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writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

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The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

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vodika-vibes · 3 months ago

Note

Congrats on 800 followers 🥳 You deserve all of them and so many more. I know I've been a little MIA, but I still love you and watch your success from afar 🫂

You don't have to do my request, but if you feel so inclined, could I request Tup x Fem!Reader with apple picking? And maybe some apple pie making shenanigans along with it?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Apple Pie Weekend

Summary: While it’s not cheaper to pick apples at the orchard, you still love doing it. Especially since, this year, you can convince Tup to come with you.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1043

Warnings: Tup is an unrepentant thief

A/N: Of course I'm going to write your request! Because I love you and I love writing for you! Anyway, I'm five sheets passed tired but I did my best! I hope you like it. Also, I went over my word limit by 43 words. That's not terrible.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist!

“Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?” Tup asks as he critically eyes the thin jacket you’re wearing over your equally thin tee shirt, “You look like you’re going to freeze.” You're surprised that he waited until now to bring it up, honestly. After all, you just arrived at the orchard.

You grin at him, “I’ll be fine, Tup. Really.”

The look he shoots you is doubtful, and you can’t help the amused laugh as you lean over the center console of your speeder and quickly kiss his cheek. “If you get cold I’m not going to let you use my sweatshirt,” Tup warns.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Busy place,” Tup notes as he pushes his door open to get out of the speeder, his sharp gaze already sweeping the parking lot with a critical eye.

“Well, it is opening day,” You reply as you walk around the speeder and wrap your arms around his waist. You release a happy hum as he drapes an arm over your shoulder and tugs you closer to his side, “So naturally it will be busy.”

“And why are we here?”

“To pick apples,”

“Obviously,” Tup rolls his eyes dramatically and you grin and push him slightly, not that he moves at all. “You can buy apples at the store. Why do we need to pick them?”

“Because they taste better that way.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, come on Tup! Everything tastes better if you have to gather it with your own hands!”

“As someone who’s had to hunt for food before, I can promise that that’s not the case.”

You tighten your grip around him and rest your cheek against his shoulder, “Just two bags, Tup? And then we can go home and make apple pie!”

“Why do you need so many apples?”

You pull away from him and look up into his eyes, “To keep the doctors away.” You reply solemnly.

Tup presses his hands against your cheeks, “If you’re planning on throwing apples at Kix, please don’t. It’ll just make him angry.”

You laugh and drop your forehead to his chest, “I’m going to make a couple of pies and some tarts, and maybe some jams. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, if you’re going to make me treats—” Tup muses.

“Who says that they’re for you? Maybe I’m making them for Rex.”

He shoots you an amused look, even as he takes your hand and tugs you towards the stand where people are getting bags, “Then you can call Rex here to pick apples for you.”

You squeeze his hand gently, “Well, I perfect spending time with you anyway.”

“Good, I prefer spending time with you too.” Tup murmurs in reply as you drop a couple of credits in the hand of the girl manning the booth, and accept a couple of bags as well as a map.

45 minutes later, the pair of you are deep in the orchard, and Tup is sitting on a tree branch tossing apples down to you. One of your bags is already full of shiny red apples and the other is half full, but you’re beginning to think that maybe the pair of you should dip out early.

Mainly because the temperature is dropping and you’re starting to get cold. But you’re not going to admit that to Tup because then he’d toss his sweatshirt to you and you’d feel guilty.

You catch another few apples and set them in the bag, before you kneel and peer at the apples.

“Everything good, mesh’la?”

“Yeah, I think we’re all set though.” You call up to him, only to jump when you see him standing only a few feet away from you, “Don’t do that!”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear me,” He shrugs, “You sure you don’t want a few more apples?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You grab the handles of one of the bags, only to have your hand swatted away as Tup picks them both up. “I can carry one.”

“Nope. I already have them.”

You huff out an amused breath, “I didn’t bring you here to be my pack mule, Tup.”

“Keep up, mesh’la, or you’re going to get left behind!” Tup calls from where he’s walking away from you.

You sputter and then chase after him, “Hey! Wait for me!”

It’s later, much later after you’ve gotten home and the both of you changed into comfortable lounge clothes, and you’ve taken the time to wash the apples, that you start to prep to make an apple pie.

Just the one, at first.

If you make too many at the same time, Tup will just make himself sick by eating them.

You hum a happy tune as you start making the dough for the pie crust (something you should have started hours ago, but Tup’s a menace sometimes and he distracted you), and you jump when strong arms slide around your waist.

“You sound happy,” Tup mumbles as his warm lips trail against your jaw.

“I am happy,” You reply, “I got to spend all day with you, and I get to spend all day tomorrow with you. Nothing could make me happier.”

He releases a deeply contented noise, “If I tell Rex that I’m sick, you can have two more days with me.” Tup’s lips drift across your cheek, and you just know that he’s trying to distract you again.

And, curse him, it’s working.

“If you don’t stop distracting me, this pie will never get made and the apples will start to go brown.” You warn him.

“Oh no,” He doesn’t sound the least bit bothered about it, though.

“You’re a menace.” You add, without any heat.

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do.”

His fingers are gentle against the sides of your neck as he tilts your head back slightly, “I love you too.” And then he grabs an apple slice, dips it into the cinnamon sugar mix you prepared earlier, and pops the apple slice into his mouth.

You release an indignant noise, “Thief! Get out of my kitchen!”

Tup steals a kiss, and another apple slice, and then retreats from the kitchen laughing. And your heart swells at the sound. You really love him so much.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

#star wars #tcw #800 follower event #clone trooper tup x reader #tup x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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0o-junebug-o0 · 3 months ago

Note

I know you don't see Emily as anything but a lesbian but could you possibly do a trans reader? It can trans non-binary or masc like a demi boy, but they're afraid to come out to Emily because she is very open that she's gay?

Coming Out

Here you go!

genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort

cw: coming out, trans masc!reader, no use of y/n, panic attacks

wordcount: 1.2k

You pace back and forth across the living room, taking deep, steadying breaths to try to calm yourself. You groan in frustration and sit on the edge of the couch, burying your head in your hands. You can feel your hands shaking.

You’re terrified. You’ve been dating Emily for almost two years. You live together. How do you tell her you’re not the girl she started dating? And you have no idea what it will mean for your relationship when you do. Emily is a lesbian. She likes women. And you’re not a woman.

You lean back and run your hands over your chest, reveling in the flatness. Your binder arrived three weeks ago. You had made sure it would be delivered while Emily was on a case. You immediately hid it, and have only worn it while Emily is out of town and there’s no chance of her seeing it.

It makes you feel so incredibly guilty.

She’s your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be hiding stuff from her.

You adjust the binder with a grunt. It’s still uncomfortable to wear since you haven’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s worth it. You check your watch. Emily should be home in a few minutes. You don’t want to ambush her with this the second she walks through the door but you’ve been hyping yourself up all week and if you don’t do it soon, you’re not sure you ever will.

Still, you’re scared. What if she breaks up with you because you’re not a woman? What if she gets mad that you didn’t tell her sooner? What if this makes her hate you?

A panicked sob bubbles up your throat and you curl in on yourself, hugging your stomach to try to calm down. You can feel your heart rate picking up as you gasp for air.

