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racingliners · 1 year ago

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Life In The Fast Lane - Chapter 14: 2023 Race 11 Hungary

Rating: Teen & Up

Warnings: None apply

Pairings: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s); OFCs & OMCs

Work Tags: Re-write of a previous work; not beta read; dual/multiple pov; mentions of IRL current and past F1 figures; Eventual romance; friends to lovers; found family/work family; actual family; occasional swearing; racing drivers and their various shenanigans; how to handle pressure (and how not to); with a sprinkling of the power of friendship; tags will be updated as work progresses

Chapter 14/57 Word count: 7.3k Summary: You never forget your first

Friday 28th July – Hungaroring, Budapest

Martin never had his eyes or heart set on management when he joined McLaren all those years ago. He’d started out as a press officer, which granted did require good people skills. When he’d been promoted to Head of Communications, it meant interacting with more of the then-management – and he’d unintentionally impressed them all. When it had been put to Martin that the board had him in mind for the team principle position, he had done everything he could to bolster his knowledge of the other departments. He had lunch with mechanics, sat in on engineer’s meetings, he’d even gone to the wind tunnel on more than one occasion to see how R&D worked in person.

It meant that he was prepared as he could be when he’d been promoted to team principal over six years ago. It had been quite the challenge to manage a championship winning season in his very first year – but the same thing was said for Nathan who was in his rookie season. And they won both titles that year.

Though, as it was said by so many in the paddock, in F1 you learn more when you lose as opposed to when you win. Which was why this season in particular was proving to be Martin’s most challenging by far.

Team morale fluctuated with the pace of the car – which seemed to change every weekend. Sophie’s podium hadn’t quite been a false dawn, if anything it proved to everyone that they could achieve success if everything fell into place. But luck was always so difficult to find in motorsport.

Martin found himself sat in-between Edward Morden and Charlotte Stewart from Mercedes in the Team Principle’s press conference on Friday afternoon, about an hour after the end of FP2. Edward was smug following both Schmitz’s win in Germany two weeks ago, and with Red Bull’s pace in both practice sessions. Charlotte by contrast was playing her cards very close to her chest – even though every other team in the paddock had ran the numbers and knew that Mercedes were at worst going to be on par with Red Bull over one lap and in the race.

“Question for Martin,” An advantage of being a former press officer was that journalists, no matter how hard they tried, never phased him – as one of the writers from the BBC asked the first question from the floor. “McLaren’s pace has looked the best it has in practice probably for the first time since China. Do you think the upgrades you introduced in Germany have paid off? Or is it because James and Sophie are both very familiar with the Hungaroring and know how to get the most out of it?”

“Truthfully, I think it’s a combination of both. James won here last year, as did Sophie in both F2 races. But also the data we got from the last race in Germany was very promising. Even though it was a wet race, we could still see some good gains in our performance. And coming into this weekend we knew that this track would be much better for us.”

In both practice sessions the team hadn’t just managed to get both cars into the top ten, but James and Sophie had one top five lap time apiece between them – and the engineers knew there were still potential gains on the table. Though it was starting to look like that their race pace was going to be much closer to the cars ahead compared to their quali runs. More than a few things would have to fall into McLaren’s favour if they wanted to think about a race win.

“Even if you do get one or both cars on the podium come Sunday, is it not just a sticking plaster for what has been by your own admission a very unsuccessful season by McLaren’s standards?” The next journalist asked. Martin hummed, and very carefully thought out and picked his words.

“Well, we’ve all said multiple times that this isn’t where we want to be. We want to be in the fight for the championship. And we have gone a bit wrong in terms of our car design, though we still have positives over our rivals that are still working well for us. But in a season like this you can’t think about how you would like your results to be, you have to ensure that you and the team are taking the maximum potential out of every single race weekend. At one race that might be fifth, at the next it could be a race win or podium finish. And you have to also ensure that you are there to capitalise on the cars around you making mistakes,” He paused to clasp his hands on the table in front of him.

“Every single person inside the garage and back at Woking is working incredibly hard to deliver the best results we can. And we also have a fantastic driver line-up with James and Sophie, who have been working brilliantly together and bringing home some great points for the constructors championship when they’ve had the opportunity. As long as we learn something from every weekend to carry us forward, then that to me right now is all that matters.”

It wasn’t quite the answer the journalist had wanted, and it also wasn’t quite what the board would have wanted him to say – which meant it was the absolute best answer Martin could give.

Once the press conference was finally over, he and Charlotte quickly made small talk before wishing each other well for the weekend. And as he walked back into the paddock with Katie, he put on a brave face for all to see. McLaren might be down on form, but they certainly hadn’t lost their ability to fight.

Saturday 29th July

“Come on…” Sophie groaned, her eyes fixed on one of the many TV screens broadcasting the F2 sprint race. “Come on, come on, come on,” She repeated under her breath, on the off-chance it would somehow will Julian on to hold on to third place, and get his first podium of the season.

Julian’s parents hadn’t been able to get the time off to fly out to Hungary, so Mark and Mary had gone down to the support paddock in their place, proudly fulfilling their Aunt and Uncle duties. It meant that Sophie had been alone at a table in the motorhome for the start of the race, though her loud cheer when Julian passed two cars on the first lap had caught Richard’s attention and he’d ended up joining her.

“Who’s leading?” A voice, Chris’ Sophie recognised after a second, asked as he leaned against the table. Sophie let out a small groan in reply, her eyes too closely fixed on the running order on the side of the screen as the cameras cut away to one of the bright red Premas. She had went from watching sat down to being stood up perched against the table about two laps into the race.

“Virtanen, there’s eight laps left,” Richard said quietly, not that there was any commentary for Sophie to listen to. He didn’t say anything about Julian’s potential maiden podium, either because Chris already knew or because it was clear to both of them that Sophie was far more stressed than she should have been in the hours leading up to qualifying.

So instead of sitting down, Chris perched himself on the edge pf the table next to Sophie and placed a firm but reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Which car is Julian in?”

“22.” Richard replied, joining his colleagues. He silently put an arm around Sophie’s shoulders while she continued to gnaw on her thumbnail.

Vanessa really had timed her phone call home at the worst possible moment. And Will was somewhere trackside taking pictures.

The laps trickled away, and at some point someone put two and two together and unmuted the TV as Heikki Virtanen started the last lap. Word must have gotten out that Julian was doing well, as a few people from PR had joined the gathering, alongside Aditya and Luke. Sophie found herself filled with familiar agony as her eyes continued to be glued to the timing intervals on the side of the screen, though she had never felt this bad watching Julian race before. Sophie briefly wondered if this was how her parents had felt every race day for the past sixteen years, and made a mental note to apologise.

As Virtanen crossed the finish line in first, the camera hung around long enough to see the second placed car, before immediately cutting to Julian’s navy blue Carlin as he meandered round the final few corners. Fourth place was seven tenths back. All Julian had to do was hold his nerve and he’d be on the podium.

It felt like everything happened at double speed. Julian brushed his car a little too close to the barrier at the final corner before he gently straightened the steering and accelerated down the start-finish straight, and was the third car to see the chequered flag.

Polite applause filled the air as Sophie let out a loud and completely undignified cheer before a few stray tears fell down her face as Richard and Chris squeezed her on both sides.

“I need to get to the support paddock, I have to see him.” The words flew out of Sophie’s mouth as she looked up at Richard. Out of the corner of her eye should could see Chris and Luke fixing Richard with a firm stare that said ‘Don’t you dare say no’.

“If we make a run for it we’ll catch the podium,” Richard said firmly, and turned towards the stairs.

“Tell Vanessa where I’ve gone!” Sophie shouted over her shoulder in the hope that someone would hear and she skipped down the silver steps after Richard and practically ran out the main doors, with a few people shouting congratulations after her.

They dashed into the pitlane, and not the support paddock. As the Hungaroring was so small that all the support categories and F1 had their ceremonies on the same podium. Richard stayed put in scrutineering while Sophie flashed her paddock pass at one of the marshals who let her into parc fermé. She instantly recognised her mechanics from last year and they all clapped each other on the back and shoulders as Sophie squeezed through the crowd to find her parents. She finally found them at the very front, pressed up against the barrier.

Eventually, the number 22 Carlin came into view, and Julian bounded out of the car the second he parked it at an alarming rate, making a beeline for his family. He threw his arms round Mark and Mary, both of whom were quite weepy, before he pulled Sophie into a near bone crushing hug.

“You fucking smashed it!!” She exclaimed as she patted her cousin’s black and chrome silver helmet. “I am so proud of you.”

“No pressure for tomorrow!” Julian was likely grinning under his helmet. Sophie just playfully screwed up her face as her cousin made his way round to see all of his mechanics before he had to almost be dragged over for his post-race interview.

Sophie took as many pictures and videos as she could of the podium ceremony, and she even managed to collect a few stray pieces of confetti which she stuffed into her pocket. They had just enough time to squeeze in a family picture with Julian and his trophy before Sophie had to go back to the motorhome to get ready for qualifying.

“Great job James!” It had been so long since Paul had something to cheer for that James almost didn’t believe just how delighted his race engineer sounded. “That is P6, we did just miss out on P5 by a couple of hundredths, but we know there’s pace in the car for tomorrow.”

“Good work everyone!” James replied, equal parts annoyed to miss out on a top five start by such a small margin, and relieved that he was at least within striking distance. “Where’s Sophie?”

“P4, about nine hundredths ahead.”

It had been the story for most of the weekend. Apart from FP1, Sophie had been faster than James in every single session. But at least they had managed to get both cars in the top ten for the second qualifying running. His disappointment about not being the lead car aside, it had been a good day for the team.

As he and Katie walked into the press pen, James realised that his shoulders hadn’t felt this light since Monaco. And all the journalists seemed to notice just how happy both McLaren drivers were with their performance. But, as they’d been told to by their press officers, they played down just how far up they could finish tomorrow. Even if McLaren and everyone else knew that their long run pace on Friday had been up there with Red Bull and Mercedes.

“How have you managed such a quick turn around?” James was asked in his final interview of the day.

“Well…” He huffed as he saw Sophie and Richard leave out of the corner of his eye. “Our upgrades in Germany have definitely helped, but I think it’s also that we were able to find the car’s performance window this week, which we’ve really struggled to do for most of the season. I think Martin said it quite well in that when these weekends happen, we have to do everything possible to capitalise on it. Hopefully one of us will be on the podium tomorrow.”

And as much as James liked Sophie, he wanted it to be him. Winning in Brazil last year felt so, so long ago. And while he had been putting his experience to good use in trying everything to help the team turn their fortunes around, he really wanted to get at least one trophy this year to show for it.

After a quick shower in the motorhome, James got changed and sprinted across the tarmac in the hope he would avoid any journalists as he went over to the engineering trucks for the post-quali debrief.

It was amazing what one decent session had done for morale. All the mechanics back in the garage had been beaming at the end of the session, and while most of the engineers already had their heads down looking at their laptops, those that weren’t all had smiles on their faces.

“Good job today Soph!” James called out as he made his way over to his seat. Sophie looked up, having been in deep conversation with Chris.

“Cheers, you too!” She grinned back, and the two team mates leaned over the tables to bump fists before sitting back down.

Chris and Sophie and resumed having their heads huddled together as they conversed and scribbled into their notebooks, the pair of them really were becoming quite the professional partnership. Eventually, once they were seemingly happy, Sophie dropped her pen on the desk and stretched out her fingers, her hand apparently cramped from all the writing.

“My God,” Paul mock gawked as he entered the room and walked over towards his driver with a steaming mug of tea. “You’re early”.

James rolled his eyes. Even in his title winning year he was never early for debriefs. Almost always on time and no more.

“First time for everything” James flashed a small smile as Paul sat down next to him and put on his radio headset.

Martin was the last to arrive, having not been so lucky in avoiding journalists on the way over.

“Alright everyone, all in all, given the car we have that was a brilliant qualifying session by everyone. Sophie, I promise to be the last person today to congratulate you on being the first female driver to qualify in the top five,” There was a pause as a few chuckles ran round the room, and through the headsets back at Woking.

“Thank you Martin.” James didn’t need to look to see that Sophie was blushing as Chris and Gary clapped her on the shoulder.

“But, while we are going to run simulations overnight, we know that we’re faster than Ferrari and almost on par with Red Bull and Mercedes on long run pace… there is a very good chance that we will be in contention for at least a podium tomorrow. Leena and Amir, why don’t you talk us through what the initial plan is for the race…”

Sunday 30th July

“So, you remember the strategy?” Chris asked once Sophie had jumped out of the car. It felt odd being back on the second row of the grid after so long, but she tried her best to just acknowledge it and move on. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in the occasion, not today. Not when a chance to be up on the podium again was there for the taking.

“Yeah,” Sophie nodded, and stepped in closer to her engineer in case there were any journalists floating around trying to listen in. “First stop for mediums. Then softs plan A and supers plan B to the end.”

“And don’t sing happy birthday to me on the formation lap okay? You’ve got a podium to get.”

“Okay…” Sophie playfully screwed up her face at Chris, who after the final briefing session had been presented with a very beautiful chocolate cake covered in fresh fruit in honour of his 38th birthday.

She knew that Chris just wanted Sophie to be completely focused on jumping cars at the start, since it was so hard to overtake around the Hungaroring. And she had no intention of doing anything else. Sophie just wanted to do something nice for her team mate, after all the hard work he’d done so far this year.

They spent as much time as they could talking about the track conditions, and any potential set-up tweaks Sophie would want or need, before she had to stand at the front of the grid for the national anthem. Her and Nico just about managed to squeeze in a good luck hug in which he told his friend to get at least on the podium, before he made the mad dash down to his slot in twelfth.

Could she win today? No one was really a hundred percent sure. The team’s aim was to simply get both cars as high up the order as possible. Not many race simulations had McLaren finishing on top as Martin would have liked. Sophie had to make gains at the start, as well as hopefully passing the surrounding cars either at the pit stops or on track, for there to be a chance of the team pulling it off.

Though some pundits, did have McLaren as optimistic outsiders.

Sophie and Vanessa bumped fists as the car was lowered onto the ground, and Steve did his now traditional pat of the car’s nosecone before everyone ran to the sides of the track, as the grid pulled away for the formation lap.

Remember to watch Carotti at the start. Chris’ words played back in Sophie’s mind as she exited the final corner, and slowly pulled up into her slot on the grid. She quickly glanced at the bright red Ferrari adjacent to her, and Benedikt’s dark blue Red Bull in front.

You’ve done this before, just keep it clean going into turn one. Sophie told herself, as the five red start lights illuminated one by one.

As soon as the lights went out, she released the clutch and pressed firmly on the accelerator pedal. Herself and the top three had all made good starts as they headed for turn one, and all four of them broke for the corner in quick succession, with Sophie being the last in the hope of taking Giovanni’s place. And while Sophie neatly clipped the apex, the red Ferrari was still alongside her as they made the approach for turn two. Sophie was forced to take the outside line, but she held firm knowing that it would become the inside for turn three if she had enough of her car ahead.

So she broke slightly later again, and swept her McLaren round the curve of turn two far enough that her front axle was in line with Carotti’s front wing, allowing Sophie to come out of turn three on the racing line – and in third place.

“Yes!” She hissed inside her helmet, and quickly switched her focus to Benedikt who hadn’t completely shot off down the track as he pursued Nathan’s Mercedes.

“Great job Sophie, we are racing the cars ahead, just keep your head down.” Chris as ever was almost icy cool over the radio as Sophie drove through the second sector. “Excellent pass at turn two.” Though it wasn’t hard to hear his smile from the cockpit.

“Let’s get this podium!” She radioed back before braking for the sequence of last three corners that led back onto the start-finish straight.

The first stint of the race was always going to be a case of each team holding their nerve to see who would pit first. That, and the super softs weren’t predicted to have a great performance window given the hot weather, so all each pit wall could do was tell their driver to keep going either until a gap in the traffic appeared, or one of them blinked first.

From Sophie’s perspective, the car had felt the best it had all season. Just like in practice she was able to carry better speed through the corners than the cars around her. She didn’t know if it would be enough to win, but she was damn well going to try.

“Okay Soph, box opposite Schmitz. Box opposite Schmitz.” Chris radioed in at the start of lap 18.

“Copy.” Benedikt’s Red Bull was barely two seconds ahead of her, he had been faster on the super soft tyres but not by much. Their lap times had only been a tenth or two within each other.

Sophie pushed a little bit harder round the track in case it ended up being her in lap, and she closed the gap to Benedikt by a few tenths, and when she saw him speed out of turn 13 and stay on the racing line, she veered right when she made her way out of the same corner and dived into the pits. The pit crew had been ready and waiting with a new set of mediums just in case. And it felt like a near-perfect stop as the red-banded tyres were swapped for white, and Sophie barely had time to peel off one of her visor tare-offs before she was away again.

