pocket and putting on your brace face.

Students scream as you are finally visible and you can hear bets being made, the dragon stands from the stone and growls.

“Let’s do this.”

You slowly pace towards the dragon as it shoots a flame out towards you. Quickly rolling out of the way, you cast the rock to dog transfiguration on a medium boulder before crouching behind a large rock.

The dragon curiously follows the dog with its eyes before stepping from its nest to follow it, the scraping of chains being your cue to go. The dog begins to run and you quickly sprint in the direction of the eggs, the golden one shining in the centre must be your goal.

As you approach the nest, a brilliant blue flame shoots from beside you, barely missing your body, but burning you down your arm. The dragon begins bounding towards you, and with pain coursing through your left side you scoop up the golden egg and loudly cast the sleeping charm multiple times on the silver beast before it finally falls to your feet in a low slumber.

The stadium erupts in excitement as you walk out with the egg in your arms, as you scan the crowd for your hufflepuff helper. You spot the brunette in the stands and throw him a thumbs up and a huge smile. He grins back at you and mouths congratulations as you are greeted by medical assistance and pulled into the hospital wing.

You’re laid in a white bed as Madame Pomfrey treats your burns. The medicine does cause you to flinch and your arms turns a strange colour, but it does seem to cool after it’s finally wrapped up. You’re about to fall asleep when a flash of red and brown enters your line of sight and begins to chuckle and stutter with a huge smirk.

“Heard you pulled quite a stunt in the arena.” You grin at Harry with a light roll of your eyes.

“It was amazing y/n! You should have seen me fly up and around the Horntail!” Harry gushes, explaining every moment of his first task in great detail. Pomfrey begins bandaging his scratchers as he begins swinging his arm around explaining the great chase.

“And then I flew up and back down right past the dragon’s spines!” He lifts his hand up and drops it back down.

“Then-”

A boy in a yellow tie pulls open the curtains to your bed and steps inside.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” He grins sheepishly, pulling two bouquets of flowers from behind his back.

“Of course not, you don’t mind do you Harry?”

You smirk at the boy and he shakes his head.

“I was just stopping by to drop these off from the judges.” Cedric explains handing a bouquet to you and Harry.

“Great job out there by the way. Both of you.” Cedric compliments, placing the flowers on your bed before stepping back out again.

Months passed and the buzz from the first event had still not diminished, so when the Yule Ball was announced, the entire school went absolutely crazy. People you’d never seen before began confessing their ‘undying love’ for you and asking you to accompany them to the dance. You almost felt bad denying them a date, but the truth was you only had one person in mind who you wanted to take you to the ball, the hufflepuff brunette who had helped you conquer your first task.

Cedric had been planning on asking you to the Yule Ball, but as he watched people swarm you, he lost hope that you’d still be single for the dance. He felt it was rather useless to try, but Harry wasn’t going to allow Cedric to give up.

“She likes roses. Yellow ones with red tips are her favourite. She grows them at home.” The gryffindor shrugs nonchalantly, nudging the hufflepuff in the shoulder.

“Okay?” Cedric shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “She doesn’t have a date you know. She rejected everyone who’s asked.” Harry continues.

“And how is that supposed to make me feel better?” Cedric sighs, poking at his food.

“She’s waiting for you.” The gryffindor finishes, turning over and noticing a sparkle in Cedric’s eyes. “Just thought you’d ought to know.” Harry smirks,standing from the hufflepuff table and wandering over to his.

Cedric made his way to professor Mcgonagall right after that to ask how to transfigure the exact form of those roses and worked at it till he was sure he’d mastered it.

He found you reading on special charms in the library with the girl from Beauxbatons, and taking a deep breath he summoned the flowers from the top of his wand and presented them to you.

“Y/n, I-I know it’s not much, but I was wondering if you would go to the Yule Ball with me?”

He almost toppled over when you jumped up to hug him, he had to pinch himself to make sure this was really happening. That you had actually said yes.

The ball arrived and it was absolutely magical. You and Fleur were gushing over each other’s dresses as Viktor talked to his date and Harry stood awkwardly in the back. Cedric arrived and together you made your way into the ballroom.

You danced for hours, anything from waltzing to just jumping around until you pulled Cedric away from the dance floor and into the courtyard.