You force yourself to take deep breaths and the shakiness of each inhale is audible. Then you hear Emily’s key turning in the lock and your panic increases. She’s here, she’s going to see you like this, she’s going to hate you.

She calls your name from the entryway as she moves around and even though that’s still the name you use, the sound causes a sob to tear from your chest. You hear Emily freeze. You clap a hand over your mouth, and though you desperately want to get up and lock yourself in the bathroom to hide, your body won’t cooperate.

You hear Emily’s footsteps coming toward the living room and your breathing picks up until you’re hyperventilating and gasping between sobs.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Emily says softly, sitting beside you on the couch. “What’s going on? What happened?” She rests her hand on your back and starts rubbing soothing circles.

You practically shove your body against hers, not caring that you're staining her shirt with your tears, just desperate to touch her in case this is the last time you can. “P-please don’t hate me,” you wail.

“Oh, sweetie,” Emily mutters kindly. “I could never hate you.”

You curl your fingers into the front of her shirt and cling to it like a lifeline. “You don’t—you don’t know that,” you sob.

“I do know that,” Emily reassures you.

You sniff and pull away, untangling your hands from her shirt. You look her in the eyes for a moment, noticing the clear concern written on her face. You lift your hand and hold out your pinkie. “Pi-pinkie promise?” you stutter. You feel like a child for asking, but you’re so desperate for her answer that you can’t bring yourself to care.

Emily removes her hand from your back and curls her pinkie around yours. “Pinkie promise.”

You sniff again and unlatch your pinkie to rub your face. Emily’s hand returns to your back.

“I—“ you start. You can feel your chin wobble and you bite on your lower lip to stop it. You bow your head, too afraid to watch the changes in her expression as you tell her. “I’m not a girl.”

You feel Emily’s hand still for a moment before it starts moving again. She doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m non binary. Or at least that’s what feels like it fits. Pl-please, don’t be mad! I understand if you want to break u—"

“Woah, hey,” Emily interrupts. “I’m not mad, I promise. But do–do you want to break up?” Her voice is wary and it shakes slightly.

Your head shoots up to look at her. “No! Never!” you insist. “But I–I thought you might want to.”

“What on Earth could make you think that?” Emily asks. There isn’t a hint of malice or annoyance in her voice. Just curiosity and concern.

“Be-because you’re a lesbian. And I’m not a girl,” you mutter.

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t care about that,” Emily coos. “You’re so much more important to me than what I call myself. I love you for you, not for your gender. I don’t care what you identify as, I will always love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away violently. “Th-thank you,” you gasp.

“Oh, honey.” Emily pulls you against her chest, holding you close and moving her hand to rub up and down your arm. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Yes, there is,” you argue, your voice muffled against her.

Emily presses a kiss to the top of your head instead of arguing. “I do have some questions I want to ask, though, if that’s okay.”

You nod against her chest and tilt your head to look up at her.

She smiles down at you kindly. “Do you, um, do you want to go by a different name?” she asks awkwardly.

You shake your head.

“What about pronouns?”

“I like they/them, but I’m not sure,” you admit. “And I don’t like being called a girl.”

Emily nods. “Okay. That's good to know. I, um, I might mess up sometimes at first but I promise I'll be doing my best.”

“That’s all I want,” you whisper, and press a kiss to her chin.

She smiles and lowers her head to catch your lips for a brief kiss.

“How long have you known?” Emily asks softly.

You hum and furrow your brow as you try to think back. “Maybe five months,” you say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hey, I’m not upset about that. I could never be. Coming out is hard.”

“I bought myself a binder a few weeks ago too,” you admit.

Emily’s brow furrows in confusion. “A binder?”

You nod. “It’s a compression garment, kind of like a beefed up sports bra, that flattens your chest.” You lean back and run your hands over your chest to show her. “See?”

“Impressive,” Emily says with a slight laugh.

You laugh in response. “Yeah. I, um, I really like it. It makes me happy. And feel right. If that makes sense.”

Emily nods and pulls you in for another kiss. “It does. And I’m glad.”

“You’re the best,” you whisper against her lips.

“I know,” she teases.

You laugh and lightly bat her shoulder and Emily laughs too.

“I love you, sweet thing,” she mutters.

You hum. “I love you too. And I like that nickname.”

Emily chuckles. “Better than 'sweet girl'?”

“Much better.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@angeliccss @novaanna @moonysreid @eliscannotdance @ilyremuslupin @ashluvscaterina @greyslover3004

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss x gn reader #emily prentiss x gn!reader!#emily prentiss x nb reader #emily prentiss x trans reader #emily prentiss x reader hurt/comfort #emily prentiss x reader angst #emily prentiss x reader fluff #emily prentiss fluff #requested

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brasideios · 2 years ago

Text

Get to Know a Blogger

I was tagged by @aeide @mini-uzzy and @ainulindaelynn. Thank you my friends! 🤍

Share your wallpaper:

Last song you listened to: Maybe Tomorrow by the Stereophonics. I recently rediscovered this song after probably ten years of forgetting. Filled with pathos.

Currently reading: I just finished First Love by Ivan Turgenev. I think I’ll read Crime and Punishment next (Dostoyevsky) or War and Peace (Tolstoy). They’re both sitting by the bed, demanding my attention in equal measure.

Last movie: 200 Cigarettes! I recently dug out a story I wrote back in ‘99, and vaguely recalled I was trying to emulate this film. So I wanted to watch it to see how I did, but it wasn’t on any of the five streaming services I have access to (password sharing ftw) so I’d given up on finding it only to discover yesterday that the whole movie is up on Youtube. Happiest moment of my life! (I did badly, btw, with the emulation. In my defence, I’d just left high school 😆).

Last show: Umm... Band of Brothers a couple weeks back, I guess. Rewatching for the tenth time.

Craving: Coffee, as always :)

What are wearing right now: Pyjamas and a dressing gown because *finally* it’s cold in the mornings. Love autumn.

How tall are you: Just shy of six foot.

Piercings: Just my ears.

Tattoos: I have four. A made-up symbol on my ankle I got when I was 18 - literally the day I was legally allowed to get it 😊 I’d planned it for a year beforehand. The word Bittersweet on my back (’all in life is bitterwseet’ as I wrote in a poem at the time) when I was 23; A series of astrological symbols on my left inner forearm which represent me, my fam, and the people who were closest to me at the time. Got that on my 30th birthday in London. And most recently, at 33, a lucky year for me when a lot of things ended and I took back my power (a long, long journey) I marked it with a tattoo - it’s on the inside of my right arm, a feather quill, and the words, ‘... I meant what I said.’ Love tattoos! Would have so many more if I was rich.

Glasses? Contacts? Glasses. My vision isn’t too bad, just need them for reading. Lil long sighted.

Last thing you ate: I haven’t yet today, it’s still too early. Last night’s dinner was pasta bake with chorizo.

Favourite colour: Green, though I really love any colour that’s bright and clear - I am currently going through a phase of bright purples and pinks.

Current obsession: Two of my OC’s and their relationship development (Arity and Jimmy). Maybe also the temple complex I’m building in Minecraft 😅 I spent all day yesterday working on it and I am thinking I might do the same today.

Any pets: Otto Von Krum the schnauzer (my baby boy); Tiki Taco the chihuahua (Daddy’s girl); and Lady Pablo, aka Tiny Bun, my rescued house rabbit.