“Okay, out lap is critical. Let’s get him.” It was a safe assumption that Red Bull would pit Ben on the next lap to cover her stop, so Sophie was more than a little annoyed when she saw two cars on her left as she came out the pits. Thankfully she managed to out brake them for turn one and found herself out in clean air as she pushed hard to both get the tyres up to temperature, and hopefully make up the time difference to jump Benedikt whenever he stopped.

“Schmitz is in,” Chris radioed again as Sophie drove out of turn 12. “Give it everything you’ve got.”

She attacked the final sector as if it was a quali run, and while a small part of her worried about what tyre life she would have at the end of her stint, Sophie hoped that it had been enough as she accelerated down the main straight to start lap 20.

“You got him! We are net P2, Watkins is still to stop.” As Sophie accelerated out of turn 1, she could just about see the navy blue Red Bull in her mirrors.

Nathan retained the lead once the rest of the top ten had made their first stops, with Sophie holding strong in second and Benedikt in third. James had gotten up to fourth by lap 25, and both McLaren’s were running well on the mediums. They weren’t faster than the Red Bull and Mercedes around them, but they were matching them. Which for now was enough.

For every lap time Chris asked for, Sophie delivered. And she found herself in a sort of no-man’s land with Nathan four seconds up the road and Benedikt five seconds behind when the Virtual Safety Car was deployed on lap 37.

“James has had a run in with one of the lapped cars, he’s stopped at turn 5 and there’s a bit of debris on track, be careful.” The message wasn’t what Sophie had wanted to hear on two counts. The first and most obvious was her team mate’s safety, and second it meant that any chances of the team getting a double podium (which had been on the cards had things fallen McLaren’s way) had just gone up in a confetti of carbon fibre. They both knew how much it would have meant to every single person in the garage and back at Woking to have such a good result after the season they’d had thus far.

“Is he out the car?”

“Yes, James is fine,” Chris replied, still sounding incredibly cool and composed. “Just stay focused, remember your VSC delta.”

Sophie briefly thought of her family stood with Richard and Vanessa at the back of the garage, and just as quickly snapped herself out of it. She couldn’t lose focus now.

“How are the tyres feeling?”

“Good, no graining from what I can tell.”

“Copy,” Chris likely paused to either scribble in his notebook or pass the information on to Leena and Amir. “We want you to stay out for now and keep track position.”

Had they been at a different circuit, the plan likely would have been to pit under the VSC and go to the end of the race. But none of the cars around Sophie seemed to be doing that, so she took in a deep breath and exhaled instead of questioning the team’s strategy call. She had to trust the pit wall to make the right decisions as much as they had to trust Sophie to keep the car on the road.

She hammered her foot down on the accelerator pedal when the VSC ended after three laps, and thanks to the fact that she had been exiting the final corner and Nathan had been braking for turn one, she closed the gap to him by just over a second.

The sun had remained high in the sky the entire race, with the crystal blue scattered with small fluffy clouds that hadn’t gone away by lap 50, when Nathan pitted for his final stop – and Sophie took the lead of the race.

Chris told her to push, but not that she’d be coming in at the end of the lap. Plan A plus five was what he’d told her over the radio a few laps ago. So she tried to recall everything she’d learned throughout the weekend thus far and gave the next few laps hell, trying to eke out every single millisecond of lap time she could find. It would be marginal, with Nathan on fresh tyres doing the exact same thing to avoid being overcut. And when Sophie started lap 55 in the pit lane, her worn out mediums exchanged for a fresh set of yellow-walled soft tyres, she wasn’t completely sure if it had been enough.

When she drove out of the pit lane, she saw Nathan’s Mercedes breeze through turn one.

“I know you’re frustrated, but the race is going to come to us at the end. You have fresher tyres. You can do this.”

It was funny how Chris just knew that Sophie would be upset at not coming out in the lead. She was a racing driver, so of course it was in her nature. But it was the way in which he knew exactly how to keep Sophie focused. Look at the bigger picture, see the positives. There was still a chance, however big or small, that she could win.

“Where’s Schmitz?”

“P1, but he’s yet to make his final stop. He’s bleeding time on his old mediums he won’t be a threat.”

Sophie wasn’t sure if the assessment needed to be so brutal, but it got the point across.

Her tyres were up to temperature by the end of the lap, and she just about saw on her pit board that she had fifteen laps remaining. And crucially, she hadn’t lost sight of Nathan at all. If anything, he looked a hair closer to her than before. She could even make out the splashes of Petronas teal on his sidepods as he turned right for the first corner.

With Sophie’s tyre advantage, it only took her five laps to get within Nathan’s DRS range, and the additional speed was more than welcome.

She briefly thought of her Dad again, and all the trophies he’d helped win back at the McLaren factory, and when James had happily showed them to her on that rainy day in April. But Sophie just as quickly put those memories in a box to deal with later.

Instead she reeled off all the potential places where she could overtake, and ended up with a very short list. The first three corners were her most realistic bet, which meant that as she broke for turn 2, her opportunity on that lap had already gone because she hadn’t been close enough to begin with.

Benedikt pitted at the start of lap 57, but only after Nathan and Sophie had to overtake him on track because of how slow he was on his old tyres. He hadn’t made it easy for either of them and they’d both lost time. Which considering that he was the championship leader, was probably the whole idea. Sophie exhaled any remaining frustration she had about the situation and fixed her attention back on Nathan’s Mercedes.

She was back within DRS range pretty quickly, and had closed down to within a few tenths of him even quicker. But then she found herself in the leading car’s dirty air, and while the regulations had been designed for cars to follow one and other closer than before, it still wasn’t going to be ideal to stay there forever.

“How much fuel do I have?” She asked Chris on lap 59.

“More than enough for now, keep pushing.”

Deep down Sophie knew that she didn’t have enough raw pace to get past him, but if she could stay close enough to either force Nathan to make a mistake, or take advantage of one, maybe, just maybe…

The start of lap 63 came, and with it, a small puff of white smoke from Nathan’s front right tyre as he broke for the first corner, and went slightly wide off his line as a result. This was it, maybe her one and only chance.

Sophie broke as late as she possibly dared and pulled up alongside the Mercedes at the apex of turn one. She was on the inside line which was very quickly going to become the outside of turn two as she activated her DRS, and very quickly glanced to her left.

Sophie respected Nathan, and he respected her back. He knew better than to force her off the circuit and while she was nowhere near as experienced in an F1 car as Nathan was, she knew not to go for a gap that wasn’t there.

So Sophie once again broke late for turn two, and planted her McLaren on the outside line, just like on the first lap. Her front axle was in-line with Nathan’s now, but she knew he would try and get to the apex of turn three first anyway.

But Sophie did, and took the lead of the race with it.

“Go, go, go!! Give it everything you have!” Chris almost shouted down the radio as Sophie drove up the hill toward turn four, as an almighty roar came from the grandstands at turn five.

Count the corners… just count the bloody corners.

The sweeping right hand of five, the right-left chicane of six and seven, the sharper turns of eight and nine-

“How far behind is he?”

“Two tenths, he’ll try to come back in the final sector and at turn one… just keep your head down Sophie.”

Head down. Count the corners. Don’t burn all the fuel. Watch the tyres. Eight laps left, if her maths was right.

Sophie could see Nathan clear as day in her mirrors as she swept round turns 13 and 14. And he was the one to have DRS this time going down the start-finish straight and on the run down to turn 2. But Sophie held her defensive live, and maintained the lead with seven laps left.

When there were six laps left, Nathan dropped back by another couple of tenths.

When there were five laps left, the gap between them was stuck at half a second. Sophie still had the fresher tyres, and while Nathan did absolutely have the better car, the lay of the track meant that he was struggling to do much with it other than chase.

But still he chased, employing the exact same tactics as Sophie used on him. Holding close, waiting for a mistake, while Sophie just kept on counting the corners.

With four laps left, the gap between them was just under six tenths of a second.

With three laps left, it was back down to five tenths.

Sophie didn’t have the headspace to think about what it would mean for her to win the race. About the message it would send not just to the whole paddock, but to the entire planet.

The penultimate lap came with no change between the two leading cars. Then finally, along came lap 70.

She made it through the first sector without any dramas, though Sophie didn’t have the best line through the chicane, which allowed Nathan to close up by another tenth. Turns 8 to 11 went past in a blur. And as she broke for turn 12, Sophie just about saw the corner of Nathan’s front wing hovering by her right rear tyre.

There were just two corners left, as Sophie focused on the track ahead instead of the car behind. She’d deliberately saved a tiny bit of energy from the battery in case she needed to make one final charge down the main straight.

The crowds were on their feet as Sophie turned left for 13, and after what felt like an age right for the long, sweeping turn 14.

She pressed hard on the accelerator, drained what was left of her battery, turned the fuel mix to maximum, and first saw all her orange clad mechanics pumping their fists through the gaps in the pit lane fence, and the chequered flag fluttering through the air almost in slow motion. It was like someone was stretching out the circuit, making the run to the finish line even longer.

But Nathan was still in her mirrors when Sophie crossed the finish line. First.

Muscle memory kicked in as she put the car into fuel saving mode and eased her foot off the accelerator pedal. Then she burst into tears.

“Sophie Knightsbridge…” Chris had to pause, he had an almighty lump in his throat by the sounds of things. “You’ve just won the Hungarian Grand Prix, you are a Formula 1 race winner!” Any remaining sense of decorum or professionalism had clearly gone out the window, as her race engineer shouted out of pure joy down the radio. “That was such an incredible drive… we are so, so proud of you.”

“You’ve just made history Sophie! Many, many congratulations. And also the second Knightsbridge to win with us.”

“Sophie that was an utterly brilliant drive! Well done from all of us.”

“As Chris would say, you little superstar. Congratulations Sophie.”

Martin, Leena and Amir all gave their congratulations over the radio as Sophie waved at as many marshals and fans in the grandstands as she could.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Nathan pull up alongside her and he gave Sophie an thumbs up from the cockpit.

“Remember your tyre pick up as well Soph.” Chris suddenly radioed in, sounding completely and utterly spent. “And take it all in my friend, you’ve more than earned it.”

“I don’t know what to say, I…” She drew in a shaky breath as more tears fell down her face. “Thank you so much to everyone who’s believed in me all these years. Martin for giving me a chance this year, my family…” Sophie had to cough away a heavy sob. “All of you on the pit wall, and everyone in the garage and back at Woking. I could not have done any of this without you. I love you all so much.”

Somehow, somewhere, she found the energy to cheer at the top of her voice. She wanted to bottle the moment up and carry it round with her forever.

“Oh,” A penny suddenly dropped in Sophie’s mind. “I hope this is an alright birthday present Chris.”

Her race engineer just laughed down the radio, and took a long pause.

“Please don’t sing,” He finally said as Sophie meandered her way through the second sector.

Right as Sophie joked that she barely had any energy left, a marshal who had been stood at the side of the track waving flags stepped out of formation, with some fabric clenched in their fist. As Sophie slowed down to take it, she recognised the stripes of the British flag.

When Sophie drove off she clutched half the flag in her left hand so it wouldn’t get caught in the airbox when she threw her fist into the air and let the rest of the fabric flutter in the breeze as Sophie slowly made her way back to the pits.

There was a whole line of marshals jumping and dancing around on the approach to turn 14, likely designed to direct any wayward drivers into the pitlane. And Sophie dropped the flag in her lap to have both hands back on the steering wheel so she could press the pit limiter button early.

The pit lane was always full with people at the end of the race, but today there was a colossal amount of photographers gathered at the pit lane entrance. So much so that a temporary barrier had been put up to keep them in place. All of them wanted to be the first to photograph the winner. The few remaining members on the Red Bull pit wall were both on their feet and applauding as Sophie drove past. But she burst into tears again at the sight of Leena, Amir and Leon forming a guard of honour with some of James’ engineers on the other side of the pit lane.

Everyone from Sophie’s side of the garage had gathered themselves in perc fermé. They were easy to spot – all right in front of the number 1 sign that Sophie just about managed to stop her car at. She switched off the car, and flicked up her visor to pinch the bridge of her nose, and right as she undid her seatbelt to get out of the car Nathan walked over to the orange McLaren, and crouched down by the cockpit. He reached a black gloved hand inside, and Sophie clasped it tightly.

“Congratulations!” He shouted through the lining of his helmet as he flicked up his own visor. “I haven’t enjoyed a fight like that in a long time.”

Sophie let out a small laugh through her happy tears.

“Listen, enjoy it okay? And don’t let anyone take this away from you.”

“I don’t plan to.” Sophie shouted through her helmet back.

“See you up there!” With a customary pat of her helmet, Nathan stepped away to see his own mechanics, allowing Sophie to jump out of her seat and carefully stand on top of her car with her fists raised aloft in the air as applause and raucous cheers were the only sounds she could hear.

Right at the front of the barriers were Sophie’s family, and she jumped off the car and made a beeline for their arms, hugging each and every one of them for as long as she could. She wanted to say that she loved them but the words kept on getting caught in her throat, so she just squeezed them all tightly and hoped it was enough.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart,” Mark just about said through the tear stains on his cheeks. “We always knew you could do it love.”

Sophie went as high up on her toes as possible, and hugged her father tightly around the shoulders.

“Go, go see the others.” Mark said when he finally let his daughter go. And if Sophie’s mechanics had been cheering at the top of their voices in Shanghai, she briefly wondered if they would ever have any voices left as she made out Steve in the bubble of orange. Sophie hugged her number one mechanic while Aditya, Luke and Tommy all reached round to pat her helmet.

When Steve let go Sophie reached out for as many hands as she could, and only once she was certain she had seen everyone, she looked around for Vanessa and Richard.

Once again, Vanessa had planted herself just inside the scrutineering garage, and this time Richard was with her. Sophie’s face split into a wide grin as she sprinted towards her trainer and press officer, who both had their index fingers pointing to the sky forming the number one, and Sophie returned the gesture before stretching her arms out wide to hug them both.

“We did it!!!” Sophie finally found her voice again, and shouted for everyone to hear.

“You bloody smashed it!” Richard grinned. Poor Vanessa was too overwhelmed to speak and just hugged her driver and best friend tightly before jumping up and down with excitement. Once back on solid ground, Sophie went over to the scales to get weighed. And as she was finally stood still for more than a few seconds, she had the chance to remove her gloves, helmet and HANS device.

There had been multiple cameras following her the entire time, one was for the global TV feed and the others were photographers who were constantly snapping away in case the perfect shot magically happened in front of them. Sophie stayed stood on the scales regardless, and closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing. She pressed her free palm against her forehead and let a wide grin wash across her face.

Sophie jumped off the scales when she was told, and took the slip of paper from Pat Roberston, who congratulated her with a bright smile.

“Sophie!” Someone called out from the front of the open garage. Sophie whipped her head round, and beamed at Nico who sprinted towards his friend, and crushed her in the tightest hug he’d ever given her.

“I am so proud of you!” He exclaimed. “About fucking time.” He grinned as he ruffled his friends hair, already an FIA attendant was pushing Sophie towards the stairwell that led to the cool down room. “I love you!”

Sophie chuckled as Nico kissed the top of her head before he was directed over to the weigh scales.

“Love you too!” Sophie called back, and she turned to give one last cheer and fist bump in the air to her team before she pushed through the grey door, and headed for the podium.