“I see you’re wearing my flower, love.” Cedric grins, looking down at you as you swayed in his arms.

“Of course Ced, I love it.” You respond, a smile growing on your face. “I grow these back home, they’re my favourite.” You smirk, pulling the rose from your hair and holding it up to your nose.

“Do you know what they represent Ced?” You raise your eyes to meet Cedric’s dazzling grey ones.

“No I do not, Care to enlighten me?” Cedric grins sheepishly, twirling you in the light snowfall.

“Yellow roses with red tips, mean friendship and-” You pause looking up to the falling snow and back into Cedric’s eyes. “Falling in love.”

Your lips had almost met that night, but the sound of footsteps pulled the two of you apart and the two of you parted not long after.

When the second task arrived you were ready. You had figured out the egg and had given Harry a hint to figure out his as well. You had managed to find a spell on your own to help you in the underwater field, but on the day of the event you couldn’t find Cedric anywhere. No matter where you looked or wandered the boy in that yellow tie was nowhere to be found. Lined up on the wooden deck, you pull yourself together, shaking Cedric from your mind to grab your wand from your jacket pocket and shrugging off your outer layer, leaving you in your bathing suit in the unforgiving winter air.

They sound you to begin and you cast the bubble head charm on yourself before diving into the freezing water. You swam as fast as you could, dodging the grindylow as you made your way through the tall underwater foliage. Wandering further into the dense green, you were sure the water was playing tricks on you because tied to the bottom of the lake was Cedric, still clad in his full uniform. You spot Harry gazing stupidly at the victims and you nudge his shoulder. shooting a spell at the weed tied around Cedric’s leg before tapping your wrist in the universal sign for ‘time.’ You grab around Cedric’s chest and push his head down as you surface through the waves, The brunette’s head popping up as soon as his head breaks through the lake. You gently pull him back to the docks and wrap towels around your arms and his as people flock to you and congratulate you on your victory.

“W-What happened?” Cedric stutters, his teeth chattering like crazy.

“You were at the bottom of the lake Ced. Do you not remember?” You giggle.

“No, I-I just remember being told to go to the office and when I got there, everything went black.” Cedric shivers as you scoot closer beside him.

A line of the poem from the golden egg bounces through your mind.

“We’ve taken what you miss the most.”

Cedric glances at you in confusion, but a smile dawns on your face.

“I missed you the most Ced, that’s why they chose you.” You laugh, wrapping the hufflepuff in a hug as his eyes widen in realization and his cheeks heat up.

The third task arrives and you and Harry are tied for first. The two of you enter the stadium together and stand in front of different entrances to the maze. You nod to Harry, wishing him good luck and he does the same. Dumbledore finishes his speech and the task has begun. You start slowly, walking with slight hesitation as the maze walls swallow you whole. As soon as the cheers of the student body are no longer heard, you pick up the pace, dodging magical creatures and running around blocks and dead ends. You had the feeling you were close when you noticed Viktor prowling in the opposite direction.

“Viktor! The cup’s that way.” You nudge him on the side as in a flash he turns and grabs you by the throat.

“Finally I’ve found you.” He smirks his usual accent disappearing as his glassy eyes look you up and down.

Clouded eyes and a voice that wasn’t his, there was only one explanation. “Let Viktor go!” You squirm in his grip as a devilish smile descends his face as he chokes you out and lifts his wand. “That should be the least of your worries y/n.”

His lips just form a curse when a loud “Stupefy!” Is heard.

Viktor falls back and Harry comes rushing to your aid.

“Are you alright?”

You immediately begin taking deep breaths of air and turning to face Harry.

“The Imperius curse. Someone cursed Viktor.” You mumble in between gasps for air.

Harry helps you up and pulls you forwards through the final part of the maze, finally finding the glowing blue cup.

“Go on, you did save me.” You smile, pushing Harry closer to the cup.

“Nonsense, you were closer. You should have it.” Harry argues, pulling you further up.

“Together?” You grin taking a step closer.

“Together.” Harry agrees.

You reach up to the cup and at the count of three you both place your hands onto the trophy.

The world begins to spin and contort. You begin to feel dizzy as Harry’s shape begins to swirl and his loud breathing is the only thing you hear.