Favourite fictional character: Favourite? Like, out of all of them?? I couldn’t possibly choose.

The last place you travelled: Along the south coast of Western Australia, as far as Esperance. My favourite place we stopped, my favourite place in the world I think, is Denmark. It’s a beautiful town in amongst hills, with a wide green river flowing through it, surrounded by forests. It’s a different world. Oh, and it has the best pie-shop in the world too, which doesn’t hurt. [Meat pies, that is. Very Australian 😊]

I think everyone I would normally tag has been tagged! But just in case... @auroralykos @el-zorrito @cataliinaa and @theinkandthesea @dbraures @liminalspacecowboah @woodsman2b

#tag game #is me

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henneseyhoe · 9 months ago

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Country Lovin’| Trial And Error.

1 2

✮✮✮✮

“…And what is this supposed to be?” Sorie asked, watching her father present some kind of pie to her. The crust was burnt, and it looked like the filling had been mixed incorrectly. Whatever fruit that was in there was definitely not mushed down all the way, a few visible clumps rising on the top.

“It’s a pie, girl!” He spoke confidently, as if that was the correct answer.

She stared in silence, forcing a smile on her face. “Right…well, the important part is you tried your best, daddy” She took the “pie” and turned on her heels towards the trash, looking back at him one last time with a toothy smile before dropping the plate of sweet in the trash. He sighs, taking off his cowboy hat and scratching his head.

“Did you even look at a recipe?”

He shrugs then leans on the island in the middle of the floor, watching her attempt to start on pies that were actually edible.

“I thought I could remember something off the top of my head like you”

“Well, unlike me, you haven’t been cooking for years. It’s time to wrap it up, daddy” Looking through all the cabinets, Sorie sucks her teeth before whipping her head back towards her father, squinting.

“…did you use all peaches?!” He looked upon her with a ‘sorry’ expression then put his hat over his face to avoid her disapproving stare. “Six peaches, daddy?! You wasted six peaches!”

“Trial and error!”

“Error and error! The pie was nasty!” She scoffed harshly, taking the hand towel that hung onto the fridges door and throwing it at him. He catches it in his hand and tosses it to the side. “I’m sorry!” He apologizes, but all she could think about is how six goddamn peaches went to waste. She could only hope the trees still had other ripened ones, or else she’d have to find something else to make in such short notice with a market being too far out to get other peaches, which wouldn’t be as sweet.

“If your mother wasn’t the way she is now, she’d drag you by that shirt and make you BUILD those peaches you wasted. I need you to stay OUT of my kitchen, do you hear me?” The man’s eyebrows raise as he sets his hat back on his head. “YOUR kitchen? I built this house” She grabbed up two sweetgrass baskets from out of the near pantry, setting cloth on the inside of both of them as he went on. “And if I don’t cook, you starve. So yes, MY kitchen” She says, ignoring his argument.

“I’m going out to replace those precious peaches, thanks to you. So you have a nice day, Mr.Buck” She retorted, walking towards the door with her things. He brushed the steaming girl off with a wave of his hand, allowing her to leave with no smart come back

✮✮✮✮

The day was hot and muggy like any other summer day near the water, which is where Trevante lived closest to. Trevante lived on his grandfathers land, just like Sorie, in his own house behind the one he grew up in. The house wasn’t huge, but it definitely had some size to it for only one person to live there. Sorie was always a tad bit jealous because his daddy was quick to gather his boys and build him his own place to stay once he turned 18, Sorie’s own father helping at one point, but she was stuck in one house because he didn’t think she needed another place to call her own. Another house for what? She had a bed and room all to herself. And a job? Hell no! She could sell whatever that grew from the fertilized land her ancestors once used. That’s what her father would say when she hinted at having anything of her own.

Walking up onto the beautifully painted wrap around porch, Sorie knocked on the screen door in front of her and waited patiently for an answer. A whole minute of contemplation passed by before she knocked again, one hand starting to fan herself as the sun changed positions, shining directly on the side of her face.

“Tre!” She called out once.

“Trevante!!” Then twice.

“Open up! I know you in there, boy!” Suddenly the door swung open in her face, leaving Sorie leaning back before it could smack into her body.

“You got some nerve knocking on my door like that, like you put this muhfucka on the hinges” Trevante grumbled, erupting from the house with slight attitude.

Sorie gave him a mug. A grump he was when left alone for too long.

“Well, my daddy did so-“

“And I fixed it from what he did in 1840, or whenever the fossil you call a dad did it”

She squints. “You make me regret wanting to ask you for help”

He raises a brow at her. “You? Need help? From me? I thought I was all muscle, pretty girl” he smirks and leans against his doorframe, crossing his arms.

Sorie blushes. As if he wasn’t just ticked off a few seconds ago, he was now softening her up. Something he was too good at. Sorie felt a swirl of warmth in her stomach from his pet name, but for once she felt she hid the expression well, keeping her face neutral for the sake of her mission and not being stuck here going back and forth with him.

“Exactly! and you are for the most part. That’s why I need you!” Her eyes formed a squint as her high cheekbones raised with a smile. “Now, c’mon!” She attempted to pull him out of the doorway, but it was like trying to move a fully grown stallion.

‘Dayum!’ She frowned, letting go of his arm. He was stubborn, that was obvious. His body definitely matched his attitude too and he gained satisfaction knowing he wasn’t easily moved. Physically at least.

“Lemme think” he ‘thought’ for a second before flashing a childish Colgate white smile at her.

“Nah” He attempted to close the door, but she had already put her leg in the way just in case he would do that, the bright idea coming to her just in the lick of time. He sucks his teeth, opening the door to allow her leg freedom again. “It’s my off day. You know my old man gon’ work me like a race horse tomorrow”

“I’ll just convince him to give you another break!”

He sighs. “Sorie…you know how he is when shit ain’t done how he want it. I ain’t gon’ have time to hear his mouth if I’m tired”

She pouts, poking her bottom lip out. “Pretty please? It won’t be long. I’ll love you forever and ever” she pleaded while rocking back and forth on her feet, the man tucking his hands in his pockets. The only other thing sitting with the butterflies in her stomach were her nerves twisting and turning. Not only praying he’d say yes and that’d there’d still be enough fruit to capture, but praying he didn’t see the way her eyes traveled up his muscular arms before they made it to his own eyes.

“What exactly do I get outta this?” He asks, tilting his head. Sorie knew better than to just say anything, she might not be able to follow through. Then again what else could she offer other than food and a good laugh or two? What else did she have? She often asks herself that.

Smiling, she perks up and feels hopeful.“Good eats and a kiss on the cheek” She bats her eyelashes, the man nodding. “Okay. Why not one on the lips?”

Her body stutters almost. “Wha- Trevante..” She warns, her blush almost revealing itself under her poker face just from that little comment. She was one more flirtatious moment away from cracking if she wasn’t already doing so. Her skin blazed just from being near him, she thought the suns shine ain’t have shit on him.

“Ouuu, the government? I’m in trouble?”

“Tre, cut it out! Why you always gotta do this?”

He shrugs with that same devilish smile. “Can you help or not?” She shifts her weight on her other leg, a hand sassily placed on her hip. He rolls his eyes and he sighs, opening the door fully to reveal himself. He wore overalls, the top halfway off his body with a crisp white beater underneath. “Whatchu need specifically? And it bet not be that damn washing machine again”

“Nope! Something fun” she holds up the baskets, smiling.