* * *

2023 Hungarian Grand Prix Classification

1st - Sophie Knightsbridge (McLaren) - 25pts

2nd - Nathan Watkins (Mercedes) - 18pts

3rd - Benedikt Schmitz (Red Bull) - 15pts

4th - Cristóbal Vasquez (Alpine) - 12pts

5th - Giovanni Carotti (Ferrari) - 10pts

6th - Alistair Mitchell (Red Bull) - 8pts

7th - Aaron Jones (Aston Martin) - 6pts

8th - Teo Martinez (Ferrari) - 4pts

9th - Evan McKinley (Williams) - 2pts

10th - Nico Dumont (Alpha Tauri) - 1pt

11th - Owen Nichols (Aston Martin)

12th - Erik Braun (Audi)

13th - Jan Martens (Audi)

14th - Antonio Lima (Alpha Tauri)

15th - Aidan Glover (Williams)

16th - Tadashi Sato (Haas)

17th - Leon Bauer (Haas)

RET - Marc Pavard (Mercedes)

RET - James Hewitt (McLaren)

RET - Daniel Jakobsson (Alpine)

Fastest Lap - Alistair Mitchell (Red Bull) - 1pt

2023 Championship Standings after Round 11

Drivers Standings

1st - Benedikt Schmitz - 175pts

2nd - Giovanni Carotti - 153pts

3rd - Nathan Watkins - 148pts

4th - Cristóbal Vasquez - 127pts

5th - Alistair Mitchell - 119pts

(8th - Sophie Knightsbridge - 61pts

10th - James Hewitt - 37pts)

Constructors Standings

1st - Red Bull Racing-Honda - 294pts

2nd - Mercedes - 238pts

3rd - Ferrari - 231pts

4th - Alpine-Renault - 176pts

5th - McLaren-Mercedes - 98pts

#my writing #Life In The Fast Lane #LITFL Chapters #not to jinx myself but I do tentatively have all the chapters planned out 🎉#it may likely change if I get too typing happy and split races across two chapters (like that happened with this one)#also Nia I didn't want to tag you in the same thing twice but THANK YOU for your help on the race section of this chapter #I appreciated it so so much

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ghostlygeto · 2 years ago

Note

can i please req some bokuto fluff? literally whatever you want, domestic, canon, modern au, whatever!

just want some mindless fluff with my fav himbo yk :(

of course u can. kou is top 3 for me so i love writing for him. ty for the req and feel free to leave 938284 more

pairing: bokuto koutarou x reader

warnings: fluff???ish i feel like it might be lowkey lame but that’s ok i like it. fluff is not my specialty so sorry if it’s not good<;/3

wc: 900

As soon as you answered your phone you were met with the eager tone of Hinata Natsu, "Come to tonight's game with me!"

"Natsu, that's almost impossible. How do you expect we travel that far in such little time? The game starts in-"

"Eight hours, I know I already looked at train times and routes. If we leave right now and get on the next train we will have thirty minutes to get to the venue and into the game," She spoke as if it were no big deal, "And I figured Mrs. Bokuto would be the best person to ask to go with me!" You rolled your eyes at 'Mrs. Bokuto'. "So what do you say?"

You sighed, "Come to my place ASAP, buy the train tickets. I'll buy the game tickets."

"Already did, the soonest one leaves in thirty minutes." You could hear Natsu's smile through the phone, "I'll be over soon! And don't tell Shoyo or Bokuto, I want to surprise them!"

Before you could reply she had already hung up, leaving you on your own to start getting ready. It was a good thing you live close to the station because otherwise there's no way this would be possible.

You somehow managed to shower, get dressed, buy tickets, and eat breakfast all within the twenty minutes it took Natsu to walk to your house. She was all ready as well, wearing some MSBY merch and her hair up in her classic pigtails. "Ready to go, y/n?"

"I can't believe I'm about to last minute sit on a train for seven hours just for you," You clicked your tongue, "You're lucky I've been severely missing Kou lately, otherwise I would've said no."

"No you wouldn't have," Natsu grabbed your wrist to pull you out the door, "You look cute, by the way. In his away jersey,"

"Thank you," You smiled, "Now let's get this train ride over with."

Seven miserable hours later, you were finally at your destination. Natsu was right, you made it to the venue with hardly any time before the game started.

Somehow you managed to get tickets up close to the court so late notice, so you had a perfect view of the entire game.

It took everything in your power not to call out to Bokuto the second you saw him on the court. He had been gone for a few weeks now, and even though you two would talk as often as you could and video call whenever, it wasn't enough. You wanted to grab onto him and hug him so hard he could barely breathe (though you knew he would be hugging you that way).

Halfway through the match, Bokuto swore he heard your voice. Despite the thousands of people there he distinctly heard your voice calling out to him, telling him he was doing a good job. His eyes scoured the crowd before he spotted you and he felt his heart swell up. He hit Hinata on the shoulder to get his attention, gesturing over to where you and the younger Hinata sibling were waving super aggressively.

You blew several kisses to Bokuto, making sure to show off the fact that you were wearing the much oversized jersey. "You're doing amazing, Kou! Keep it up!"

The whistle blew and Bokuto suddenly felt a surge of confidence wave through him that wasn't there before. The second half everyone could tell something had gotten into Bokuto, but none of them knew what it was.

They ended up winning, of course. And you know the second they blew the whistle ending the game that you were on your way to their locker room to congratulate him.

“y/n! I can’t believe you’re here!” Bokuto hugged you, still all sweaty from the game though you didn’t mind, “I had no idea you were coming! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Natsu called me this morning and we took the first train to get here. We barely even made it, we wanted to surprise you.” You replied, holding tightly onto your boyfriend, “God I missed you so much, Kou. You did amazingly out there.”

“All thanks to you,” Bokuto muttered into the corner of your neck, pulling back to pepper little kisses all over your face. “Are you going back home tonight? You should come stay in the hotel with me.”

“I have work tomorrow, Kou. As much as I’d love to you know I can’t.” As if on cue, he pulled out those stupid puppy dog eyes he knew you could never say no to. He uses them to get him way often on little things like this, because who could say no to a face like that?

“Please, y/n? Just one night. I miss you so much,” Bokuto held an overdramatic pout on his face, clasping his hands together to show his begging.

“Bokuto you better get that lip back in yer mouth before a bird poops on it,” Atsumu teased, shoving Bokuto’s head lightly, “Hi y/n.”

“Butt out, Miya!” Bokuto laughed, shoving his teammate back. “Really though, please stay just tonight y/n. I’ll pay for your train ticket home tomorrow.”

You smiled, “How can I turn down a free train ticket? Of course I’ll stay the night with you, Kou.”

“Thank god,” Bokuto hugged you tightly again, giving you a kiss, “I think I’d die if I had to sleep another night without you.”

likes, reblogs, comments n requests appreciated!

#haikyuu #hq bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto koutaro #bokuto kotaro #mine !!

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

Text

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, big fan of your last quarantine party. If your looking for prompts here a spin on a common one. Crisis AU: Lena Luthor is the Paragon of Humanity, only it not Earth-38 Lena but one of your AU Lena's from another Earth (Paladin Lena, Sensate Lena, Potterverse Lena, etc). Bonus points if it that Lena that reborn in Earth-Prime instead of her Earth-38 counterpart.

A/N: Sensate!Lena for the win!

-----

Lena watches the anti matter wave swallow Earth-38. In the blink of an eye, the entire planet vanishes from the screen, but that isn't what stops the heart in her chest, freezing the breath in her lungs.

No. What makes the world stop is the sudden emptiness in her mind, the vacuum in her thoughts that is the absence of her cluster.

The shock of the severed bond makes the world spin around her. Her knees knock together, catching Supergirl's attention.

"Lena, it's okay, we'll fix it..."

The rest of her platitudes fall away as Lena's grip on reality falters, and she sinks into the nothingness.

Alone.

---

When she awakens, Kara is hovering next to her, perched anxiously on a stool beside the med bay recliner Lena rests in. But the physical nearness to another person does nothing to quash the deep isolation in Lena's chest.

Not one of them had made. None of her cluster survived.

She expects tears to rise, expects the tightness in her chest to resolve into a sob. But nothing comes. She's completely and utterly empty.

"Lena, are you--"

Ignoring the concern, Lena pushes out of the recliner and heads towards the door to the med bay as soon as she's on her feet.

"How do we fix this?"

---

By the time Lex shows up, Lena has nothing to react with. She sees her brother's smirking countenance, egging her to say something, but she remains silent. Not even the fact that her lack of reaction rankles him is enough to make her feel anything.

That doesn't keep him from negging her.

"Tell me," he says, sauntering into the lab the Legends have assigned them, "did any of your imaginary friends manage to evacuate? Or are you alone like the rest of us mere mortals--"

Without a word, Lena whirls and decks her brother in the jaw with a powerful right hook. He staggers, but Lena doesn't give him time to recover. The next thing she knows Sara Lance is hauling her away from where she's straddling Lex's chest and delivering blow after blow to his head and face.

She nearly catches Sara in the face with a flailing elbow in her effort to break free and resume her task of pulverizing Lex's skull to pieces. In response Sara cleanly flips her onto her back, slamming her as gently as possible to the deck and pinning her there.

Still, Lena feels nothing.

"Easy," Sara soothes, "easy now."

Lex coughs, rolling to his side before spitting the blood from his mouth.

"Bravo, sis." His voice is little more than a wheeze, but he still hasn't lost his arrogance. "I didn't think you had it in you." He tsks. "What would your cluster think?"

Lena regards him coolly, her muscles slackening under Sara's weight.

"Fuck you."

---

Resurrecting reality is easier than Lena expects, all things considered. Time spent in the dawn of time isn't really spent at all. None of them age, none of them know when a day has passed or a hundred. Sleep is useless. So Lena works.

The quiet of her own singular consciousness never fills. The emptiness in her chest gapes, driving her to spend every moment working on a solution. At least the other paragons know to keep Lex as far away from her as possible.

When they succeed, when their solution WORKS, as soon as she opens her eyes Lena feels full again. Her thoughts no longer rattle around her mind-- they're ensconced, cradled by the consciousness of the others. Lena stands in the sun of Earth Prime and breathes what feels like her first breath since the destruction of Earth-38.

With tears building in her eyes, Lena closes her eyes and reaches out through the restored connections emanating to and from their shared consciousness.

A flash of images bombard her, but she barely feels it as alarm floods her mind. Her breath quickens in panic, as realization slowly dawns.

She realizes she doesn't know a single one of them.

//prompts are closed

#prompt filled #sensate lena #during crisis #sensate lena as paragon of humanity #bc what better choice than a model of the next evolution of humanity

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arvinsescape · 3 years ago

Note

Could you write something with tom being super clingy after not seeing reader for a while and not wanting to share her with anyone?

Tom’s clingy.

A/N: I loved this I hope you enjoy!! Thank you so much for sending it in and thank you for your patience 💕💕

Warnings: None that I’m aware of.

Tom had gotten back just over two hours ago, a month long stretch of filming had seemingly left him very touch starved. He was quite literally all over you, kissing all over your face, keeping you cuddled into his chest, holding your hand. You were currently led on the couch, cuddling and watching a film.

You’d held it long enough but you needed to pee, moving Tom’s arm that was slung across your waist, you suddenly felt resistance as he pulled you back into his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he kissed at the exposed skin of your neck.

“Tom, I need to empty my bladder.” You giggled as he huffed and reluctantly let you go. You moved from your comfortable spot on the couch, watching as Tom rolled onto his back, slight pout on his lips before making your way to the bathroom.

As soon as you were done you headed back to your doting boyfriend who instantly grabbed you and pulled you onto his chest, a slight ‘oomph’ leaving your lips as you collided with the toned area. Tom instantly wrapped his arms around you and you laughed.

“Are you trying to suffocate me?” You teased as he relaxed his grip slightly.

“Sorry, just missed you.” He said as he kissed the top of your head, you nuzzled in to his chest, leaving a kiss there.

“I was gone for like two minutes.” You pointed out and he groaned.

“No, I mean while I was away.” He clarified and you smiled, he never missed an opportunity to shower you in affection but this time when he’d gotten home it was like it had been dialled to a thousand.

This continued on for a solid two days, you went to make a brew? Tom’s arms would be around you. You went to load the washing machine? Tom was hovering. You found it endearing and slightly amusing, especially once Tess had gotten jealous of Tom having all your attention, last night had been amusing.

You were laying in bed, waiting for Tom to get out of the shower, he’d huffed when you declined his offer to shower with him. Tess jumping up onto the bed with you as she attempted to get under the duvet.

“Tess, it’s our secret that you sleep in here.” You laughed as you stroked her, tail instantly wagging at the affection as she licked at your cheek. It was strange that you and Tess had a mutual understanding, she only ever slept in yours and Tom’s bed when you were ill and in bed all day or when Tom was away filming.

It wasn’t that he hated her being in bed, he just preferred if she didn’t, but when he was away? You let her join you. However, tonight she was going to push her luck and get into bed with the two of you, you laughed as you caved and let her under the duvet with you.

Tom appeared and flopped into bed, wrapping his arm around your waist when he felt Tess shift closer to you. She was attached to your side as she always was when she was sleepy. Tom stroked her head a few times before nuzzling his head into your back.

“Since when does Tess sleep in bed?” He asked and you shrugged.

“She wants a cuddle too.”

“You’d let her get away with anything.” Tom said as he pulled you closer to his chest, interlocking your legs.

“I would not.” You would. You do. “Just, she’s settled now, let her stay.” You begged and Tom breathed out a laugh before kissing the back of your head.

“Okay, but it’s gonna get too hot in here.” He said and of course he was right.

Ten minutes later and you were kicking your feet out of the duvet, you were now sweating as you were wedged between the two. Neither of them left an inch of space between your body and theirs, Tess was in a deep sleep and Tom’s breathing had almost evened out, signalling he was almost asleep.

You wiggled around as you tried to create some space, trying to lift Tom’s arm that was weighing heavy on your sweating figure. His grasp tightening as he attempted to keep you still but the heat was becoming unbearable as you huffed.

“Stop moving.” Tom grumbled, half asleep.

“I’m too hot.” You huffed out and Tom laughed.

“Told you, move Tess.” He said with a half hearted laugh.

“Tom, just shift over.” You huffed as you attempted to move his arm again.

“I don’t think so darling.”

“Come on, she’s asleep and you’re not.” You tried to reason.

“Nope. I’m not moving.” Tom said stubbornly, you weren’t going to win this one.

“So you want me to move Tess? She’s asleep and she’s comfy, plus you’re more hot than she is.” You tried again.

“Nice try sweetheart but no, if anyone is moving it’s Tess.”

“You’ll still be next to me.”

“Not close enough love. Besides Tess has had you all month, I haven’t.”

“You move her.” You said, hoping to not have to move the sleeping dog from her spot. It suddenly dawned on you that you were all sharing your side of the bed, Tom’s almost untouched. “Wait, just move back.” You said and Tom complied, shifting the two of you backwards and onto his side, away from Tess who was sprawled on your side.

The sheets were cooler on his side and you couldn’t be more thankful as you felt your sweating stop. Tess huffed in her sleep when she felt you move, waking up almost instantly to see where you’d gone. You watched as she stood up and moved closer to you again.

“Tess, come on. Out now.” Tom said as he pulled you into his chest, impossibly closer. “No, come on. You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” He said as she looked at him before huffing and jumping off the bed, finding her dog bed on the floor.

“That was mean.” You yawned out. “You should share you know.” You teased and Tom huffed.

“Not you baby.” He mumbled out quietly, sleep lacing his voice as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

You were making a brew when your phone pinged, your friend having texted you to see if you wanted to go out for lunch.

“Babe, I think I’m going out for lunch with (Y/F/N).” You said as you made your way into the living room where you’d managed to leave him this time.

“You’re going out?” He asked, almost deflated.

“Only for lunch. I’ll be like two hours.” You laughed.

“That’s so long.” He said as he grasped your hand, entwining your fingers as he rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

“It’s really not.” You snorted.

“I just wanna stay in and cuddle you though.” He said.

“What is with you?” You asked him amused. “You’ve literally not let me out of your sight for three days.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Tom, we’ve done this so many times. You’re never this needy.” You laughed as you poked his chest, he grasped your finger in his hand and held it to chest.

“I’m not allowed to miss you?” He asked and you snorted again.

“I know you too well. What’s up?” You asked and he huffed.

“I don’t know, I just missed you so much. Like more than usual, all I could think about was how cold the bed was in my trailer and how much I missed having you next to me. I don’t know I realised how much I just don’t ever want to let you go. I know we’ve been together two years but this just felt different, I hated every second of being away from you.” He said and your heart melted.

“I realised something while I was away this time and I don’t wanna scare you off by saying it but I realised how much I want to marry you. I’m not asking right now but I just want you to know how much I love and appreciate you. How much you mean to me.” He said and you were sat there in shock. Tom Holland had just told you that he didn’t want anyone else, that you were all he wanted in life.

“Sorry, I don’t wanna scare you or put pressure on you.” He said sheepishly, completely misreading your shock. You snapped back to reality as you looked at him, a grin spreading across your lips as you threw yourself at him, cuddling into him.

“I love you too Tommy. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I don’t see myself with anyone else.” You said as you peppered his face with kisses.

“Sorry I’ve been so clingy baby,” he said as he moved a stray piece of hair from your face. “I’ve just missed you so much and I don’t know when I saw you for the first time in a month after coming to the realisation I want you forever. It was like a truck of emotions hit me and I don’t wanna let you go.”

“Don’t apologise for loving me Tom.” You smiled as you sat in his lap. “But I do need to go and see (Y/F/N).” Tom grinning at you.