You land on a field and the two of you stand nauseously. You hold your head in your hand as you hear Harry utter the word ‘portkey’ and you turn to access your surroundings.

“It looks like a graveyard.” You sigh, turning back to Harry. “Is this like a joke or somethin-“

“Look out!”

From behind you a hidden figure emerges and pulls out their wand.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Your body seizes up and you fall onto Harry’s chest. “Avada Kedavra!”

“No!” Harry jumps and tumbles down a hill with you in his grasp, running and placing you behind a tombstone to face this opponent.

You can only lay there frozen as Harry screams. The bubbling of a cauldron, cackling, multiple voices, and a hiss of a snake is heard. Your bonds seem to break for a second, perhaps the person had just transferred their wand to someone else. You slowly turn and peak over the grave, a scream of fear nearly leaving your mouth at the sight of Voldemort and his death eaters.

Voldemort begins throwing the gryffindor to the sides like a ragdoll as he begs Harry to duel, Harry tries to counter the killing curse with expelliarmus, a thick veil of light emerges from their wands and soon the two are hidden from view. For agonizing minutes you sit there in fear for your friends life. Hoping and Praying Harry would be alright.

The light disappears and Harry emerges, throwing back the band of death eaters before you stand and run over to him.

“Let’s Go!” You pull the dazed gryffindor from his trance and run towards the portkey as Harry yells spell after spell at the oncoming line of Voldemort’s followers. You quickly clutch onto the handle of the trophy and close your eyes as the world begins to spin again.

All spectators were frozen as Harry Potter and y/n l/n exit the maze screaming bloody murder. “He’s back! Voldemort’s back!” Harry cries, clutching onto Dumbledore and being grabbed by professor Moody. Your voice is quiet and pained as you wrap yourself in a blanket and explain in full detail what happened when that cup turned into a bloody portkey. Dumbledore sat stroking his beard and nodding before quickly walking off to find Harry. You sit and hang your head down, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. In and out, it was going to be okay.

“Y/n, are you alright?” The worried voice of the grey eyed hufflepuff comes crashing through your ear and in a second you had engulfed him in a hug and begun crying into his shoulder.

“H-He’s back. He’s back and I didn’t do anything.” You whimper into Cedric’s scarf.

“Hey, darling look at me.” He tilts your chin up and his voice turns serious.

“Voldemort is a mass murderer. He’s killed almost everyone he's come in contact with. It’s not your fault, love he would have killed you.” Cedric sighs, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“What matters is that you’re back, you’re safe and we’re together.” Cedric smiles, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Congratulations on the win by the way.” Cedric smirks, looking down at you.

“Win? But Harry.”

“He told Dumbledore you were the rightful winner of the cup. It’s already been announced darling. You won.”

Cedric follows his congratulations by pressing an overdue kiss to your lips. Your mouth drops open and a smile widens on your face as you jump up into Cedric’s arms and he spins you around.

“I’m so proud of you, love.” He chuckles, placing you back down again and holding you close.

“Just don’t do that again, alright? You scared me.”

You laugh and begin peppering kisses on Cedric’s warm cheeks as you punch your fist into the air and cheer. You had done it. You survived and conquered the triwizard tournament. Though you had to talk to Harry about splitting the winnings. There was no way he was getting away with this.

#harry potter imagine #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedricsbrowncurls #cedric fluff

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glamorizingchaos · 3 years

Text

Green Ribbons and Silver Pistols

Wild West AU Jack Daniels x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: Some Angst, mentions of guns, mentions of a previous relationship with a women but reader is GN. Please let me know if I missed any!

Summary: After hunting bounties, Jack decides to spend the night in a small town. There he is reminded of the past he's trying to get away from.

A/N: So I wanted to try my hand at a Writer Wednesday! (I know I’m late but let’s pretend it’s Wednesday yeah?) They always sound fun. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in this stuff! I wrote this pretty quickly so sorry if there are any mistakes.

@autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape thank you for cultivating creativity and positivity!!! 💕

Masterlist

Jack’s hands tightened on the worn leather reins; the rough leather cracked from wear and tear. It had been a long few weeks. He could feel the weight of the coin purse tied to his waist as he rode towards the small town. This job was easier than most, he didn’t have to kill anyone this time. The petty robber barely put up a fight when Jack came bursting through the door and dragged his ass down to the local sheriff. Nope, the poor son of a bitch just trudged along behind Jack’s horse with barely a word.