✮✮✮✮

“A little to the left!” She shouts, trying to make sure she didn’t fall off of this man’s shoulders and embarrass herself, possibly breaking a bone. It was a long way down too.

“Not your left, my left!”

“We got the same left!”

“Then stop going right and go to OUR left, negro! Cmon, we learned left and right in pre-k!” They bickered, both of them agitated with completely different things. “Why couldn’t you get peaches from the bottom? the tree ain’t that damn tall either!”

“Why ain’t you get a ladder? And the peaches up here are much sweeter”

“How you know?” He raised a brow.

Sorie paused, not having a legitimate answer, but instead blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“My grandma said!” Everybody believed grandma, she was rarely wrong.

“Really?”

“…yes! I know, now stop moving!” she instructs, trying to shake the shivers going up her spine and throbbing in her core. Anytime he’d go forward, she felt her clothed mound brush against his neck, causing her to subtly shutter in her movements. That may have been the cause for more attitude, upset she couldn’t just grind on him like the perv she felt like in this moment.

He huffs and Sorie’s fruit picking paused as she looks down at him. “What? I’m heavy or somethin’?” She asks, just now starting to feel a little insecure. She hadn’t thought about how much weight was on him till now, and it had her wanting to jump down from the height herself. She wasn’t a bad weight, but she definitely wasn’t skinny either. She knew she had a stomach, thighs, ass, and stretch marks to go with it all. She was very well fed, and looked good too, but that didn’t stop certain insecurities from sickening her appetite to love herself to the fullest.

“I can get off if you wa-“

“Nah. Trust me, I’ve tossed and turned heavier” He comments, slickly turning his head and playfully biting the girls inner thigh, making her suck in a great amount of air from the bite alone. Her mind only just now also registered the nasty comment. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He doesn’t respond, keeping a smirk on his face.

Tapping his shoulder for him to let her down, he carefully lowers himself to a bended knee so she could stand on her own. Once she makes it down, she straightens out her dress and grabs the basket of peaches they had collected. “Look at that…we did good!” She smiles proud at their work.

“We got a few extras too”

Trevante nods, standing fully. Now holding a small yellow dandelion in his hand, most of all his attention was suddenly stolen from Sorie. She had noticed he had a little thing for flowers since they were little. Sometimes when they were playing together, he’d pick one he liked and give it to her, offering friendship after roughhousing in the field of grass all day. She had guessed he liked that one. Trevante looked to her and stuck it behind her ear so the face of the flower would be sticking out. As plain of a flower as it was, he still held appreciation.

“You are so corny” She spoke, as if her cheeks wouldn’t be red by now if her skin wasn’t so melanated. He shrugs uncaringly and grabs one of the baskets of peaches before walking passed her. “Pretty flower for a pretty girl, right?”

Sorie smiles, her shy dimples becoming prominent as she picks up her basket too, walking with him. “The prettiest?” She eggs on, making him smile at the sudden cockiness.

“Of them all. I heard men cry about the beauty she holds. When she was born, the heavens stormed for weeks because Aphrodite was jealous of how gorgeous she was” He speaks with his tone of voice confident like it was true, making Sorie erupt into giggles.

“So what happened when you were born?” She asks, the man beginning to chuckle, knowing he was about to say something foolish just to make her laugh again. “Hades melted and Hermes legs broke into bits”

“What?!” She continues to laugh, forgetting how obnoxious her laugh actually was.

“Tre, please. His legs? You are not that damn fast”

Their pace slowed until both stopped dead in their tracks, looking at one another. Almost like they telepathically spoke to each other, challenging themselves.

Suddenly, Sorie hit the ground running, leaving her shoes and basket full of goods behind in the grass. Trevante, being the competitive man he was, did the same. He took it as a bet more than a challenge.

As they ran, memories of the familiar surroundings began flooding his head. They passed by the old rickety shed they use to play house in, then the junk yard where they use to go to chill and listen to music when school got stressful. This whole running thing alone reminded him of a time when they were kids, when he would chase after her tail all day and evening until they were called back home and got to repeat the next day. Usually Trevante would be the one to run off first, leaving his little cowboy hat he loved so much behind in a pit of bloomed flowers while Sorie chased after him till he got tired and slowed down, giving her the leverage to catch him. Back then, Sorie was fast, but not faster than Trevante. Now it seemed like the script was flipped, Sorie running like she had something to prove. Maybe she did.

She ran fast, but she looked delicate, majestic almost. Her curls were blowing away from her face and her dress was lifting ever so slightly over her bottom with the help of the wind and every step she took. Trevante was enamored with the sight, so much so that he decided to enjoy his time behind her, looking with no shame. But of course time was once again against him and one miss footing sent Sorie rolling downhill, literally.

She tucked her arms over her face to protect herself from any scratches as she rolled until she found herself in sand, getting back on her feet. Any normal person would have stopped there, but no, the part in her head where she should have realized it wasn’t a game anymore didn’t turn on in time, and by then, she was already running on creaking planks and tripping herself up once again into the lake.

Trevante basically watched the entire thing from the hill, not thinking she would keep going, but he stood corrected. A gear kicked up inside him once he knew things had gotten serious and he ran down to the lake at full speed. He took a deep breath right before jumping in the water himself to help the foolish girl stay afloat.

She knew how to swim, but in the moment she was so shocked with herself that she even came this far out or even slipped into the water like that. Trevante held onto her waist and helped her climb onto the platform before pulling himself up once he was sure she was completely secured.

She hunched over on her knees and coughed up water, not even caring that her eyes were burning like an open fire. She didn’t know if it was from the water or her eyeliner anyway. Trevante begins to pat her back as the coughing prolongs, her lungs screaming for a breath of fresh air.

“You okay?” He asks, rubbing her back in circular motions. She nods, holding her hand up to him to show she was okay while finishing with one big cough. Trevante had calmed himself, and was now holding in laughter for her sake, but he couldn’t help it while watching her push her hair out of her sight.

She sat on the wooden planks awkwardly, loose-ish curls from her once perfect afro drenched and sticking to her heated face as she blinked away with a blank stare, not one confident thought in that pretty little head of hers. She almost settles on wallowing in her embarrassment, but he had already saw the entire situation unfold in real time, and even intervened himself, so that was no use.

“…you want some tea?” She asks after a prominent silence from her, hoping her offer would wipe away any memory of what just happened.

He chuckles, brushing wet leaves off of her thighs.

“Country ass. Yes, I want some tea”

✮✮✮✮

Sorie finished stuffing his clothes into the dryer after getting herself cleaned up and changed, also supplying him with clothes she had snuck out of her father’s room. It was a simple shirt and a pair of jeans, but it’d keep him warm after jumping into ice cold water.

“You sure you’re really okay though? I don’t want you drowning in your sleep or nothing” Trevante jokes, sitting at the kitchens island. Sorie glares at him as she turns the stove on and sets the kettle down on the hot burner. “You think you’re so funny. I should have let you freeze in them cold ass clothes”

He laughs harder, the whole scene replaying in his mind. “There was so much water in my shoe, I thought I’d never stop dripping”

Sorie couldn’t help but laugh with him, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms with a slight pout.