“Okay baby,” he said as he kissed your temple. “Go have fun, i’ll be here when you get back.”

#tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff

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teeztheflag · 4 years ago

Text

─────────────────────

Mafia!Ateez reaction to their child telling them that a member is flirting with you

trigger warnings ⚠️ mafia themes, flirting, mentions of cheating, possessive behavior, murder, alcohol, sexual harassment (slight)

general taglist: @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @yunhobabygurl @multidreams-and-desires @purplelady85 @smallfrye

─────────────────────

k i m h o n g j o o n g

„Where’s mommy?“ Your little son ran up to Hong Joong to be picked up by the mafia leader.

His eyes wander over the crowd at the garden gathering and when he’s not spotting you he flashes a little smile at his son.

„Mommy is talking to a man.“

Hong Joong nudges the little boy to whereas he points into a direction. Following the path around the house he sees you talking to none other than Kang Yeo Sang. His rival.

When Yeo Sang places his palm on your cheek you take a step back and frown at the boy. Hearing a cough behind you a smile escapes your form. The rival on the other hand rolls with his eyes and lets out a huff.

You’re quick to stand next to your husband and take your son into your arms leaving the two mafia leaders behind.

„You’re getting on my nerves, Kang.“

─────────────────────

p a r k s e o n g h w a

„(y/n)...“

You stood stiff in Seong Hwa‘s lavish office. Your gaze trained to the ground and your heart sinking to the bottom when he neared your form. He placed his cold fingers under your chin to raise your head. Locking his eyes with you a sigh escapes him.

„You know you belong to me. Why are you still resisting?“

„I don’t know what you are talking about.“

Seong Hwa engulfs you into his embrace leaning your head on his shoulder.

„Even our princess doesn’t like you betraying me. I will make sure you are not seeing him again.“

─────────────────────

j e o n g y u n h o

„And what did he say after that?“

Yun Ho caressed his daughters soft hair while she sat on his lap in their livingroom.

„That he will hurt her. I don’t remember so much... He was really scary daddy!“

With big glossy eyes Yun Ho feels his heart shattering. His daughter being so afraid for his light of the world.

He wouldn’t let Choi San get away with this.

After bringing his angel to bed he visits your shared bedroom to see you being asleep. You’re stirring and he can only guess that your nightmares are back.

With a gun and a sharp knife hidden in his suit he drives fast through the night. His team is already ready to blow up the place.

And with the final hit Yun Ho grabs the ex lover of his wife by his collar.

„I told you to stay away from us. That she is not your business anymore. What were you thinking?“

San struggles in his grip but manages to bring out his probably last words. „Kill me, but, live with the knowledge that she will never love you.“

He dropped to the ground and Yun Ho grasps his shaking hands together rage filling his body.

─────────────────────

k a n g y e o s a n g

When your son repeatedly told Yeo Sang that he really liked the guy that was around you since a few weeks he was relieved. It was good Woo Young seemed to do his job right. After the last attack he wanted the both of you safe all the time. That’s why he send one of his best men that he trusted with all of his might.

It was only when he tucked him into bed that he stopped in his tracks being deep in thoughts. He goes downstairs and pours himself a glass of wine. He jolts a little bit when you embrace him from behind and he turns around to eye you with a sharp gaze. Tilting his head you step back and flash him a small smile.

„What’s up?“

„Woo Young‘s taking good care of you, right?“

You frown and immediately know by the tone he uses that something‘s not to his liking, and, Kang Yeo Sang not liking something was bad.

„He is, he is doing a good job. I guess.“

„Hyun Jin likes him, too. But you know what he just told me?“

You absentmindedly reach out to him to probably cool down his anger.

„He told me that uncle Woo Young was really close to you. Close like ‚daddy‘, when I asked him what he meant with that.”

“Yeo Sang, he’s not. He is just friendly. Hugging me as a greeting nothing more.“

„You think our three year old son is lying to me? (y/n), I warn you, I know him. Don’t take his flirting attempts light hearted.“

You nod at him knowing he wouldn’t take any arguing.

„If you can’t stop him I will give him a different job.“ With a last sip he finishes his glass and roughly pulls you into him to place a delicate and territorial kiss on your forehead.

─────────────────────

c h o i s a n

„Dad, I don’t know how to say this but... I am really worried for your marriage. I mean is everything fine?“

San takes his cup of coffee sitting down on the breakfast table in front of your fourteen year-old daughter. He really needed a moment to register So Ra‘s words.

„What? Of course everything‘s fine! Or what are you even talking about?“

So Ra‘s gaze is trained on the buttered toast in front of her a deep frown taking place on her forehead.

„Yesterday at the gala... and I don’t know if I am mistaking things, but, I feel like she was flirting with this CEO named Song.“

San‘s eyes widened and he quickly takes a another sip from his coffee. „Oh, ehm, believe me your mother has always had her effect on...men.“

„Yeah, but, dad - the guy was literally stripping her naked with his eyes - “

„Choi So Ra! Your words!“ So Ra gestures a sorry with her hands but she didn’t want her mother to be so close to other men. She loved her parents dearly and she wanted to have a marriage like them in the future.

„Really, anyways, don’t worry. Everything‘s perfect. If there’s a problem we would never lie to you, promise!“ He holds his pinky for So Ra and with a relieved sigh she links it like she and her dad always did.

„Good morning!“ You place a kiss on your daughter‘s cheek and send a smirk to San being proud you got the right information last night.

San looks at his two princesses and has to hold back a laugh. If their daughter only knew their jobs things would be more dangerous but in many ways easier, too.

─────────────────────

s o n g m i n g i

„What means ‚sexy‘?“

You nearly caugh at your son‘s words quickly drinking something. Min Gi also nearly doubles over laughing while typing away a text for his members for their mission.

„Dong In! I thought we talked about this already.“

Your son was a persistent person eyeing you suspiciously.

Min Gi places his device on the table continuing to eat the soup for their shared dinner. „It means beautiful, but, it’s not a really polite word, Dong In.“

„Ah, so Mr. Kim is not polite to you Mum?“ That indeed catches your husband‘s attention.

„What is he talking about, (y/n)?“ A sly smile leaves him.

You groan out knowing sooner or later your son would’ve told him. „Well, Dong In‘s teacher just seems to need a talk with me about our son occasionally. And today he told me that he thinks I am ‚beautiful‘. Right, Dong In?“ Your son wasn’t paying attention anymore but with a naive sigh he slurped the rest of his soup.

„He said mommy‘s a sexy thing.“

„Dong In!“ Min Gi slowly sits back flexing his arm‘s muscles. He eyes you with a hungry gaze while he nudges Dong In.

„Next time Mr. Kim is telling your mother that she’s beautiful you say that your dad thinks so, too. Alright buddy?“ Min Gi fist bumps with your son.

„Got it!“

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j u n g w o o y o u n g

Woo Young wasn’t really a jelous man. He knew his worth and he also tend to be proud of the woman at his sight. Your auro caught the gazes of many men and that only boosted the mafia‘s ego.

When a man was flirting with you it was for you to play by the game. Being raised into the mafia business yourself you knew how to handle those greedy bastards.

Woo Young only smirked in the back of a booth when someone sneaked into the seat next to you at the bar. His men ready at any given chance to beat up the poor soul that tried to take what was Jung‘s.

But - he also loved your sneaky site.

It was only a button that you pushed too far when your daughter went up to his daddy to cry about how you were not giving her enough attention at the big gathering. Like the father himself their princess needed the recognition from her beloved ones.

Woo Young‘s gaze darkened when he saw you being corned by the one and only mafia leader of the west - Choi Jong Ho.

„That b - “

„Daddy! You didn’t want to swear! Mommy told you not to swear!“

„Ahhh, you’re right darling.“ He turned around to give his daughter into Seong Hwa‘s arms - one of his members.

With confident steps he emerges your form at the end of the room where Jong Ho was busy playing with your hair while talking about his latest wins in the business.

„Choi. Would you mind keeping your hands to yourself?“ Woo Young was raging by now. You didn’t stop the rival from touching you and the naive smile you send to your lover only angered him more.

„Let’s ask the lady what she wants.“ Jong Ho wiggles his eyebrows at Woo Young and you mentally facepalmed knowing Mr. Jung would scream bloody murder in a few seconds.

„I am sorry Mr. Choi.“ You gracefully step into Woo Young‘s arms giving him the satisfaction of winning this little debate with his rival. Jong Ho laughs out loud and turns around to leave the two of you.

„If you want attention ask for it. Don’t make me mad, baby.“

You lock eyes with him putting on a pout. „This way it is much more fun!“

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c h o i j o n g h o

It was the final day your son got introduced to the mafia world. A big party was held for him after he was prepared for everything over months. It was also his 16th birthday party and you had tears in your eyes knowing he was growing into a man so quickly really assembling his father in many ways.

It has been Park Seong Hwa‘s presence that put you off. He was an acquaintance of your clan for a long time but you didn’t really like the guy. When he approached you after dinner, when you were ushering your son to dance with a girl on the dancefloor, you immediately knew he was going to get on your nerves again.

He made jokes, touched you and clearly invaded your personal space. For the sake of your peaceful agreement you played his game hoping someone would come to help you out of your misery.

„Dad, I will literally kick this guy‘s balls if - “

„I already know about it.“ Jong Ho‘s gaze is fixed on your figure across the room. He turns to his son and tells him to have fun. He would take care of the matter.

Jong Ho soundlessly leans into your side leading Seong Hwa to roll with his eyes. He places a meaningful and strong kiss on your trembling lips catching your weight with his arms to steady you.

Playfully he turns around to the mafia a smile adoring his features. „Mr. Park. I didn’t even see you there!“ You’re quick to leave the duo to get to the toilet knowing by the squeeze Jong Ho just gave you a few seconds ago.

„Still so possessive I see. Let us leave this by complimenting you on your still beautiful wife.“ He let’s out a giggle while eying the crowd.

„Thank you, Seong Hwa. Seems to be running in my family.“

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↺ back to navi

─────────────────────

#ateez mafia #ateez reaction #ateez mafia au #ateez reactions #ateez au #ateez writing #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years ago

Text

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part Two)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Butterflies getting caught in throats with no words to help explain. Time standing still with a heart breaking. Determination and a willingness to see it through float away in sleep.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw injury (nothing major, just a wrist injury)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 6644

Shoutout to @damianodavide, who was a superb help on this chapter and the real life nurse behind this one ;) 😘

***

Damiano’s head was spinning. As soon as he closed his eyes, Y/n’s face appeared in front of him, eyes hooded, lips plumps from just having kissed him, and an expression that promised a need for more. It left him bothered in a way that he knew would not let him sleep until he took care of it. Trying to pretend it was her feminine hand instead of his own rather undignified touch, he reached into the waistband of his underwear immediately letting out a hiss at the contact.

He was desperate for her, but if he couldn’t have her, his imagination would have to do. Pictures flashed through his mind as he moved his hand. Her on her knees, looking up at him through long lashes. He had already gotten a taste of the way she reacted when he complimented her, watching her eyes go wide as he called her a good girl. Her being good for him. Her on her back, ready to be devoured by him in any way he pleased. Feeling his hands go into her hair pulling her face up to look at him. Her bent over whatever furniture he could find, willing to let him have his way with her. Deeply, madly, irrefutably, he wanted it all. She was truly making him lose his mind. Her body and the way she moved were infatuating. Her laugh when someone did something dumb. The look in her eyes when she teased him back. He could still feel the kiss she left on his lips. He never wanted that feeling to end. Brava ragazza mia.

He came with an embarrassingly loud groan, unable to hold back or keep quiet. For a moment, in the silence, he wondered if anyone had heard. He was well aware that his room was surrounded by those of bandmates and crew, but he couldn’t remember who it was exactly anyway, and it didn’t bother him for long, his hazy mind drifting around once again.

***

“Where is your mind at?” Y/n looked up as Victoria pulled her out of her thoughts unexpectedly. Y/n had stopped in Victoria's room after breakfast, trying to keep tabs on what everyone’s plans were on their day off. She had meant to get some work done as Victoria was busying herself getting ready, but it had ended up with her staring into the distance, laptop almost forgotten on her lap.

“Oh, sorry. I’m here, what were you saying?”

“I asked where your mind is at.” Victoria fell forward laying on the bed. Y/n knew that the blonde was starting to learn to read her like a book and she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Yeah, um, listen. What would you say to someone that may have absolutely decimated her career, by maybe accidentally kissing her boss while they were all high?” She didn’t dare look at the bassist, bracing herself for whatever negative reaction would potentially come from this.

Victoria sat up in surprise, eyes wide and the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “I’m going to need a lot more information than that.” Without giving in to Y/n’s slight protest, she removed the laptop from the assistant’s legs, closing it shut and putting it away. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, there wasn’t much to it really. We sat on the couch, you know that. And I said something stupid about how his eyes looked like chocolates, or maybe gemstones? I don’t quite remember. Anyway, then he pulled my hair out of the hair-tie. I went to kiss his cheek, but he turned his face. Fuck, it was bad. Not the kiss! He is very good at that! But I shouldn’t have done that. And then he just went ‘it's cool, it happens’. What does that even mean?!” She was talking much too quickly, getting it all out before the rational part of her brain would make her shut up. Make her remember she was talking to someone she’d only just started getting to know a week ago, who she was working for. “Then Thomas crashed and you know how that ended. Now I might be avoiding him. Just a bit.” She looked at Vic with a slight panic in her eyes, unsure if she had said too much.

Victoria, on the other hand, seemed delighted to no end, if a little shocked. “Wait, as if you kissed with all of us there and no one noticed!” She exclaimed, briefly pausing, contemplating, but shaking it off to get back to the conversation. “So… Good kiss, huh? Did you enjoy it then? Wanna do it again?” Her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Victoria! That is not what I am worried about here! I could lose my job. I- I could never show my face out there again if people found out. And I really enjoy this job, you know!” Her face scrunched a little bit, calming down with a sigh. “...But also, yes, he was a gentleman, and if he wanted to … kiss me again, I probably wouldn’t say no. But I also wouldn’t say yes. I work for you. This is not the time to be thinking about how much I enjoyed kissing Damiano!”

Her eyes went wide as her voice dropped to a whisper, looking down at her hands. “Ah fuck, I said that out loud.”

“Okay, let’s look at it from a rational standpoint then.” Victoria turned slightly more serious at seeing her panic. “There is no way you’ll be losing your job over this. Maybe I wouldn’t advise hopping into bed with the whole band and crew, but we always got a tight-knit relationship with people we work with anyway, you know that. None of us would rat you out to management or anything. Plus, if you liked and Damiano liked it… wouldn’t it be a shame to worry about anything else instead of going for it?”

“I don’t know if he liked it. I was busy trying not to pass out, to be honest. I avoided him this morning by going straight to your room. I actually kind of avoided everyone, I’m scared the words of what happened will just come out to anyone who asks… Kind of like they just did with you.” She let out another deep sigh, switching between looking at her nails, picking at them, and out the window. “If he ...you know ... Then maybe. I honestly don’t even know what I would do with that information. On the off chance that he did like it though. And wanted to go for it then I’d consider it.” She tried to remain as put together as possible and, well aware that she was failing miserably.

“Well, in that case, we have to find out what Damiano wants!” Victoria’s enthusiasm was back with a vengeance. “You should talk to him! Or should I talk to him? Maybe I should lock you in a room like those romcoms and threaten to not let you out again until you kiss.”

“Or you don’t do that because that is entrapment. I think I would be cool with you talking to him. But I still have to do my job. That comes first. Because as far as I am concerned,” Y/n got up and grabbed her laptop again, “it is business as usual. And last night was a fluke. Not to crush your rom-com dreams, love, but if I spoke to him I’d put my foot in my mouth faster than you can play bass.”

The smirk on Vic’s face didn’t promise anything good. “We’ll see about that, we’ll see,” she ominously muttered, before jumping up from the bed. “Now stop trying to pretend you got work to do, we’re going vintage clothes shopping.”

***

The thrift store turned out to be a small hole-in-the-wall kind of place, just off a side street - perfect for shopping in peace without getting much attention at all. Y/n hadn’t been all that keen on keeping the band company for this little adventure, but Victoria had insisted, claiming she needed a female perspective in case the boys were being stupid again. It had only taken a serious case of the puppy dog eyes to win her over, and Victoria found herself making a mental note to remember it.