So all things considered it was a good day. He had warm food in his belly and an easy job that gave him just enough silver to last through winter. Yet he still felt the familiar slump in his shoulders. The frown didn’t leave his face. All that coin he earned was from taking non-stop jobs. Anything he could find, any bounty big or small. Anything that pulled him away from home, where everything just reminded him of her. It’s been a year but he still can’t seem to shake her. She chose someone else. She didn’t want you. Move on.

But everywhere he went she was there. He couldn’t get away from her sweet smiles and contagious laughter. So he left. More like fled like a thief in the night, nary a word to anyone. Just a thunder of hoofbeats and a flap of his long dark coat in the cool night air.

The sun started to set and Jack continued west towards a small town to rest for the evening. The comforting lull of his horse's trot brought memories crashing over his senses; The feeling of the warm sun shining on his face, the sound of a soft melody on the breeze, a green ribbon nestled in a bundle of messy chestnut curls. He reached out to wrap a curl around his finger, but they slipped through his fingertips as quickly as the memories came.

Jack shook his head to clear his thoughts. His thoughts turned as cold as the evening air. That was a long time ago. That’s not my life anymore. With a squeeze of his thighs, he was off towards the flickering lights of the town. Away from his past. Far away.

As he strolled through the town he spotted the livery on the south side of the town. Hidden away from the ruckus of the saloons, brothels, and inns. The town is rife with travelers passing through and businessmen hoping to get fat on their coins.

Jack slowly lowered himself from the saddle, his back and legs sore. He paid the stable hand for a night and watched as the boy led his horse to her stall for the night. His horse is the one thing Jack took with him from his old life, he left everything else behind. She was a beautiful, haughty bay with a small white star on her forehead. During the day the sun made her body shine and the dapples that covered her body could be seen. She was clever and fierce, but as loyal as they come (as long as you had plenty of peppermints.)

Jack left the livery with his saddlebags in tow and headed towards the quietest inn he could find.

—

Jack slept well into the early afternoon the next day. Three weeks of non-stop riding, camping, and hunting takes a toll. He wasn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore. He picked up the porcelain pitcher and poured water into its matching basin. He quickly splashed water on his face and neck before leaning over to gather his shave kit. His face was getting a bit too prickly for his liking. So he lathered up the brush with soap and carefully spread it across his face and neck. He methodically dragged the straight razor across his tan skin until he was happy with the results. After he was done, Jack gave himself a good look in the mirror. Even though he slept in the bags under his eyes were still prominent. More wrinkles were forming around his eyes and lines on his forehead. When did I get so old? He thought to himself. With a sigh, he rolled up his shave kit and got dressed.

He stopped at the saloon to scarf down some bacon, eggs, and coffee before going to the general store. The bacon was burnt and the coffee was bitter, but it wasn’t cold canned beans or hardtack so he wasn’t complaining. The owner of the general store was chipper and greeted Jack with exuberance. The man was scrawny and had a bushy grey mustache and matching beard that covered most of his face, and was all too excited to spend Jack’s money.

Eventually, Jack was able to tear himself away from the general store and head over to the livery. He walked in but no one was there and his horse was not in her stall. His hand went to rest on one of his pistols and he quickly moved outside to look around. He soon found her standing tied to the hitching post in the back. They must’ve groomed her for me, Jack rolled his shoulders and stalked over to the horse.

He had expected to see the stable boy tending to his horse but what he found was a little girl, no older than seven, standing on a block braiding his horse's mane. Not only that, she was braiding a bright emerald green ribbon into it.

Jack couldn’t stop the yell before it left his throat. The little girl jumped with a cry and immediately detangled her hands from the mane. “What do you think you’re doing? Where are your parents?” Jack’s tone was harsh. Maybe a bit too harsh. Tears welled up in the girl's big blue eyes and he immediately felt a pang in his chest. It's not her fault. She's just a little girl who saw a pretty horse. “Shhh. I’m sorry for yelling’ darlin’. Where are your folks?” Jack eased his voice back to a soft tone.