“Cheer up, at least you won the race…for once” He mumbles standing up from the stool and walking out of the kitchen into the living area. “Boy, please! I’ve beat you many times!”

“In a lucid dream, maybe!” He shouts.

He always found himself roaming when he was at her house. It wasn’t cause he was nosy or anything, he just found things interesting.

Picking up a bible that laid on a small table, he opens it up and begins reading a random scripture. Was he religious? not really, but the bible had some damn good stories. Things that he could relate to present time problems and issues that the world still couldn’t rid themselves of no matter how long ago they started.

“…A-..Are those my pants?” He hears from behind him, startling his presence enough to slam the Bible shut as if he was reading something dirty. Turning, his eyes meets Buck’s skeptical ones.

“Uhh…Nah” He responds, shaking his head. Staring for a moment, Buck hums softly and grabs up a box of things from the floor before walking back outside to tend to whatever he had been working on at the moment.

Suddenly Trevante hears a loud cackle from the kitchen, Sorie watching him through archway from the dining table. “I swear I didn’t hear him come in here. Almost gave me a damn heart attack” He sets the Bible down and holds his chest, sighing.

The sound of her laughing calmed his nerves with the speed of light, giving him another reason to smile. He watched as she sifted through a box of various teas while her giggles calmed, trying to find a today’s flavor. She’d pick a perfect one, one that suited both their moods. He admired how attentive she was and how much attention she paid to the simple details. His heart melted when she asked which tea he preferred. She cared what he liked and he liked that she cared. There weren’t many people he knew that did care in general.

And she was cute while doing it. The way her brows would furrow as she thought to herself, playing her childish go to eeny-meeny-miny-moe game to decipher on things. How she’d actually audibly hum and pucker those pretty glossed up lips.

Walking back into the kitchen with another book in hand, Trevante tries his best to think of anything other than her, afraid he’d get a headache from only her being on his mind. How could she be on his mind so heavy when only feet away?

Sorie dipped the tea bag into the steaming hot water, watching a pink tint bleed over the water satisfyingly. Closing the pot and turning to face her untold love, she smiled softly. He paced the kitchen, circling the dining table and all with his head in a random book, his eyes following every word. He was intrigued. From the looks of what Sorie could see, it was a book on self discovery and ridding yourself of spiritual and generational baggage. Nothing too deep, but surface level at least. Most likely something she had brought into the house.

Her tummy swirled again as she turned to take the hot kettle off of the stove as it made continuous high pitched squeals. ‘If he likes that, imagine if he gets to chapter 10’ She thought with a smile, getting excited just thinking about if she had someone else to talk to about those topics.

She knew he’d listen even if he didn’t know about half of what the hell she was talking about. He always listened if he himself wasn’t doing the talking.

Gosh, he was something else to her. He was all she dreamed about these days, but who wouldn’t dream about that smile? Or those muscles? She began to think. He did just hold her on his shoulders like nothing, and the smell of him lingered on her clothing when they were together, it kept her sniffing her shirt through the day. She was upset that she had to wash it off her dress when it got wet. He was truly something. Truthful like a real man, and he had heart, even with the little he shows on the days they were paired since becoming adults. He never promised anything unless he was really gonna do it, he took his word seriously. And goddamn the man was just sooooo hot.

Hot.

Tsssss.

Like she had been snapped back to reality, Sorie felt the stinging of her hand set in, her eyes widening and flickering down only to realize she hadn’t moved an inch from the stove with that same old kettle in her hand. The handle of it being so hot that the heat went through the thin mitten she wore to protect her from the same injury she was currently experiencing. She let out a high pitched, yet short scream of panic and pain while setting the kettle back down on the stove to avoid just dropping it, but still tea spilled a sizzled away on the hot surface. Trevante’s attention immediately left the book he halfway read and attached itself to her at the sound of the squeal.

Sorie quickly threw the mitten off of her left hand and paced towards the sink, switching on the water and putting her tingling hand under it. Trevante followed after her in just as much of a hurry, if not more, wondering what exactly she had done this time to make her drop everything like that.

“You good? What happened?” He asked frantically, searching for a context clue until he found it right on her hand. He sighs and shakes his head, reaching over and turning the water from warm to cool.

“Nah, you need cold water for that, baby. warmth just gon’ trap the heat and make it hurt worse” he spoke softly, steadying her shaking hand under the faucet while rubbing her back.

Sorie almost called out to jesus. If the dramatics and shock from the slight burn didn’t get to her first, she could died right then and there. “Thank you” She mumbled and he nods, looking down at her. She wouldn’t dare meet his gaze, scared that this moment would make either her dreams or fears for them come to fruition, and either or were big steps. His body closed in against her side, the soothing motions of his hand on her back slowing but her heart beat speeding up.

“I-I think I have bandages in my bedroom”

✮✮✮✮

Trevante wrapped her hand up as Sorie covered her watering eyes, scared she’d see something gory. “Is it bad?” She asks and Tre chuckles. “No. The worse thing you’ll get is a blister, but we took real good care of it as soon as it happened, so I doubt that’ll happen either. You can open your eyes now” He reassured and finishes wrapping her, Sorie uncovering her eyes at the last second. “It still stings a little. How’d you know what to do?”

“Plenty of injuries working on shit with my dad. My mom taught me a lot whenever I got hurt, like how to care for myself and others in situations, simple shit like that” He shrugs. Sorie smiles. “Thank you for helping me with two embarrassing moments today, doctor”

He chuckles. “This wasn’t embarrassing, simple mistake” He walks out of her bathroom and into her room, looking around.

“Oh! So the first thing was embarrassing to you?”

“I didn’t mention it, did I?” He begins to laugh, making her playfully kick his leg. “Shut up!”

“You have not changed this room a bit. it’s like a sixteen year old still lives here” He picks up a teddy bear off of her bed. Ouch. She forgot how blunt he could be too. Mentioning that made her realize how sadly true it was. Her bedroom hadn’t changed much. Of course some things were put up, like useless toys and hobbies she grew out of, but other than that it was mostly the same.

“I’m working on doing something new…” She lied. She was embarrassed and hadn’t noticed how childish some aspects of her room was. Maybe a new paint job would help but she wasn’t about to sit and beg her father to start a project with her that he would take ten years to finish.

“Look forward to seeing that” He chuckles as he makes his way towards the back of the room. Sorie clears her throat, unable to find a proper response that wouldn’t embarrass her further. Opening a closed door, Trevante peaks his head in, seeing nothing but sewing materials, half done dresses and manikins.

“Damn, I didn’t know you had all this back here—“

“WAIT, NO!”

Trevante immediately stops in his tracks, just one foot in Sorie’s art room before he notices that the floors were beyond damaged. The wood was soaked and on the verge of caving in due to a tropical storm that had struck months ago, leaving Sorie’s roof slightly leaking and her floors creaking and falling apart. The previous rain that week didn’t help. It was a safety hazard for anybody to be in there at this point.

“What the hell?” Tre slowly takes his foot off of the floorboard, backing up to take a look at it. “Yeah…it’s been like that for some time now. My daddy don’t ever remember about the shit I ask him to do so…yeah” She explains, annoyance lacing her voice. It was the reason she blocked the room off and was forced to sew outside instead.

Tre sighs and shakes his head, shutting the door. Noticing her mood shift, he moves to change the subject, walking into the hallway to retrieve his dried clothes. “You free tomorrow?”