The store was stuffed full of clothes, a kind of chaos that seemed to have an order that only the owner really understood. But it looked like heaven, and within seconds everyone had vanished into some corner or other, dying to find their newest favourite piece. For a moment, Victoria contemplated who she wanted to follow first, feeling the need to talk to at least two different people but also never wanting to miss out on a chance to go crazy with Thomas. Ended up deciding on Damiano. It seemed the more pressing issue. She hadn’t failed to notice how he would try to pretend that everything was normal, yet continuously evading Y/n’s eyes. She had kept her distance all the same. This wasn’t acceptable. She had to do something, Victoria decided.

She found the singer shuffling through some blouses, although much more half-heartedly than he tended to be when it came to vintage clothes. Looking out from the racks Victoria saw Y/n doing the same. She briefly considered how to go on about this - admit that Y/n had told her what had happened? Pretend she had actually seen the kiss last night? - but figured that Damiano would start talking on his own accord sooner or later. Especially if this was affecting him the way it was Y/n, and she was almost hoping it was.

“Okay, spill, what’s up with you today?”

Damiano shrugged, pulling a shirt out from the rack, and holding it against his body, waiting for Victoria's opinion. She raised a brow and put it back wordlessly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he responded rather vaguely.

“Damia, you’ve barely spoken at all today. Normally you can’t shut up. And you know, I’d be thankful for some peace and quiet from you, but you’re actually worrying me. So what’s going on with you?”

Damiano had a panicked look on his face as he scanned over the racks of clothes, his eyes flickering back and forth, obviously noticing Y/n shuffling through some things and slowly getting closer. Taking Vic by surprise, he dragged her into the dressing rooms.

“Okay, that’s…. Weirdly intimate, but go on,” Vic mumbled to herself as he closed the curtain behind them, still nervously looking around the small space.

“Rather talk to you in here, than her hear me out there. I may have fucked up, royally.” He crossed his arms over his chest and Victoria was sure he would be burning a hole into the wall with his vision if he possessed that power. He was avoiding looking at her and she knew it.

“Explain,” she simply demanded, sitting down on the tiny stool in the corner and looking up at Damiano. She wanted to hear it from him, hear what had happened in his version of the story, hear what was bothering him so much.

“So we were at that bar, right? Y/n was sitting next to me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you were there. Anyway. We were talking. I don’t know if it was the smoking or whatever else, but I looked at her and - I don’t know why I did this but I did. I pulled her hair out of her hair tie.” He leaned on the wall, his head hitting the brick behind him. He groaned but Vic assumed it didn’t have anything to do with the pain. “And… and she was so beautiful. Her hair just all around her. So soft. And at that moment, she was laughing and it sounded heavenly. And I went to look at her again and suddenly my lips were on hers…” His voice softened at the end, losing his train of thought and drifting. She had never quite seen him like this. “Then she was freaking out, and I told her some fucking stupid line like ‘it happens’. I just wanted her to calm down but… Now she must think I’d just...” He groaned, slumping a little and finally looking over at Vic. “Then she ran off to help Thomas.”

“So, what you’re saying then is that you did enjoy it? Potentially wanna do it again?” She felt transported back to the conversation she’d had with Y/n just hours earlier, posing almost the exact same question. She had never been this involved with any of her friends’ relationships to this extent, but something told her that her help was desperately needed in this case.

He raised a brow at her. “Did you not hear the part where after we kissed she then proceeded to freak out? I doubt that she even wants to see my face right now.” A heavy sigh left him and Victoria found herself laying a hand on his arm. “And of course I want to kiss her again, Vic. I close my eyes and she is there. Hell, she wakes me up every morning! I can’t escape. She is everywhere I go! I turn a corner and she is there. She's the one we go to when wanting to eat, she arranges the cars, she helps us with concerts, she’s doing everything all the time. I don’t know how much more I can take!”

***

Y/n stood in the shoe aisle holding a pair of heels in her hand, contemplating for a second, before putting them on. Turning towards Ethan, who was walking towards her now, she realised it had eliminated all height differences between them. Definitely too high, she thought to herself. Holding onto his shoulders, she clumsily took them back off.

“Hey Ethan, find anything good?” The smile on her face felt forced but she was praying he wouldn’t see it.

He proudly holds up a black, studded belt with an intricate design on it, as well as a pink suede jacket. “How about you? I think I saw some nice trousers over there that might suit you. Wanna check it out?”

Y/n scoffed. She didn’t want to let her mood out on Ethan, trying her hardest to stay diplomatic. “Love the idea, but I doubt any of the clothes in here would go over my thigh. They’d fit you guys just great though. The jacket looks good, by the way.” She tried to distract herself from - well, everything - by putting the shoes away, mindlessly letting her fingers wander over the other pairs standing there.

Ethan looked at her in contemplation for a moment, but seemed to decide against following his train of thought. “At least try on some more shoes. Here, what about these?” He excitedly grabbed a pair of high-heeled boots, very much in the style she could see any of them wearing on stage - much less the one she usually went for when working.

A little intimidated, she took the shoes, if only to humour him. Ethan was nothing but a sweetheart, this was the least she could do. She put them on only with some slight struggle. She once again reached his height, almost amused by the feeling of seeing eye-to-eye with him, but the shoes felt strange. Very far removed from the usual flats, sneakers, boots, or whatever other pair that would allow her to keep running around all day without regretting it in the evening.

“Do I look silly?”

“You look gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.” His voice had the most earnest tone to it and it was only supported by the way he studied her, looking her up and down. “Maybe walk a few steps to see if you can get used to it.”

She laughed as she proceeded to strut and partially dance some steps down the aisle to the song playing in the store. “I haven’t worn heels in so long, still got it though!”.” Her small smile grew into a grin, rather proud of herself for still being able to keep up. Going to the mirror near Ethan she looked at the shoes, then at herself in the shoes, then back at Ethan. Still, the insecurity took over for a moment. Her voice seemed small when she asked, “You think so?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you like that,” he replied, putting a hand over his heart for emphasis. “Want to go and see what the others think? I saw Thomas over there, and Vic and Dami disappeared into that corner a while ago.”

“Right, good idea.” She walked over to the dressing room looking for Damiano and Victoria, figuring they had gone to try on some things. Well, she was mainly looking for Victoria, still uncomfortable at the thought of facing the singer. She was in the middle of calling out for them when Damiano’s voice seeped through the curtain instead. She didn’t mean to listen, only to wait for him to stop so she could interrupt, but the second she realised what he was saying she wished she had never come over.

“Hell, she wakes me up every morning! I can’t escape. She is everywhere I go! I turn a corner and she is there. She's the one we go to when wanting to eat, she arranges the cars, she helps us with concerts, she’s doing everything all the time. I don’t know how much more I can take!”

She stepped back. Frozen in place. Her heart was beating out of her chest, hurting, aching, breaking just that little bit. Processing what he had said seemed to happen not at all and then suddenly all at once. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air. Anything but this suffocation. She needed to leave.

“I need some air.”

The words came out of her mouth much louder than anticipated, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that people were looking at her now. She didn’t care that was still wearing a pair of shoes that she had definitely not paid for yet. She just needed out, out, out, and away from all this. From him.

She didn’t realise she was walking on cobblestone until she wasn’t anymore, her ankle giving way, arms desperately trying to keep her from falling as she stumbled.

***

Damiano and Victoria stopped in their tracks as they heard someone approach from outside of the dressing room. Both heads turned towards the sound, when Y/n’s voice came through, telling maybe no one in particular that she needed some air. Her voice sounded strange. Damiano was convinced he had never heard that particular tone in it. As he threw back the curtain, he saw her stumble outside, clearly hectic, and he could feel a surge of panic run through him. Something wasn't right here. He forgot all about the conversation he was having, all about Victoria, and made his way outside. Not quite running, but the worry had him out of the door quickly. His heart sank when he saw her, lying on the floor just outside of the shop, holding her arm awkwardly, some scratches already beginning to bleed a little. As she looked up at him, he could see tears pricking at her eyes.

"Fuck, are you okay? What happened? I just saw-" The look on her face - or rather, the way she turned away from him - shut him up instantly. This wasn't the time to bombard her with questions. It didn't matter anyway. Instead of bothering her further, he quickly knelt down beside her, helping her sit up in return. He was acutely aware of the way she pulled away the second he touched her skin. Like she had been burned. ´

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry to ruin the shopping trip, you can go back in if you want to," she mumbled, trying to wipe some tears away but instead spreading some dirt and drying blood onto her cheek instead. Damiano wanted to touch her, clean her up, dry her tears, but the way she had pulled away a minute ago made him not want to try. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm her more. He watched as she pulled out her wallet, handing it to him. "Go pay for the shoes please. And stop looking at me like that, I said I’m fine."

Yet, as soon as she moved, she winced in pain, taking a deep breath before getting herself up to a standing position. He found himself holding her arm in support, but she only accepted it for as long as necessary. As he let go, she let out a small cry of pain, obviously holding her hurt wrist the wrong way.

“You’re obviously not fine,” Damiano sighed. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, but she was already in tears, turning away, and it simply didn’t seem like a sensible option. He looked around at the others as they gathered around Y/n. Only Thomas was missing, probably still blissfully unaware inside the shop and browsing for clothes. He tossed the wallet to Ethan. “Would you mind paying for her shoes real quick?” Ethan nodded, walking back into the store. Y/n was still standing between them, holding her arm close to her body in a protective gesture. Almost a similar expression to the one she had had on her face on the plane all those days ago. He wondered if something was scaring her the way the turbulence did back then.

“I am and will be fine, Damiano.” Her voice was stern. “I cry at a lot of things, this is no different. I wrap it up, put ice on it for a while and I’m golden.”

He watched as Victoria put a tentative hand on Y/n’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away from her touch, he noticed. “Y/n, that really doesn’t look like nothing. Look, it’s starting to swell up already.”

"What do you want me to do then?" She almost sounded resigned now as she looked back and forth between Damiano and Victoria. "We are in Amsterdam. I don't exactly have a GP on speed dial here. Now, where is Ethan with my wallet?"

She started walking towards the door of the shop, but Damiano defiantly held out his arm to stop her. "We are taking you to A&E."

Her face seemed to drain of all colour, and this time it was not because of the pain. "You are not taking me to a hospital."

Damiano looked at her, determination in his eyes, trying to make her understand that this was non-negotiable. Just for now, he would forget about the way she was brushing him off, the way she was evading his touch, the way she did not even want to look at him. Because right now she needed him and he would be there for her, if she wanted him to be or not.

"Yes, I am. Final decision. You would do the same for us if we got hurt. But we're responsible for you too, you're part of our crew, and right now, being responsible means getting this checked out. Besides, you're not getting your wallet back until you agree."

As soon as Ethan stepped outside again, this time with a slightly confused-looking Thomas in tow, Damiano snatched the wallet from his hands only to put it in his own jeans pocket. She was mad, obviously turning whatever was bothering her into anger, but Damiano was having none of it and he hoped the look in his eyes told her so.

"Fine! Take me to the hospital. But know that I am not happy about this."

"I don't need you to be. I just need you to come with me."

***

A quick refresher of her rudimentary Dutch verified that she was indeed looking for "spoedeisende hulp", another search on the internet confirmed that there was a hospital nearby, and before she knew it, she had been whisked into a taxi with Damiano. The others had decided to make their way back to the hotel, no point in clogging up the waiting room. Damiano promised to call with any news immediately.

Y/n wouldn't tell him, certainly not right then and there but she was happy that Damiano seemed to take the lead for once. She wouldn't have had any problems had any of the others needed medical help - but having people fuss about her? Making her the center of attention in a way she did not intend to be and having to accept help from others?... It was a completely different story. Still she appreciated the way he handled the situation, making sure she got registered with the administration straight away, listening attentively for further instructions, and leading her into the waiting area. She was also glad that it seemed to be quiet, not only because it would result in less of a wait, but also because the bustling would have made her all the more nervous.

This was out of her comfort zone. She had managed to avoid hospitals for the majority of her life, and yet here she was, because she panicked and couldn't handle her shoes. Looking down at them, she wanted to curse them. Curse the fact that they made her walk over to Damiano and Victoria in the first place, curse the fact that she had heard Damiano speak about her that way, curse the fact that they carried her out the door but not much further. She didn't even know where her actual shoes were. Hopefully, Ethan had kept his head and collected them on the way out after paying.

A few seats down, someone coughed loudly, reminding her exactly of where she was. It wasn't the worst hospital she had ever been in, that much was true, but she would rather not see one from the inside at all. She was dying for some comfort, some soothing words, a gentle touch, but as soon as Damiano made any attempt at reaching out to her she pulled back. His words were still heavily playing on her mind, the swelling of her wrist and the heat that seemed to seep from it a painful reminder. There was no way she was going to let herself fall, be reassured and consoled by him when he was so obviously sick of her presence. She wouldn't do that to either of them. Victoria with all her good intentions be damned. At least right now.

“Why are they not calling you in, it doesn’t even look like they’re doing anything,” Damiano grumbled next to her, eyes on the nurse’s station where a few of them were sitting. A few eyes were on them, something that looked like an excited discussion.

“Stop it, I’m sure they’re busy at work. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean they aren’t”, she bit back, slightly harsher than intended. He shot her a look, eyebrows raised, but she turned away, not looking to have a deeper conversation.

It left Damiano sitting in silence. Leaving both of them in the same situation, again. Y/n and him alone. Well, alone enough. Alone enough to not have anyone distract her from the uncomfortable feeling that settled over them. No Thomas being silly, no Victoria making a dumb comment, no calming presence of Ethan. Through this whole process, Y/n had basically crawled back into herself. She wished she could disappear.

She didn't know how much time had passed when they were finally called, too preoccupied with her own thoughts and the pain in her wrist. The nurse that beckoned them over had the warmest smile on her face, albeit tired eyes and it surprised Y/n how much comfort she found in the soft expression of the woman. White slacks, rolled up sleeves, pockets so full it looked like they were bursting at the seams, dark hair up in a bun. She found herself looking over at Damiano, wondering if he was aware of how gorgeous this woman was, how kind and calming her aura was, but his eyes were trained solely on her. She didn't allow herself to get lost in his gaze, quickly dropping hers and following the nurse into an examination room.

“Hi, I’m Ana, I’m going to be your nurse for today. You only speak English, am I correct?” She asked, gesturing for both of them to sit down, Y/n on the examination table and Damiano on a chair next to it. There was a slight twinge of an accent in her speech, but it was clear that she was fluent, which was a relief. Y/n didn’t even want to think about trying to get this done with the few words she knew in Dutch. She nodded, gratefully. “We’re going to go over what happened, and then I’ll do a physical examination, and the doctor will see you after as well.”

Y/n watched as the nurse fumbled with the computer, seemingly already typing things before Y/n had even said anything. “So, what exactly happened?”

“I, uh, tried on some heels and tripped on the cobblestone outside,” Y/n explained, taking a moment to glare at the offending shoes still on her feet. “Fell forwards, tried to soften the blow with my hands and now my wrist looks like this.” She held up the offending arm, gathering that the sight would speak for itself. The dried blood of the little scrapes on the palms of her hand did its best to make it look more dramatic than it felt.

“Oh, yeah that looks quite painful,” the nurse winced. “I see you’ve scraped your knee as well.”

Y/n looked down, slightly confused, only to realise her jeans had torn, revealing a beat-up knee underneath. Crap, she hadn’t even noticed, too occupied with… well, everything else. This felt like it was getting worse by the second, she never wanted to get back to a hotel room this badly. She felt like crying, but letting Damiano see her composure waver was the last thing she would allow.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed, moving her legs as if it gave her a chance of hiding her bruises.

“It’s not nothing, Y/n,” Damiano sighed next to her, before turning towards the nurse. “I think it’s more serious than she’s letting on.” In the same determined tone from before.

The nurse looked back and forth between the two of them. “It’s probably the shock of it.”

Oh yeah, the shock. Mainly that of finding out that Damiano didn’t want her around, apparently.

The nurse asked a few more questions, time of the accident, previous medical history, medication she was taking regularly, but they barely reached her. She found herself answering curtly, with Damiano filling in where he could. She wouldn’t tell him she was thankful for it. Even though the idea of him taking care of her made her emotional.

“Right, let’s get that wrist looked at then.” Y/n had feared it would be painful but as soon as the nurse started handling her? She knew it was her job to feel the joints, test her range of motion, move her arm. But unwelcome tears emerged in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to push Damiano’s hand away, as she almost reveled in the comforting touch on her back. The small talk didn’t even begin to make for a distraction. Yet, something was nagging at the back of Y/n’s head as she watched the nurse interact with Damiano. There was a familiarity in her eyes… Did she know who he was? Surely not.

“This will need an X-Ray to make sure it’s not broken,” the nurse concluded, finally letting go of her wrist. Damiano whispered a quiet ‘You okay?’ over to her, but she couldn’t do anything but nod. “I will bandage the scrapes a bit while we wait for a doctor. So, what brings you to Amsterdam today?”