Just then the stable boy rounded the corner, he probably heard Jack’s outburst. “Lilliana! You know you ain’t supposed to mess with the horses! Go home.” The boy yelled to the little girl who must be his sister. “NOW.” Jack watched as the little girl skittered off the block and around the barn. “I am so sorry Mister. My sister just likes to play with the horses, I can take that out-”

Jack stops him with a raised hand, “It's fine. I gotta get movin’.” The boy nods his head and rushes off to get Jack’s tack.

—

Jack spent time double-checking the saddlebags and tack before setting off. He reached under and cinched the girth of the saddle, making sure it was secure. He clambered up into the saddle and with a nod to the stable boy he was off.

About a mile out of town Jack’s eyes couldn’t help but wander to the half-finished braid. The emerald ribbon shining in the late afternoon sun against the dark black hair. He reached out with one hand and grabbed the end of the ribbon. He gently rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, he felt the smooth fabric and the coarse hair. He was lost in thought for a moment, just staring at the ribbon, his eyes unfocused and staring through the thin cloth.

Jack was yanked from his thoughts when he heard the cock of a gun behind him. He froze, dropping the ribbon back down to lay on his horse’s neck. He slowly tried to lower his hand down to the rifle attached to the front of his saddle, “Don’t even try it.” The voice behind him was firm and cold.

“Get off the horse. Slowly. Any funny business and there will be lead in between your eyes.” Jack obeyed the order. He raised his hands above his head and clumsily slid out of the saddle. He turned around slowly to face whatever bandit had him at gunpoint. His eyes widened as he saw you standing with a pistol pointed directly at him.

A smirk blossomed on your face, “Hiya handsome.”

Tagslist: @over300books @foli-vora @sharkbait77 @ikinmahlen @lordmotherofcats @mishasminion360 @queridopascal @lich1 @queridopascal @alberta-sunrise @jayda @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @wantingtobekorra @bxxbxy @andruxx @dobbyjen @floraandfrost @cowboy-turtle @nicolethered @mrsparknuts @almaeunice @drinkingwhileblogging @pintsizemama

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!! 💕

#Writer Wednesday #jack daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x gn!reader #jack daniels x you #Jack Daniels fanfiction #Kingsmen golden circle fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #angst #agent whiskey #jack ‘whiskey’ Daniels #agent whiskey fanfiction

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sunflowerstache · 4 years

Text

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.” you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another. “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.

Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]

Warnings: only occasional mild language

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s

if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!

If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).

----

It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.

“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.

“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.

“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”

Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.

A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.

“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.

“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.

“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.

“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.

“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.

“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.

“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.

“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.

The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.

“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.

“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.

They bought it.

Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?

This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.

Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.

“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”

He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”

----

“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”

“Here!”

“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”

“Present.”

“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.

“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”

“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.

“No problem, whatsoever!”

----

A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.

“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.

“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.

“How do you feel?”

“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.

“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.

“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”

“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.

“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”

George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.

“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.

“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”

Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.

“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”

Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”

----

“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.

“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”

“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”

“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.

“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.

“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”

“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.

“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”

“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.

“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.

“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.

“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”

----

Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.

After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.

You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”

Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.

----

The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.

“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.

“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.

“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.

“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”

“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”

“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.

“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.

“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.

“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”

“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.

She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.

“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”

The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.

The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.

“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”

“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.

“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.

“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.

“Call me sir, goddammit!”

“Yes sir!”

----

“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.

A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”

George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”

“Impossible. You’re doing great.”

The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”

“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”

Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”

“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.

“Talk.”

“You!”

“Talk.”

“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.

“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.

He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”

Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.

“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.

“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.

“Where’s your brain?”

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Where’s your brain?”

“I asked you first!”

“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.

“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.

“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”

“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.

“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”

“No�� I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.

“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”

“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”

“You serious?”

Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.

“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”

----

Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.

“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.

“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”

“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.

“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”

“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.

“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.

“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.

“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”

“It’s not a piece of scrap.”

Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.

“He knows the mileage, Fred.”

“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.

“How?”

“We’ll drive home backwards.”

“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.

“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.

With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.

----

“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”

The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.

You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.

“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.

“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.

The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.

A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.

“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.

“I guess that’s my dad.”

You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”

A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.

Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.

“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.

“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.

“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.

Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”

“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.

“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”

“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.

If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.

And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.

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