She sucks her teeth and replies sassily. “Are you? Thought you were gonna be tired”

“You said you’d talk to my pops. You do that. Now answer my question” He responded with just as much sass, purposely imitating her. She cracks a smile. “…yeah, I’m free. Why?”

“I want you to come with me to this trail ride thing. Nothing too big, at this club slash bar slash outside thing.”

Her smile grew bigger, one of her hands playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Trevante thought for a moment before turning, walking down the hall toward the front door. “If you wanna call it that” He replied with a smooth cadence, making Sorie roll her eyes.

“What if I don’t?” She asks while following him, attempting to ruin the cockiness before it had even appeared.

“Then don’t call it that”

There was silence with both of them as they exit the house and walk into the yard, neither of them wanting to seem too much of something.

“You don’t gotta go if you don’t want to. I just wanna see you have some fun outside of your little farm” He speaks again. Sorie chuckles, genuinely thinking on it. “…I’ll keep you posted”

“Cool. Don’t think too long, aight?”

She nods and smiles.

“I gotchu, Tre”

Smirking, he nods. “Issa date then”

He finally leaves and heads down the road to his humble home. A warm feeling settled in his stomach, and it wasn’t just the freshly dried clothes he held against him.

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nuttynutcycle · 3 years ago

Text

Ding-Dong Ditch

The village dwelled around the hole without thought to its origin. Fondly called ‘the Ditch’ as a joke by locals, the pit was wide and started as a gentle slope before an abrupt dropoff. The rare visitor travelling through town marvelled at the pale grey colouring and unknown depth, but the locals only shrugged in response. The pit was nothing new. A trash dumping ground for many and artistic inspiration for others. The saying, ‘Respect the pit; fear the pit.’ was favoured by the elders and happily mocked by the younger villagers.

“No one really takes them seriously,” I remarked as I skirted around one such elder chastising a child for tossing her socks into the Ditch. “It’s just a big hole. I don’t get why the elders idolize it.”

“Freddy, it’s the mystery of it! Haven’t you ever been curious?” Friends since we were both caught swiping pies from Shopkeeper Barcle’s stall, Archie trailed behind me with a cocky grin aimed at any girl he saw nearby. His sharp eyes promising trouble were enough to lure the dumber ones.

“Nah, I care a lot more about reality.”

We ducked around the last of the market stalls. “Could become a reality.” Archie said in a fake whisper.

I raised a brow and looked towards the Ditch. “Yeah? How so?”

Archie grinned. “Legend says the hole was used for trapping criminals and lowlifes. If enough pile-up, they’ll be back for vengeance. Ma said she’d toss me in with the rest of ‘em if I got caught stealing again.”

“My brother told me it was a listening tunnel, and I should tell it all my secrets.” I laughed. “Course, this was before I knew how well the sound echoed around there.”

“Like when Moray snogged Olive on the slope? I learned new sounds women make that night. They echoed everywhere.” Archie tugged at some grass brushing his leg, twirling it absentmindedly. “You could probably wake the whole village if you threw some noisemakers in there.”

I raised an eyebrow. Archie winked.

Two hours later, we were on the slope with bells in our hands and shit-eating grins plastered on our faces. We puzzled over the best ways to keep them all together. Archie wanted to use glue, but I reminded him that we were both impatient bastards with no patience. Rope was more efficient. The result was a smash of bells, tins, cups and anything else we could find.

The moon was bright and full, casting a pale glow over the land. Archie wiped a hand through his ruffled hair. “That took forever. But it’ll be worth it.”

“Legendary. Years from now, they’ll be telling their kids about the weird sounds they heard from the Ditch one night.”

“They’ll ask, ‘Ma, tell us that one story about the Ditch.’”

“And Ma will answer, ‘Well Moray and Olive loved each other very much-‘” I broke off snickering as Archie gave me a shove.

“You just wish it was you and Olive on the slope.”

“Whatever,” I turned and hoped the shadow would cover the blush in my cheeks. “Let’s toss it.”

“And then run.”

I wound up and flung the contraption against the other side of the pit. It ricocheted with a deafening clang before gravity tugged downward. I watched for as long as I could and enjoyed how the noisemaker bounced off jutting rocks, adding extra echoes to the chaos. Archie plastered his hands over his ears and gestured for us to go. We ran into the forest across the village, laughing as lights flickered on in the windows.

“Satisfied?” I yelled.

Archie gave a triumphant grin without removing his hands from his ears.

It was another thirty seconds before our ears stopped ringing. My nerves were buzzing, the adrenaline coursing through my veins giving me the high I longed for. “Look, Archie! See how they’re all awake and scared? Running in their nighties because of us?” I crowed into the night and jumped at a low-hanging branch. “Legendary bastards!”

Archie plunked down on a log and gave a laugh. “That was exhilarating. My hands can’t stop shaking.”

We’d done riskier things than that, and Archie was never bothered before. I spared a glance at his hands. They weren’t trembling.

“Arch, what’re you on? Your hands-” I trailed off as I looked at Archie.

The log he was sitting on, no, the whole ground was trembling. My glee faded when a scream across the Ditch split the night.

“Freddy...?” He faltered.

I dropped to the ground and ran for the edge of the treeline. Almost the entire village was gathered at the edge of the Ditch in their nightclothes, half-awake children clutching their mothers and swaying with the ground. The Ditch was shaking and the colour, familiar as the back of my hand, had changed from pale to dark grey. The air left me in a slow exhale.

Archie caught up to me. “Well shit. Should we go out?”

“You joking?” I hissed, drawing back into the trees as one of my neighbours glanced our way. “I don’t want to be legendary for this.” Whatever this was. “Let’s circle around and join them. They won’t know we had anything to do with this.”

Archie nodded his agreement. We stayed low and relied on the dim light covering our moving shapes through the thick trees. I kept an eye on the Ditch and the growing crowd.

One of the braver shopkeepers, Kendal, decided to slide carefully down the slope, waving back those telling her to stop. The slope levelled out before the dropoff and Kendal stopped there before sliding onto her belly. She inched forward and peered into the hole before jerking back. The Ditch began shaking in earnest. “Run!” I could barely make out her yell as the other villagers scrambled backwards.

Archie tugged at my arm. “Freddy, maybe we should-”

A hand reached out of the pit. I froze as my eyes locked onto a scaly arm as thick as the trunk at my back. The arm was attached to a similarly scaled torso, which was led by a reptilian head. It pulled itself up and looked towards the village- tall enough to see the tops of our homes. A tail swished from behind. “You woke me.”

My neighbours froze.

“I did not want to wake.” The thing had a gravelly voice.

Shopkeeper Barcle stepped forward and said something I couldn’t hear. Archie clutched me tighter. The creature began its ascent up the slope with a sharp twitch. “The sound impaired my hearing.” It reached the top and dropped something to the ground. I shuddered as I saw the mangled remains of our creation. “This is an act of violence and I will repay it as such.”

“We didn’t wake you! You woke us.” Kendal’s voice was broken by a tremor. “And we-“

The creature’s tail whipped out and flung Kendal to the side with a crack. Villagers scattered with a scream as the creature lumbered toward my home.

No. “Wait-“The words escaped me in a rush of breath. I ran out from the trees and skidded to a stop behind it. “Wait! Please don’t do this.”