“Work,” Y/n answered, trying to keep some degree of privacy, but Damiano didn’t seem to mind butting in immediately.

“I’m in a band, we’re on tour. She’s our assistant and overall angel.” She wanted to shoot him a look, both at the unnecessary honesty and the over-the-top way he was describing her, but a touch to her banged-up knee distracted her.

A doctor popped into the room quickly verified everything the nurse had told him And before she knew it she was being led down a hallway to get an X-Ray. Damiano stayed behind in the room.

“Cute couple, the two of you,” the nurse piped up next to her.

“Um, yeah, no. Not a couple. Just a working relationship.”

“You sure about that?”

Y/n almost wanted to stop dead in her tracks, ask the nurse what on earth had given her that idea, but she also knew she was here to get examined and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy the person responsible.

“Very. He doesn’t like me like that, he’s made that crystal clear.”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t look like you in a way that suggests he doesn’t like you. If anything, I would have guessed he was head-over-heels for you.”

Y/n was stumped for a reply. Was this woman making fun of her? She didn’t look like someone who would. So why would she say these things? With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Y/n decided she would have to talk to Damiano at some point. Have him either stand by his statement and back off, or explain what the hell he was doing. Because she was starting to lack comprehension about any of it.

She was glad the rest of the appointment seemed to fly by in a hurry, or maybe Y/n’s brain had simply gone into power-saving mode, not really taking it what as happening around her anymore. Her exhaustion was tangible. The X-Ray was done quickly enough, someone sent her back to the examination room, and before she knew it, the doctor had announced that it was, in fact, not broken. A quick wrap around her wrist, some instructions on how to care for it (that Damiano seemed to listen to more closely than she did), and she was almost out the door. She was sure she would have fallen asleep on the examination table. It was only the nurse quickly saying her goodbye and adding another comment that almost threw her off balance again.

“Bye, guys. And by the way, nice show yesterday. I promise I wasn’t the one who threw the bra.”

***

It was dark out by the time Y/n and Damiano made it back to the hotel. He had made sure to text the others, telling them to go for dinner without them, they’d be fine, and he figured she would need some rest. The hotel restaurant was quiet enough and he motioned towards it, but Y/n shook her head.

“I’ve got a few snacks in my room, but honestly, I’m not hungry at all. I just want to go to bed.”

Yet, tired as she was, it only took one pointed look for her to shut him up, so he simply nodded and led her towards the elevators.

“At least let me bring you to your room and see if you need any more help. And I can give you your wallet back.”

He could tell in the way she stiffened next to him, the way she barely reacted to his words, that she wasn’t keen on the idea, but he wouldn’t let her get away with it. He was desperate to find out what was bothering her and why she was so distant, but he couldn’t figure it out. Was the kiss still playing on her mind? Was she uncomfortable with him? It was the last thing he wanted. He needed to show her he was willing to be there for her.

Closing the door of her room behind him, a shout rang through the room.

“These fucking things, I hate them!” She was loud and angry while trying to get her shoes off, but her voice was wavering and if he watched her in just the right light he was convinced he was seeing the beginning of tears forming in her eyes.

“Shh, shh, it’s fine,” he tried to soothe, unsure if he was going about it the wrong way, but quickly bending in front of where she was sitting on the bed. She kicked her heels once more in frustration, obviously unable to get them off with her wrist still compromised.

“Don’t shush me when it’s all your fault,” she whispered and he almost stopped dead in his tracks, but he figured she hadn’t meant for him to hear. He stayed quiet, against everything in his heart telling him to find out what she was talking about. Instead, he focused on removing her shoes, gentle touches against her bare skin. Looking up at her, he realised that she was studying him, watching his every move, and he concentrated even harder on being the perfect gentleman. Yet, when he pulled the second shoe off her, he couldn’t help letting his hand rest on her calf a little longer than necessary.

“Come on, let’s get you into some pyjamas,” he decided, getting up and putting some distance between them. Too afraid of getting ahead of himself, of letting his hands wander more than appropriate places, of saying something he shouldn’t. He threw what he gathered to be her sleepwear in her general directions. “If you need any help changing because of your wrist, let me know.”

He hoped his smile was as sincere as he meant it. Either way, she didn’t give him much of a reaction, grabbing the clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. A few sharp hisses reached him through the door, but he knew better than to offer his help again.

He wasn’t sure what the acceptable place for him to sit was, but since the room didn’t offer anything but a worn-out armchair and the bed, he decided that choosing the far side of the mattress wasn’t too bad. He didn’t even realise she had left the en-suite until her voice reached him.

“We really need to talk, Damiano.” She sounded resigned and tired and he wished he could wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was alright, but it didn’t seem like the right time. As soon as she reached the side of the bed opposite him, she all but collapsed on it. She sleepily grabbed one of the many unnecessary hotel pillows they placed on the bed and nuzzled her face into it.

“There will be more than enough time for that tomorrow,” he replied, grabbing the blanket and making sure she was fully covered by it. “It’s been a long day, try to get some rest.”

She didn’t even manage to argue anymore, eyes already fluttering closed, breathing slowly becoming more steady. She was gorgeous like this. A soft calm overtaking the scene. No wall up that kept everyone else from her inner thoughts. No front that she put up in desperate attempts to remain professional. Just a softness etched into her features that highlighted her natural divine beauty.

He wanted to take her worries away. He hoped that whenever they did get to talk tomorrow, it would yield some clarity. The last thing he wanted was for her to ever feel this way. He had grown so attached to her, so obsessed with the idea of having her around, that he already feared the end of the tour. If she would give him any option to stay in her life, he would take it, whatever way it was.

Damiano barely noticed the way he was slipping down on the mattress, his fingers softly patting her head, eyelids getting heavy. The last thing on his mind was Y/n, sleeping soundly next to him and wishing for nothing but to make her happy.

***

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

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Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 4 years ago

Text

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #weasley twins x reader

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hops-hunny · 4 years ago

Text

Those Bloody Girls

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Beauxbaton!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: “I couldn't sleep soooo

Neville absolutely worshiping his beauxbaton gf but his friends think he's full of shit when he tries to tell them about how fucking gorgeous and fantastic she is. And everytime he tries to introduce her to his friends something goes wrong and his friends end up looking at him like he's crazy cuz he's introducing absolutely nothing but air. And separately she has been accidentally meeting all his friends one on one, helping Ron pick up his books in the hall, cleaning off some soot from Seamus face because he looked rather silly, encouraging harry before one of his quidditch matches/Triwizard trials etc and all the while they have no idea that's Nevilles wonderful gf and they all develop a crush on her never telling each other anything so when they finally meet her it's hilarious 😂

-🦡”

Summary: The request says it all

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was such a fun idea. I loved writing this all hail 🦡 anon.

If there was anything Beauxbaton girl's were known for, it was their beautiful looks. They were graceful and diligent, each one graced with the face of an angel, and Neville just so happened to have the prettiest one. They had met during the summer by a complete chain of accidents resulting in one of the greatest blessings he could've ever asked for. Neville was lucky and he knew it, never letting anyone forget.

"Oh bullshit! You're saying she's got a cute face, nice waist, and she can bake? Ha! I'll believe it when I see it, Nev." Ron snorted, Seamus nodding along with him.

"Yeah you expect us to just believe a girl from Beauxbaton of all places chose you? No offense Nev but Beauxbaton girl's have standards and none of us Hogwarts boys meet em." Seamus said, shrugging as he continued to throw rolled up bits of paper in Dean's hair (who still hadn't noticed.). Neville rolled his eyes in irritation, looking to Harry and Dean as well but for once, they were on the same page as the other two.

"Sorry Nev. It's just, a Beauxbaton girl? And from the way you describe it, the most beautiful one in her year if not school?" Harry said, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Yeah mate. You've gotta understand where we're coming from." Dean chimed, turning his attention back to the assignment in his lap. Neville groaned, glaring at his friends.

"You guys act like I haven't tried to introduce you to her! Every time I try to you guys go and get yourselves into something stupid or I end up busy. Let's all agree that Friday you will meet her, no matter what." the boys all nodded in agreement, not really thinking much of it. After all, there was no girlfriend but if it'd ease his mind, they'd show up.

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

Ron swore angrily, rolling his eyes in frustration. It was just his luck that he'd drop all his quills and the massive scroll of paper rolling away with his bits of sanity. Normally he'd just collect them and go on with it, not really worrying about time but for once in his god damn life he had made an effort to study for the exam he had next hour and if he was late? All that bloody time would be wasted! However, his worries began to fade as a small manicured (s/c) hand began to gather his quills. His eyes widened as he looked at the girl, mouth gaping.

She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was an even more vibrant (h/c) in the afternoon sun. Beautiful plush (s/c) thighs (that he'd like to see more from under that little skirt), and not to mention the most beautiful set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But when she smiled? Oh when she smiled, he was hooked. The little emblem on her shirt confirmed his suspicion. Beauxbaton. However what he did miss was the words that were currently leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry...what?" he asked, causing a giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth. She smiled, handing him the quills that he had dropped.

"I said it's a shame that this happened to you! I hope you aren't too late. I have a free period so I'll carry these to your class for you!" she offered, silence falling over them as he continued to stare at her in awe. His face flushed as she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly.

"O-oh! Right, yes, thank you. That'd be helpful." He offered her a small smile as he began to walk. The entire time of the walk there, she helped him by quizzing him on the subject and by the time he got there, he felt like he remembered everything!

Everything but asking for her name. He felt like an idiot but for once, it wasn't because of school.

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

Seamus sat at the cauldron, focusing on the ingredients list. His partner had decided from every other time in potions, that he wasn't allowed to touch anything. They had a perfect grade and didn't want it to be ruined from the likes of him. However, he was growing restless. It couldn't be too hard...right? Wrong, so wrong.

He dropped in a few spider legs, stirring counterclockwise like the book had instructed. However, as it turned an angry red and bubbles began to form, he knew that he had screwed up big time. He tried backing away but it was too late, the potion had erupted in a large explosion, black soot coating his face and hair. Everyone in the class turned to look at him, some laughing while some were utterly annoyed. This was such a common thing that it was a miracle when he didn’t blow something up. He flashed Snape a bright smile, ignoring the way the vein on the man’s forehead twitched and juttered in annoyance.

“Class dismissed.” he seethed out. Before he could issue a punishment, Seamus ran off down the hallway ignoring the harsh yells of the potion’s master. He continued to run and run until he accidentally bumped into a group of girls sending him straight to the floor. His face turned rouge with embarrassment as they laughed at his scuffed appearance but a divine voice broke through the laughter.

“Leave him alone guys! You all go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.” she said, pushing her friends to go ahead in the other direction. Seamus looked up, admiring how beautiful they were but especially the (h/c) haired one in the middle of them all. She was a walking sculpture, a painting straight from the louvre. She was..

“Hot.” he blattered out, not even realizing his words. His eyes widened as he stood up clearing his throat. Luckily for him she hadn’t heard him, causing him to look up to the ceiling and give a quick thank to Merlin himself. She looked back at him, frowning slightly as she observed the soot on his freckled face. Her eyes lit up as she reached into the small purse on her shoulder, pulling out a silk fabric.

“Can’t have you going around looking all silly! Come here.” she said, motioning for him to lean down. He did so instantaneously, cheeks turning even more red as she licked the small fabric before beginning to wipe at the mess on his face. It was an action his mother had done multiple times but for some reason, he found this to be far more endearing. Her face was close to his, giving him a good look at the light layer of gloss on her plump lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kissed them before, if she had ever had them wrapped around a-

“All done! I can’t do much for your hair but it’s not that noticeable. I have to get going though, bye!” She said flashing him a smile before walking away. When she was out of sight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that had even happened. Did a beautiful girl really just hold his face and clean it...out of the kindness of her heart? Was it truly possible for someone to look so perfect and act so kind? He didn’t know but he surely did wanna find out. He smirked to himself, standing up straight as he walked down the hall.

“She wants me.”

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

Harry splashed some water on his face, running a shaky hand through his hair. No matter how many times he’d hop on that broom, zooming around in the sky with the intent to win, he always got painstakingly nervous before a match. He observed his appearance, grimacing at the sickly green undertone to his face. Was he going to puke again? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time. Sighing he walked out the bathroom, sneaking to observe how many people were in the crowd. His eyes began to wander to the Beauxbaton girls, admiring how pretty they were in the stands. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for a pretty face to walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, right?” she asked, a gentle smile on her stunning face. His breath hitched as he felt himself be taken by a new set of nerves.

“R-right. Yeah that’s me. I’m, I’m Harry.” he internally kicked himself. How embarrassing. One of the most lovely girls he had ever seen and here he was, making himself look like a fool. His nerves were soothed some when he heard her laugh, a sound like beautiful Christmas bells.

“I think we already established that.” she said, grinning even more. She patted his shoulder as she looked at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No need to be nervous. I’ve heard you’re one of the best players on the field! Do your best out there! I’m rooting for ya.” she began walking off, flipping her Gryffindor scarf around her shoulder. Whether she meant rooting for him personally or the team didn’t matter. A determined look took his face as he began to make his way to his team. He was going to win this, for her.

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

Friday came around quicker than any of them had expected, not like it mattered to them. They all sat around looking at each other, a shared thought running through most of their heads. As if Neville could hear it, he groaned standing up angrily.

“Guys! I swear she’s real! She’s just running a bit late, she’s horrible with time management. Plus, she’s well known amongst her peers so she’s always getting asked to help with things.” he grumbled, staring at them with disdain.

“Nev, it’s okay you don’t have to keep lying. We’ll get you a girlfriend since clearly you’re going mad thinking that you have one.” Seamus said, prompting the boy to throw his textbook at the boy which hit his head with a loud thud. They all looked up as peach colored owl flew in, dropping a note into Neville’s hand. The boys set up a bit straighter, unfamiliar with the owl. The boy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words before nodding.

“Alright, it seems she wants us to come to her. She’s by the fountain in the courtyard! That’s cute, she forgot she was supposed to come to me.” he chuckled fondly at the thought of his forgetful girlfriend before turning to walk. His friends still sat on the couch, stunned that this girl might actually be real. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go!”

All of them scrambled up and began to follow their lanky friend, mumbling amongst themselves.

“No way. Do you think she’s real?”

“Well I’ve never seen that owl!”

“This is insane. Okay if she’s real, she definitely can’t be as hot as he said she is.”

“Yeah probably one of the more...unsightly Beauxbaton girls.”

Wrong. Terribly wrong. Th-that was her? It couldn’t be. However, as the girl’s big doe eyes lit up it was slowly becoming a big possibility. And as she ran to him, jumping into his arms, that possibility became reality right in front of their eyes. Neville leaned in kissing the girl, holding her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as she pulled away. Her eyes turned to the group of guys, surprise taking over her face. Neville looked back and forth between her expression and the one of his friends.

“You guys alright?” he asked confusedly, setting the girl back on the ground before pulling her into his side. She eyed them carefully before tilting her head.

“Have we met before?”

“NO!” they all shouted in unison. They all turned to each other in confusion, stepping away from the happy couple.

“You met her too?!” Harry whisper shouted, eyeing the other two. Ron nodded frantically, unable to respond verbally due to the shock and queasiness overtaking him. The beautiful girl from Wednesday was Neville’s girl? Life was not being fair by putting that bird in his hands.

“Like hell I did! She was practically all over me.” Seamus exclaimed, all of them turning to look at the girl who had a lovesick look on her face as Neville rambled on about something.

“Okay now that one I doubt. I can’t fucking believe this. I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Ron groaned out, crossing his arms angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, grabbing the flask that Seamus had pulled out taking a big swig of it.

“You’re telling me. I did a lot more than think about her if you know what I mean.” Seamus mumbled, eyeing the girl’s rear.

“Sadly I do and I wish I didn’t.” Harry grimaced as the gruesome image popped up in his head. “Come on, we better head back over before they think something is up.”

“My bunny says she met you all earlier in the week! How come you didn’t tell me?” he questioned, watching as the boys practically drooled over her.

“I dunno sorta...slipped my mind.” Harry trailed off, eyes dragging along her exposed midriff.

“Nah I’ll be honest. Bird was too hot and didn’t get her name. ‘S a shame really.” Seamus shrugged, earning a kick to the knee from Harry. “What?! I know you thought it too. Congrats Longbottom, you’ve got a grade A girl there.”

Neville looked down at the smaller girl, smiling some as she looked away shyly at the kind words she was receiving.

“Yeah, I do.”

#neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x y/n #Neville Longbottom #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #🦡anon

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years ago

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Marinette The Perfect Daughter In Law: A Prompt

[ I've seen a few ‘everyone loves Marinette AU’s’ and a couple Marvel DC ‘all the mentors want THEIR kid to end up with Marinette AU’s’ and well frankly! I felt inspired! So I present to you my new prompt / AU thing! In which all the most powerful / rich / popular people in Paris decide to play matchmaker… ]

It starts when Adrien and Kagami have a less than AMICABLE break up according to their parents and the media anyway in reality it was a really REALLY dull break up. The pair have been ‘dating’ (using each other as an excuse to go out and experience normal teenage stuff) since they were 15. Now at 17 soon to be 18 the pair decided to publicly break up in order to pursue other people and interests. The problem is they never told their parents the truth so both Gabriel and Kagami’s mother Tomeo feel protective and concerned about what must surely be an upsetting first heartbreak for their child. And okay maybe both parents take that out on each other and both get a bit defensive and protective. And MAYBE it ends with Tomeo vowing to get revenge for her daughter. Enter, Marinette. Up and coming fashion designer for the rich and famous! She’s single, talented, and as far as Tomeo knows Gabriel is interested in the girl for her talent. So what better revenge could exist but having Marinette take an interest in Kagami!

Kagami has no idea why her mother suddenly has an interest in Marinette but she wont complain about having more time with her very cute designer friend. And all the outfits Tomeo is paying Marinette to make for Kagami is giving the young fencer plenty of up-close and personal moments with Marinette. And okay Marinette is VERY cute and Kagami wont question why she suddenly has all this tine with Marinette, eating ice cream with the girl and having brunch. But she knows shes absolutely head over heels when Marinette shows up at her fencing tournament gives her a luck charm and cheers her on wearing HER colors. Obviously Kagami wiped the floor with all the competition she cant be seen hesitating in front of Marinette!

On Tomeo’s side of things she makes sure that the paparazzi still lurking around after Kagami and Adrien’s breakup catch photos of what could easily be interpreted as dates between the girls. After all this is a revenge ploy but also Marinette is fantastic so Tomeo is 300% down with Kagami ‘bringing her into the family’ something she tells Kagami after the first paparazzi ‘date photos’ leak into the news. Kagami still has no idea this was an orchestrated affair and just thinks her mothers caught on to her feelings and is overjoyed that Marinette is approved of because after the cheek kiss Marinette gave her for winning the fencing tournament Kagami was preparing to fight her mother for the right to pursue the young designer seriously. After all she never hesitates!

But Tomeo never realized Gabriel isnt the only one interested in Marinette. Audrey Bourgeouis has been keeping an eye on Marinette trying to find a way to get Marinette on to her side and away from Gabriel. So when she sees the photos of Kagami and Marinette she sees an opportunity. After all if Marinette isnt exclusively into men (and those photos of her flushed cheeks as Kagami cleans ice cream off her bottom lip are a clear indication shes not) then Audrey smells opportunity. After all Marinette was Chloe’s first crush! How cute would that be! The next day Marinette is being offered yet another opportunity to intern under Audrey this time with much looser restrictions. When Marinette accepts she suddenly finds herself working with Chloe… A LOT. The pair are modeling together, often paired together for shoots in perfect complementary clothes that screams ‘opposites attract’. Chloe is also helping manage Marinette’s brand and the two start to get along very well. The model photos and their business lunches are soon plastered alongside the Kagami and Marinette outings with parisian gossip blogs finding their interest picked by this potential love triangle.

Chloe for one, was confused at first. Sure she knew her mom was interested in Marinette but she never thought SHE would be working so closely with her first crush. And Chloe tries to ignore it, after all those are dead feelings! And Marinette woud never forgive her anyway so why even- Wait. Is that Marinette in a downright gorgeous golden dress? A-and she will be posing right next to Chloe for their shared shoot? Well… Chloe always thought herself deserving of royalty and damn if Marinette aint the princess of her dreams. Sorry Adriken’s you had your chance to get the girl, but now its winner keeps all and Marinette is the only prize shes interested in. For the record Alya is freaked out by Chloe being nice, but shes more weirded out by Chloe being protective and handsy and downright shamelessly flirty with Marinette. Audrey is pleased when she hears the news and is quick to give her daughter encouragement acting as if none of this was premeditated at ALL.

Oh but they have no idea that this is just the beginning. Because guess who's moved back into town. Adrien’s favorite cousin and aunty. And Felix’s mom is quite the busybody and dammit Felix needs friends! And maybe a cute girlfriend! And oh whos that pretty girl on the magazine cover? Marinette? The one her celebrity connections have nothing but praise for? Perfect! Shes invited to lunch with Felix and herself on friday to discuss movie costumes! And oh Audrey dear dont you think Marinette would look fabulous sandwiched between TWO blondes! Felix hasnt modeled in a while but come now. So suddenly Marinette is being spotted with Felix guiding him about paris and modeling with him AND Chloe under AUDREY’s brand NOT Gabriels.

Felix thought hed really hate Marinette; he tried to ignore her he really did. But shes funny, witty and sweet. Not to mention trustworthy, so a good candidate for a business partner. And thats it, but then he has to admit hes impressed when he rolls up to a photoshoot and Chloe! The definition of brat personified is acting… Bearable. Yes, somehow Marinette has done the impossible! She has tamed the beast known as Chloe. And yes fine he will admit shes drop dead gorgeous and how intelligent of her to learn all sides of the fashion industry and boost her rep with modelling! Soon hes spending more time with her, he tries to argue he needs a guide, that shes the most bearable person to be with! That she is just a friend- Oh god. No it cant be! He sounds like-! Like ADRIEN! And Chloe already told him about THAT mess! No! Absolutely not! He will not lead on Marinette like his idiot cousin! Marinette is a rare and beautiful woman! She could be his queen! And god he has to admit it much as he loathes too Marinette’s smile is enough to make him thank every non-existent god. He will win her heart, show her that she deserves better than his brain dead cousin! Felix is sure mother will approve of his decision to pursue the girl, now he just needs to do more shoots with Marinette...

And that's what finally gets Gabriel to snap. Because REALLY Felix!? Is there no loyalty to FAMILY. Not to mention he was totally drafting a potential contract for Marinette when Audrey snapped her up the witch! But its fine! Marinette has always been interested in Adrien! Surely she still is? Surely she's not been swayed by any of her new suitors! Right? Gabriel knows he can't mess with Audrey’s contract so he goes through Adrien, freeing up his sons schedule and telling him to spend time with Marinette to help her ‘adapt’ to the harsh world of fashion and modeling. He uses Adrien’s heroic nature to make it sound like hed be saving her from Chloe and Felix. And sure enough Adrien bites, using his friendship with Chloe to worm into fittings, meetings, and photo shoots. At first hes just there to make sure Chloe and Felix arent hurting sweet Marinette. But when he sees the blondes fighting for her attention, flirting with her, posing with her in some rather romantic settings. Suddenly hes less worried and more… Jealous? No! Not him! Hes concerned, confused, suspicious! Obviously he needs to spend more time with Mari- Wait! When did Kagami get here to take Marinette to lunch! And why are they all ignoring him!!!

Now Marinette is fully in the public's eye. Gossip blogs are being fed bits of info writing up each ‘candidates’ appeal as THE romantic partner to the Marinette Dupain-Cheng paris new darling, the girl with a heart of gold too oblivious to see the trail of hearts following her around! But there is still another contender yet to enter the game! Jaggeds been away on tour teaching Luka his up and coming protege all the tricks. And lets not lie Luka has his own fans now, enough to rival all the others. Jagged sees Luka as his own son, even calling him as much! Hell hes even adopted Luka and Juleka and when I say adopted I mean Jagged literally got shared custody of the kids when their real dad tried to start trouble once Luka started gaining fame. Luka and Juleka for one love their adopted father and his wonderful fiance Penny. But back to Jagged, being Jagged.

The moment Jagged is back in Paris he's checking up on his favorite designer and hopefully future daughter in law! When… WHAT'S THIS?! All the other ritchies in Paris are playing his game! Trying to get Marinette married into THEIR families! Not rock and roll at all! He was here first! And so being Jagged he decides to make Luka’s stake in the race for Marinette’s heart clear! By spamming social media with photos of Marinette being cute with Luka, taking his measurements, going out with him, the pair babying Fang, the two passed out against each other after a long concert. And he has photos going back at least a year or two! Soon Luka’s fans pick up the hype starting a trending hashtag finding the pair cute! Jagged feels confident that hes won! When Audrey retaliates, and from there its a complete train wreck. Before long each pair has a hashtag filled with cute moments and arguing over whos dating the model / fashion designer!

Meanwhile Adrien is drowning in denial as he goes through each hashtag seething about how many MORE photos everyone else has with Marinette, when HE is her very good friend and was here first! Felix, Chloe and Kagami on the other hand have declared open war after they tried to talk to each other about the hashtags reasonably only for it to devolve into “so you agree Marinette is best with me!” - “WHAT! No! Thats not what I said! Besides she clearly is best with me!” - “Ridiculous!” And so on. Poor Luka is having an entirely different reaction hiding in shame unsure how to face Marinette because he WAS going to ask her on a proper date now that she seems over Adrien, because even with everything she's the melody playing in his heart and he had a plan! But now his mom and sister are texting him and teasing him and apparently he has MORE competition! Who do these people think they are to deserve Marinette! No! Luka won't lose Jagged has been teaching him to be bold and confident! And Marinette is worth all of his efforts! Jagged REGRETS NOTHING even if Penny confiscated the tv remote!

Marinette meanwhile has no idea what's going on because the whole class made a dumb bet on when the designer would notice with one of the bet conditions being that no one could tip Marinette off and that they have to keep her away from Paparazzi so they dont spoil it either. And sense Alya is helping manage Marinette’s social media Marinette hasn't looked at it yet so she has NO idea what's happening. But her birthday is coming up next week and Chloe definitely didn't get dibs on planning a surprise party for her all so she could spoil the girl and RUB her GREAT relationship with Marinette into her competitions FACES! The competition however (and Adrien JustAfriend Agreste) have decided that they really aren't going down without a fight!

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#my fic #kagaminette #lukanette #adrienette #chlonette #chloenette #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #everyone loves marinette #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #felinette #felix graham de vanily #chloe sugar #chloe bourgeois #ml prompt

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago

Text

little mystery

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: tattoos, alcohol consumption, gambling/betting money, mild swearing (i actually don't think there is any but just in case), baby spence!!, no smut/or implied smut but it reads a little dirty (so i’m gonna rate this 18+ anyway) Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Bets are placed to see who can be the first to figure out the secret location of your tattoo, and what the tattoo is.

A/N: i was browsing pinterest for my next ink inspiration (the whole country is currently in lockdown, but a girl can dream), when i stumbled across a particular tattoo, featured in this fic, and this idea just came to me ah i hope you ENJOY!

“A recent study concluded that people with tattoos are more likely to be so called experience seekers, and they tend to lean more towards rebellious, non-conforming lifestyles.” Spencer stated glancing between the group. His eyes lingering a little longer on you. “Research also shows, people who choose to get tattooed feel a stronger need to claim their identity and stand out from the crowd.”

Derek chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “Kid, not everyone that has a tattoo is an attention seeker or a criminal. Many who get inked lead perfectly normal and stable lives.”

“It’s a form of self expression.” Morgan continued. “It doesn't necessarily mean people with multiple tattoos are wildings. I mean look at Y/N, she’s got like ten and she's far from a non-conformist.”

All heads turned in your direction.

“Ten is an over exaggeration Morgan.” You replied with a light giggle before looking directly at Spencer. “It’s eight. I have eight tattoos.” You said shooting him a smile. A mix of intrigue quickly spread across his features.

Of course, he was aware you had a couple of tattoos. Like the tiny heart on your left index finger. The crescent moon just above your right elbow. Or the rose on the inside of your left bicep. Given that the two of you were similar in age, the young doctor didn't think you would have that many.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a huge difference.” He teased, granting Penelope to nudge him in the arm. The bubble blonde then turned to you. “You have eight tattoos?” She asked with a raised brow. “How come I didn't know this about you? I know everything.”

“Because you never asked me and eight really isn't that much. Plus they’re all pretty simple and dainty. Well... actually... all apart from the snake slithering between my boobs.” You responded nonchalantly causing the males at the table to simultaneously choke on their drinks.

The girls all whistled before erupting into laughter at the suddenly red faces of the three boys. Hotch stared silently at the half-empty class in his hands, Derek nervously cleared his throat, while Spencer gaped at you completely wide-eyed.

The image you just painted circulating in his mind.

“Don’t be shy, tell us, any other risqué body art?” Emily chimed once the laughter died down.

“Uhm, there is one but I really don't think it’s appropriate to share.” You answered, a sly smile circling your lips. JJ and Emily both groaned at your response. “Now you have too!” The blonde exclaimed, but you just shook your head.

“Only a handful of people know what it is, and where it is.” Your eyes locked briefly with the brunette doctor sat across from you. Not enough time for anyone at the table to notice, but enough to get him a tiny bit flustered.

“What if we guessed?” Emily enquired, her eyes sparkling mischievously. You giggled. “If one of you manages to guess both what and where it is, I will tell you whether you’re correct.”

“I want in on this little bet.” Derek chimed confidently. “I can get you talkin’ hot stuff.” He shot you a playful wink and took another sip of his drink. Hotch snickered next to him. “I wouldn't be so certain Morgan.” “Oh, and you think you can?” Derek asked sarcastically. “Maybe.” Hotch poised, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” JJ clapped her hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Everyone that wants to take part place a ten dollar bet on themselves, and the winner will take the pot.” She turned to you. “We’ll give you the money for safekeeping and once one of us guesses correctly, you can rightfully pass the cash onto that person.”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied with a grin. “But what if none of you guess? Who keeps the money then?” “Do you forget who you work with? We’re FBI agents, profilers, one of us is bound to figure it out.” Morgan stated making you giggle.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Oh! And whoever wins gets to see this mysterious ink of yours.” Emily added teasingly.

Just like that a pile of cash formed in the middle of the table. You reached out to grab it when a hand slowly slid across with a neatly folded ten dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes snapped up to meet the determined gaze of none other than the resident genius.

“I want to take part too.” He said, trying his best not to appear jittery. The grin currently embellishing your features swelled, and Spencer took note of the devilish sparkle in your eyes. “Well all right.” You responded, fingers brushing lightly against his as you retrieved the money. An instant spark tingled through both you and Spencer.

The night carried on. You were bombarded with questions that would give the team any sort of clue as to what the tattoo could be, but you didn't budge. It was a lot more fun seeing your friends struggle. The only person that didn't say anything further on the matter was the young doctor sat across from you. In true Spencer Reid fashion, he simply listened and observed.

About an hour later, he accompanied you to the bar for another round of drinks. After ordering for everyone, you quickly glanced at him. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” You asked causing him to break away from his thoughts and turn his attention to you. He lightly scrunched his nose.

“I’m just wondering when is the most appropriate time to tell everyone what your secret tattoo is.”

Your mouth parted ever in shock, eyes widened. “There is no way you know.”

“Actually, I not only know what and where it is. I also know when you got it and why.” He stated confidently.

“Alright then, tell me.” You challenged taking a step towards him. Spencer stiffened for a brief moment. Your sudden closeness caused the heat to rush to his face and his heart to skip a beat. All he could do was hope you didn't notice; which of course you did.

With a raised brow and your fingers tapping lightly on the wooden bar, you waited for Spencer to respond. You were about to say something like, ‘See, I knew you were bluffing.’, but he cleared his throat. Regaining his confidence.

“It’s the word ‘bite’ written in cursive on your ehm, on your left b-buttcheek. And you got it your freshmen year of university as a result of a drunken game of truth or dare with your friends. I believe it was either getting the tattoo or shaving your head.” He was, of course, correct. Every word.

You stared at him in disbelief. This you definitely did not expect. Spencer on the other hand seemed quite pleased with himself. It’s not often he’s the one to rattle you.

“H-how, how did you-” You shook your head. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” Your lips twirled into a smile. “Congratulations doctor.” Without really thinking, you leaned in closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek causing once again for the blood to rush to his face. Once you pulled away, his hand immediately travelled to the spot.

“What, uhm, what was that for?” He asked and you shrugged. “An extra prize considering it didn't even take you ninety minutes to win. I hope that was okay?” He quickly nodded his head. “Ye-a, yes.” “Good.” And with that you kissed his cheek again.

He couldn't help but grin proudly as the two of you ambled back to the table, each holding a tray of drinks.

“What’s got you so happy, kid?” Morgan asked, drawing attention to Spencer’s expression.