The monstrosity turned to face us. Its eyes were the same colour as the hole had been.

“Freddy…” Archie whimpered from the trees.

“There are innocent people here. Children live here! You can’t just…” My voice faltered at the thought of the destruction this thing could cause, at my people hiding in their homes.

“Wrongs will be made right,” the creature turned its head and I flinched at the sight of blood trailing down the side- the visible consequence of my noisemaker’s song. “One of my senses is damaged. I will not argue this any longer.”

“I did it. Not them.” My knees shook as I sank into the damp grass. “Please don’t destroy my home.”

The creature stopped and turned around, eyes narrowed to slits. “Why.”

“It was a joke. A stupid prank. We-I didn’t know you were down there. I’m sorry.” Thoughts of my family, Olive, and Archie flooded my mind. “Kill me and not them.”

The creature studied my kneeling form. “My race honours justice, and justice says reparation is due.” It paused before gazing at the moon. “But what is nobler than sacrifice to protect those you love?”

I glanced up.

The creature gave a huff of its scaled shoulders before slowing sitting down on a null. “I will honour both by giving one hour to leave this place. Then I make the land uninhabitable for centuries to come. And you,” the thing pointed a scaly finger at me. “Will be my ears.”

My hands subconsciously rose to cover my own. “I don’t-“

“You will stay and listen until I slumber again.”

If the village was razed, everyone would leave. “How will I find my family after?”

The creature’s tongue flicked out from its mouth. “I would suggest you accept before I change my mind.”

I looked up to see Archie join the rest of the crowd watching us. I opened my mouth in a half-question, half plea to stay. My heart plummeted when Archie tightened his lips and turned towards the village, jogging to keep up with the rest of the crowd.

The creature followed my gaze with a knowing tilt of the head. “Sacrifice is its own kind of love, even when unjustly portioned.”

I pushed down the rising anger at Archie’s cowardice and watched his back until he vanished from view. My best friend didn’t spare me a second glance.

Legend and bastard, indeed.

#writing #my writing #sniplet #my snippet #creative writing #flash fiction #fantasy #i had to write this for a creative writing class #with a lot of weird rules and word limits #my prof loved it #i hated it #enjoy

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Being Thor and Loki's Little Sister and Dating Peter Parker Would Include...

Notes: wow I haven't written a marvel one in a long time pls don't read too much into the timeline lol I know things overlap but just go with it (:

Warnings: none... I think ??

Word Count: 3.6k (sorry its a bit long for a write like this but I couldn't help myself)

You managed to do a decent job at keeping your relationship under wraps from your brothers for quite some time

Of course every other member on the team knew before the two of you even begun officially dating

Peter had spent three months ranting and raving to Tony Stark about how cute he thought you were and how much he liked you

Tony insisted time and time again he should tell you but Peter’s fear of rejection was much too large for him to find the courage for that

Unbeknownst to him,

You had spilled about your crush on Peter to Wanda and Nat almost a week after living in the compound

Being the only other girls there besides Pepper, it was easy to confide in them

Day after day you would wander to Wanda’s room and lay on her bed and gush about how handsome Peter was and how kind of a heart he had

Wanda found it adorable

And Bucky, Steve and Sam had placed the pieces together after days on end of watching Peter and yourself flirt like school kids in the gym during training

Even after being frozen for years, Steve recognized the look of smitten on Peter’s face when he talked to you

Bruce on the other hand had to sit through most of the kids talks with Tony in the lab so he figured it out fast

So when the two of you finally confessed your feelings for one another and Peter asked you out, there was only one road block holding the moment back from perfection

Your brothers

You and Peter shared the news with all the other team members expect the two, possibly most important in your case, members

You’ve been close to your brothers since you were brought into this world so it wasn’t like you didn’t want to tell them

It was more or less how overprotective they could be that made you bite your tongue

And as nervous as you are, Peter is 1,000% more worried about your brother’s finding out

Like honestly can you imagine how petrified Peter would be to tell Thor and Loki you two were dating

He’d purposely walk in the opposite direction every time he saw either of the two for the first week

Couldn’t stop fumbling with his words when he spoke to either of them

Like he was terrified

It’s sort of a cliché to have protective older brothers but older brothers who were also both Gods ????

Peter felt like a deadman walking

When the day finally came that you did tell your brothers about your relationship with Peter, it was absolutely cringe worthy

Peter had been coming home to the tower after a long day at Midtown High School when he spotted you the second he stepped foot out of the elevator

His excitement had clouded his judgement as he failed to check and see if the coast was clear

“Y/n! Hey!”

He nearly tumbled over his own feet as he rushed over to you

His face was gleaming with happiness and for a brief moment you felt a smile creep to your face until you were pulled back to reality by his hand reaching out to grasp yours

Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at Peter and before you could warn him to stop, he had planted a soft kiss on your cheek

That adorable smile was glowing from his face as he reached down for your hand only to fall once you pulled your hand away

He gave you a look of confusion, clearly surprised by your lack of response

But when an awkward cough sounded from behind him, he suddenly knew why

Peter didn’t have enough time to make any sort of a move when a husky, all too familiar voice spoke up,

“Hello, man of spiders. May I ask why you just kissed our little sister?” “Oh shit- I uh, well you see I…um...she had something on her face so I uh…”

Loki would snicker in amusement at seeing the boy squirm and prolong his torture “So you kissed her?” “Yeah…” “Hm, there something you’d like to share, little one?”

It wasn’t exactly the way you were hoping to break the news to your brothers

But it was certainly one way of doing it

The rest of the night was filled with awkward tension as you and Peter had to confess the truth to your brothers, who then made you share the news with the rest of the team

Thankfully, the rest of the team pretended they were just hearing about your new relationship for the first time, seeing as no one wanted to deal with an angry Thor

Now let’s get into your relationship with Peter

Peter Parker is the most caring person in the universe

Honestly

And dating him certainly came with it’s perks

You can expect to wake up every morning with a fresh coffee and a pastry on your nightstand, courtesy of Peter

He’ll also write you a sweet little ‘good morning’ note with a sketch of spider-man hanging from a web

(( he’s actually pretty talented in the doodling department ))

Makes cute sketches of him as spiderman and you as a princess ( vv fitting)

But also draws you as a total badass saving the galaxy bc… well you are

Count on him to be the first person to greet you when the sunrises and the last person to wish you a goodnight when it falls

Gets Mr. Stark to buy you an iphone so he can teach you how to use it

Has your name as “goddess” in his phone

The first thing he does is teach you about texting so he can pay you in imessage games

Refuses to play you in battleship since you somehow have crushed him every single time

Gets slightly annoyed with the overwhelming amount of random photos you snap of him

But he knows its all new to you and finds it irritatingly adorable

Loves it when you walk home with him from school

Will also keep reminding you that you shouldn’t have walked alone all the way to Midtown High School alone

Peter often forgets that you’re Asgardian and can protect yourself just fine

But it’s so cute how protective he is

He’s very observant and notices nearly everything

Like when you’re feeling a bit homesick

He picks up on it right away and will ask Thor and/or Loki for advice

Or when you start to become bored and tired at one of Star’s parties

Peter made his way over you before you even had the chance to turn and search for him

He’d escort you back to your room and lay with you until he was positive you had fallen asleep

Kisses to the top of your head

Is the boyfriend that will take your makeup off for you if you wear any

(( and sets yours lashes on the nightstand so neatly and labels which eye they were on cause the poor boy doesn’t understand ))

Spends weeks learning how to master the intricate braids that adorn your head

It’s so cute cause he’ll sit and look up Youtube videos and try to learn how to make the different braids and is just so confused but so determined

Taking Peter to visit Asgard

“Woah- this place looks like something from Lord of the Rings! It’s awesome!” “Lord of the Rings? I’ve never met that God.” “Uh, no, it’s a movie from Earth. We can watch it when we go back.” “To Midgard?” “Midgard? No, to New York.”