“Spencer just won your little bet.” You replied, placing the tray down and reaching into your purse for the money. Although his win was definitely part of the reason for his increased good mood, it had more to do with the spot on his cheek that was still tingling from your kiss. But he’d never say that out loud.

Gasps of shock echoed through the team. “What?! There is no way he’s won already!” JJ exclaimed. “He cheated. Did you give him extra hints because you have a soft spot for him?” Emily accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Nope.” Your mouth popped. “He definitely won fair and square.” You stated before shifting your body weight to look the young doctor. Smiling, you handed him his winnings. He didn't hesitate to take them, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well pretty boy, what is it?!” Derek enquired eagerly. Spencer waited for you to nod your head before turning to address the team. He revealed the design and location of your secret tattoo in one breath as you watched, finding their reactions amusing.

“How did you figure that out?” Penelope asked.

“A little mystery never hurt.” You chimed before Spencer got a chance to respond, and proceeded to intertwine your fingers with his. His head snapped first down at your glued hands, and then up at your face. He wanted to ask what was happening, completely forgetting what else the winning prize entailed, as you were leading him away from the table.

Morgan and Emily whistled after the two of you, the rest of the group laughing.

It wasn't until you were walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind, that the realisation hit Spencer. He swallowed his breath and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

You quickly noticed the nervous look on his face. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to. If you’re uncomfortable.” You said in your usual kind and caring tone.

“No, uhm, it’s okay. B-but if you don't want to?” He mumbled. “I don’t have to see it if you don’t want to show me, or anyone for that matter. We can just pretend.”

You smiled at him, your hands travelling to the zipper of your jeans. “A bet’s a bet, and like I said, you won fair and square.”

“Y-you, are you sure you don't want to know how I figured it out?” Spencer asked, voice breaking. The palms of his hands began to sweat. He wasn't sure where to look. Did you want him looking directly at you? Or was he supposed to keep his attention on something else until you were ready to show the tattoo?

“A little mystery never hurt.” You repeated what you said earlier to the group and pulled your pants down, just low enough to display the tattoo in question.

Spencer’s gaze landed on the writing. At this point his heart was hammering inside of his chest, and he was sure it would explode any second. His eyes widened as he slowly licked his lips. He was sure this was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you like it?” A seemingly innocent question, although the intention behind it was anything but.

Spencer nodded his head. “I-I...y-es, I do.” His eyes gradually moved up your body until they once again locked with your gaze. His pupils now flared.

A mischievous smirk escaped your mouth. “I always knew you had a naughty side, doctor.”

spencer reid taglist: spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner

masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #little mystery fic

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

Text

utopia- peter maximoff

yeah... im back being in love with Peter <3 enjoy loves <3

word count: 3k

warnings: angst and fluff, wandavision spoilers

id be open to writing more parts if anyone was interested <3 (I wrote this at 4am if it’s all over the place im sorry)

masterlist

You didn’t know much, but one thing was for certain; you didn’t belong here.

This morning you had opened your eyes and were met with a town that seemed like the very definition of the suburban dream. Your mind screamed at you as soon as you came to in the strange and indisputably new environment, telling you that this town was your home. The fact that you couldn’t remember anything before your eyes had fluttered open didn’t fill you with the utmost confidence about the legitimacy of the voice in your head, or the utopia that surrounded you.

All you knew was that you came here to look for someone. This someone was someone very important to you and you had a feeling that you were exactly where you needed to be to find this someone. There was one minor problem though; you didn’t have a clue who this special someone was, just that you needed to find him.

Cautiously, you found yourself wandering the town that seemed to be lost in time. All of its residents dressed like they were all attending an 80s themed party, yourself included. You couldn’t recall pulling on the ridiculous getup but that voice told you not to worry about it. It wasn’t long before you were in the middle of the town square, people bustled around you happily, all of them eerily going about their day as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Nobody looked stressed or sad or anything other than animatedly happy.

The realisation caused a slight panic to begin in your chest, there was something very wrong happening here and you didn’t know what. The very second you began to show anything that didn’t come across as positively blissful, the voice you’d been hearing since you opened your eyes sounded in your brain, louder than ever.

You are happy here. WestView is home. You are home.

Despite her soothing tone, you weren’t convinced.

“Who are you?” You demanded out loud, whipping your head in all directions, eyes set in a glare as you watched the citizens of the town acting none the wiser to your question.

Within seconds a woman appeared before you, a sweet smile on her face and two children by her side. “Hey there, you must be the new neighbour.” She spoke kindly, something familiar about the woman caused you to immediately relax in her presence although that relaxation felt somewhat… forced.

With a hesitant nod you looked around again, you brought your eyes back to the little family and offered them your best friendly smile, “It seems I must be, yeah.”

The lady giggled and held her hand out towards you, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wanda. And these two are Billy and Tommy.” You took her hand in yours, suddenly overwhelmed with an influx of thoughts that didn’t seem to be yours. Suddenly you were giving Wanda the most sparkling smile you could manage, not entirely sure why your mouth had formed such a smile for a complete stranger.

“Pleasure to meet you all.” Were the only words you could manage, still riddled with confusion as to what was going on.

Wanda returned your smile, Billy and Tommy seemed almost enamoured by you as they both stared at the new arrival. Glancing at her boys, Wanda knew she’d have to keep a very close eye on you, you were a mutant and stronger than even you knew, hard to control. But she had let you through her barricade as soon as she realised who you were and why you came.

“What’s your name?” Billy had asked and Wanda grew nervous as she noticed your eyes lose their smile for a second as you blanked on the simple question.

What was your name? It took you a moment or two before you regained your composure and extended your arm to the little boy in front of you who shook it excitedly, “Y/n. My name is Y/n, it’s really nice to meet you two.”

“Say, would you like to come and have dinner with us?” Wanda offered and you nodded your head gratefully.

“Dinner would be lovely. I’m feeling quite airy today, a good feed might help.” You told her with a laugh.

You walked to what you assumed to be Wanda’s residence, Billy and Tommy spoke excitedly to you as you walked, the pair of them strolled on either side of you fighting for your attention and entertaining you as they constantly tried to one up each other.

“You’re so cool! I can’t wait for uncle piet to meet you!” Tommy commented, prompting a soft smile from Wanda and an agreeing nod from Billy.

With a laugh you ruffled the boys’ hair, “Uncle Piet, huh? I bet I’m way cooler than that guy.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Wanda laughed, her hold on you lessening as you began to relax on your own accord.

It only took a few more minutes until the four of you arrived at their house. As you entered you took a second to take in the interior, the 80s theme not as glaringly out of place to you as it had been earlier.

“Vis! Pietro! I’m home and I’ve brought a guest!” Wanda’s sweet voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Uncle Piet hurry up! Come meet our new friend!”

“Come on! Come on! Hurry up!”

Billy and Tommy yelled up the stairs impatiently and you smiled fondly at the boys, crossing your arms over your chest as you anticipated meeting ‘the funnest guy in the whole world’.

“M’coming! Jeez.” The deep voice made you freeze. For the first time since you arrived in WestView you could finally say you recognised something.

The thumping of feet running down the stairs had your heart beating out of your chest and when you finally came face to face with the man the twins had praised so highly you thought your ribs were at risk of breaking from how rapidly it was pumping.

The man looked at the twins, expectantly, “Alright. Where’s the one making you two so excited?” He hadn’t noticed you yet.

With a shaky breath, it bagan coming back to you, he was the someone you were looking for. He wasn’t just someone special, he was your love. And there he stood, silver hair unkempt as usual and his signature grin painted his lips.

“She’s-“ Billy started but Peter cut him off.

“She? You guys get yourself a lil girlfriend? Huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that left you. He was still your Peter. Funny, lighthearted, great with children and not completely thoughtless behind his gorgeous doe eyes like the rest of the town’s residents.

The airy laugh caused a shiver to run up his spine. No, you couldn’t be here. Not you. But he knew without even turning his head that it was you, his girl, the love of his life. The loyalist person he’d ever had the privilege of being able to love. Of course you’d follow him to a whole different reality.

He whipped his head in your direction, his mouth falling open as his eyes landed on your form, your eyes shining the way they always did when you’d see him after a long mission.

“Peter?” The boy felt his heart crack as your expression dissolved into something between confusion and panic. He quickly zoomed over to you and pulled you into him, pressing your head into the crook of his neck to hide your expression from Wanda who had yet to return from the kitchen.

His lips hovered close to your ear, “Pietro, you have to call me Pietro. I’ll explain everything, I promise just act natural for me, alright?” He murmured, moving his hand comfortingly up and down your back, aware that the twins were watching Peter pulled away but wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you forced yourself to smile as the pair of you faced the boys.

“How’d you guys manage to find my girlfriend in this dump?” He asked jokingly, smirking proudly as their faces dropped.

Billy glared and raised his little eyebrow at his uncle, “Your girlfriend?”

“You were right, you two. He definitely is the funnest person but I still win in the cool department.” You said, laughing nervously and hoped you weren’t being too conspicuous.

“Oh come on,” Peter groaned, “I haven’t seen you in forever and you’re already making fun of me in front of my nephews? That’s cold.” He pressed his lips to your temple, keeping them there for a few seconds, they were firm and sure and they let you know that he was really with you, you’d found him and he was real.

When Wanda re entered the room you felt your shock ebb as if it were being drowned beneath the surface before you could calm it naturally. You allowed your body to melt into Peter, your unintentional, sitcom worthy smile making his way across your lips again.

“Oh good, so you two have met then?” Wanda grinned, knowingly. Peter gave her a grin of his own.

“We’ve done more than meet.” He told her suggestively and you poked his ribs gently.

“You should’ve told me you were a Maximoff,” You giggled out as Peter littered your face with kisses while the twins gagged, the silver haired man pulled away from you for only a second to stick his tongue out at his nephews before he returned his attention to you as you chastised Wanda softly, “I would’ve been able to prepare myself to see this loser.”

Peter scoffed and gently pushed you away before speeding to catch up with your body. He wrapped his arms around your torso from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder, “She loves me really.”

Peter knew exactly what Wanda was after; a perfect family. He understood that’s what she wanted but he didn’t know how far she would go to achieve that goal. He had to make sure you played along, he couldn’t lose track of you again.

Your next words caused a stir in the hearts of both the siblings, your head was turned and your gaze was locked on Peter’s face, eyes free of any outside emotion as you broke out of Wanda’s hold and what Wanda read off your face wasn’t fear nor confusion, it was nothing but pure adoration for her brother.

“I do. I really do.” You told him, eyes becoming glassy before Wanda managed to regain control of your mind. You cleared your throat and gave Peter an airy smile, gently placing your lips against the curve of his jaw and he bit the inside of his cheek as he held you, allowing the conversation to flow easily and trying his best to support you as you unknowingly exhausted yourself fighting against his sister's hold.

He had a feeling you hadn’t remembered your mutation yet. You were one of the most powerful mutants Xaviers School had ever seen, your powers similar to Jean and Charles himself. Telekinesis was a tricky game, especially when you weren’t aware of it.

He remembered when he’d met you, you were with Charles and Hank, in his basement and asking for his help. He smiled to himself when he thought of how you’d been just as confused as him at the time.

You had no control over your telekinesis back then, similarly to now as you sat playing a board game with the twins, lights would flicker when you laughed and the very ground you walked on would shake if you got angry enough.

“Her mutation, it’s strong.” Wanda commented breezily as if it were nothing, floating through the kitchen going about her business as Peter’s eyes never left your form.

With a sigh he murmured, “She’s powerful, Wands. Trust me when I tell you that this whole thing could come crashing down if you don’t let her access her mutation.”

Wanda paused, her jaw clenched. With a flick of her wrist the panel that was allowing Peter to gaze at you from his place in the kitchen shut in his face. He turned to face Wanda then, an incredulous look on his face.

“What do you mean.” Peter only let out a tired laugh.

He shook his head, “Why did you let her in in the first place? You could’ve kept her out if you didn’t want her here.”

“She came for you, Pietro. You were the only thing on her mind. I didn’t realise she had power until I’d let her in.” She seethed, glaring at Peter.

“Maybe this was a mistake…” Wanda began, clenching and unclenching her hands as she considered her next actions. Noticing her uncertainty, Peter stood up and approached her as she spoke, “I should send her back.”

Panic flooded the speedster and before his sister could so much as move a finger he grabbed both of her hands in his, “No!” He shouted, desperately.

“Please don’t. I’ll look after her, just… just don’t take her away from me. Not again.” He begged, shaking his head frantically and Wanda knew in that moment that sending you away would create more problems than it would solve.

With a steady nod Wanda squeezed her brother’s hands, “She’ll stay here. But she’s your responsibility now. If she becomes a problem she’ll have to go.” His sister explained causing Peter to once again nod his head frantically.

“There’s an empty house next door. It’s yours, take her home, she’s tired I can tell.” Peter left the kitchen without another word, a smile on his face as if the conversation with Wanda hadn’t shook him to his core.

When he entered the living room he watched fondly as Billy tried to impress you and Tommy sat contently beside you. Wanda had released you from her influence and you were simply fighting sleep while simultaneously keeping the twins occupied. Even without your mutation, Peter knew you were a superhero.

“Alright, nerds. Stop bugging my girl.” Peter walked casually to the couch and pulled you up gently, kissing your temple like he had done earlier, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

When he pulled away you were looking at him, your expression somewhat defeated, “Home?” That’s right, he reminded himself, you didn’t know where home was.

He nodded gently, interlocking your fingers with his and led you to the front door.

“Bye boys!” He called over his shoulder, not bothering with a proper goodbye tonight.

True to her word, the house next door was vacant and ready for the couple to move into. As soon as the front door was shut Peter attached his lips to yours, feverishly moving his hands to your cheeks as you melted against him.

“I’ve been looking for you for so long.” You croaked, pulling away, select memories had began to return upon meeting his lips.

Completely overwhelmed you nuzzled your cheeks into his palms when tears began to leak from your eyes. Peter pulled you closer, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, “I know, baby. But I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

His words had only served to push you further towards the edge and you gripped his wrists to keep his hands in place, using him as an anchor. He shushed you gently once the picture frames nailed to the wall began to clatter against the plaster while you struggled to even out your breathing.

“I couldn’t think, Pete. I couldn’t- I couldn’t keep her out. There’s something so wrong here, we need to get out- we have to get out.” You rambled, tears streaming down your face now as the panic Wanda had pushed away from you earlier now manifested into a full blown panic attack.

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/n, look at me, okay? Neither of us are under her control right now, you’re safe, you’re with me and I’m not going to let her so much as flick her wrist at you, do you understand me?” He spoke steadily and sternly, caressing your face so gently as if he was afraid you’d break.

After a second or two, the walls stopped shaking and you let Peter guide you to the stairs and into a double room. Carefully, he undressed you and redressed you into the shirt he’d been sleeping in, something in him just knowing being surrounded by his scent would calm you down.

Your hands snaked around his waist after he finished getting himself changed, with a content sigh you pressed your lips against his shoulder before pulling away to look into his eyes, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Peter nodded his head, eyes softening at your concern, “M’better now.”

Before you could respond Peter had zoomed the pair of you into the floral double bed. He lay on his back, his silver hair sprawled against the pillow and his eyes looking at you contently. You gazed at him from your space against his chest, your body completely flush to his, the arm he had wrapped around your waist making you feel safe.

He hummed in approval as your finger lazily traced his jaw, he grinned dorkily, he watched your eyes fluttering open and shut as you struggled to stay awake. Peter wrapped both arms around you tightly, pulling you up ever so slightly to let your face rest against the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered when he felt your fingers toying with his hair gently.

You hummed, pecking the skin of his neck, “I love you, Peter. Or should I say Pietro?” He couldn’t stop his chuckle when he felt your lips form into a smirk as you continued to peck lightly at his neck.

Peter shook his head, his hands moving up and down your back, slowly and softly as he told you, “Nah, I just wanna be Peter with you. You’re the only person in this wacko town who knows who I am.”

“We’ll get out… and then we can go back to being whoever we were before we ended up here.” You spoke sleepily, but honestly, he knew you believed what you were saying.

He wanted to ask why you’d put yourself in this situation but he knew why. And he knew he’d follow you into anything like this too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been proud of the love the pair of you shared, considering it had landed you in a borderline tyrannical suburbia. But even a barrier that wiped memories, a witch who could bend time, space and the very reality around her couldn’t keep the two of you apart.

Neither of you knew what would happen in the future but that didn’t matter so long as you had each other. As your breath evened out against his neck Peter promised himself that he’d find a way to get you both out, get everyone out.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #tw animal death

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