Loves it when your people refer to you as “Princess Y/n”

For some reason it makes him blush

Will tell everyone back on Earth that he’s dating a princess

I could def see Peter getting annoyed and frustrated with the Asgardian men trying to flirt and win your heart

Although that’s something that already belong to Peter

And even though Peter trusts you entirely

He’s still insecure from time to time

Especially when he sees how much taller and stronger Asgardian men look in comparison to him

But he finds reassurance in the feeling of your hand in his and the gleeful smile adorning your face as you show him around your homeland

Attempting to help Peter study

Although you’re not much help to Midgardian school work “Peter, darling, I don’t have a clue what a watergate is and I haven’t an idea how that could be scandalous.”

Maths however you excelled in

And Peter was thoroughly surprised to find you had the sequence of PI memorized to the one hundredth number- and in song form

Holding your hand 24/7

Endless cuddles on the couch

And when you’re walking around together, he does that thing where he swings your hands and back forth

Movie theater dates… at the tower b/c your brothers feel the need to be in close proximity the you guys at all times

Trying ice cream for the first time with Peter at two in the morning

One of Peter’s favorite things to do with you is take you through a walk in his world

At least three times a week Peter and you will walk around the city and find new things your Asgardian self has yet to experience

Like pizza

New York pizza to be exact

And hot chocolate

Ice skating at Rockefeller Center once the weather got cold

Loves to take you for drives in the more woodsy land of New York once fall set in and the leaves began to change

But by far his favorite thing is showing you Midgardian films and movies of all sorts

He loves that you don’t judge him for nerding out over his love for films

Not to mention you actually sit and watch Star Wars with him

(( maybe it was the whole space element but Peter was just thrilled you liked it ))

But then he shows you ‘Alien’

And it was an instant regret

It took him the rest of the night to convince you that the movie was fake

You made him sleep in your room just for reassurance

Your favorite out of the films Peter played was called ‘Toy Story’

Buzz Lightyear reminded you of Thor

In terms of TV shows

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. which quickly became your guys comfort show

Parks & Rec too “That Andy fellow looks an awful lot like Starlord, don’t you think?”

Peter refuses to let you watch Black Mirror

After the whole incident with Alien

Black Mirror didn’t seem like a good idea

Constantly teasing from the rest of the Avengers

Tony just can’t help it

He loves tormenting the two of you

Especially when Thor and/or Loki are around

“Hey Peter, I thought I saw you go into Y/n’s room last night but I didn’t see you leave until the morning. Heard a lot of noise too- thought Y/n was getting attacked. What was that about?”

“Kid, I got you those condoms you asked for. How’d you manage to run out of that last box so quick? I just bought it for you a week ago!” “Messing with you, they’re just sugar packets- Thor put Peter down right now!”

Aunt May absolutely adores you

Always tells Peter how sweet you are and is constantly inviting you over for dinner

Lets you two have sleepovers in his room at her place

As long as the door stays open

Peter can’t stop laughing when you compliment May on her ability to make an amazing bowl of cereal

She thought it was a joke seeing as she burned dinner the night before to a crisp and laughs until she’s in tears

And you’re literally sitting there so confused, clearly not understanding the joke

Peter then takes you on a trip to a grocery store for the first time to show you a whole aisle full of cereal

It is then that you realize Aunt May didn’t hand make the fruity pebbles

She still laughs about it to this day

Befriending Ned and listening enthusiastically while he gives you a full speech on the franchise Star Wars

And his rant on how terrible Star Trek is in comparison

Is shocked when you ask questions out of genuine interest

Ned immediately takes a liking to you after that and asks Peter daily to invite you to hangout

Whenever Stark adds an upgrade to his suit, you’re the first person Peter shows it to

He shares quite literally everything with you

As do you to him

The rest of the Avengers love gossiping about you guys

Nat and Wanda have already started planning the wedding and Pepper has the perfect venue in mind, much to your brothers dismay

For some reason

Thor and Loki are always within reasonable distance, enough so they can keep an eye on you but also give some sense of privancy

Thor is def always the first one to step in

“Peter, please remove your hand from my sister’s behind.” “Oh uh, ye-yeah… sorry, Mr.Thor.”

Loki would find Peter amusing

He loves to mess with him whenever given the chance

“Ah, Peter. Good to see you. I’m sure Y/n informed you of our task today. Very impressed that you offered yourself as the sacrifice to the aliens-” “Wait, what? Y/n?!” “He’s kidding, Peter.”

Everyone in the Avenger’s tower knew Peter was lactose intolerant and knew the repercussions of the boy consuming any sort of dairy

(( he physically cannot leave the bathroom for a full day ))

Yet Loki regularly will swap Peter’s specially labeled almond milk with a jug of skim milk just for the hell of it

There’s something so hilarious to him about the look of panic and alarm that smacks abruptly across Peter’s face as he quickly stumbles out of the kitchen to his room

It keeps him laughing for days

You’ll just shoot your brother a look of disapproval, clearly certain it was his doing

“Loki, why did Peter run off?” “Not sure, darling sister, maybe he’s got one of those stomach bugs. I’ve heard Midgardians are prone to them…weak bodies and such.” "You switched out his milk again didn’t you.” “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re accusing me of, little one.”

Thor is a bit more hesitant on accepting your relationship with his fellow Avenger

He trusts that Peter would never harm you

Although he did not trust that you would never be harmed because of Peter

It was risky enough that both your brothers were big names in space, as well on Earth, however

Thor knew Loki and himself were capable of protecting you but Peter?

He was just a kid, in Thor’s eyes

However the one thing that kept him from telling you this was seeing how happy Peter made you

As your older brother, Thor trusted your judgement and tried his best to be accepting of his little sister dating

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he saw crystal clear the care and love Peter gave to you and he wasn’t willing to break that for you

Still

Thor is the type of brother to barge into a room and shove himself between Peter and yourself without warning

This man does not care at all

At least Loki has the decency to give you two space as a couple

Thor does not

He is constantly third wheeling on your dates and will ‘accidentally’ walk into rooms he knows you two are in claiming he forgot something

Not that he ever grabs anything,

He’ll usually just stand and stare at the two of you until you either leave the room or ask him to leave

To which he always answers,

“No.”

But with a smile

A smug smile

PDA is something he will never be okay with

Thor will yank Peter back by the collar every time he sees his lips on yours and glare at him, “Man of spiders, I know you’re in love with my little sister but kissing her infront of me is too far.”

And Loki will physically gag just to piss you off

For the most part, your relationship with Peter is nearly perfect

It would be entirely perfect if you weren’t constantly worrying about him dying on a mission or getting hurt

But still, just like any couple, you had your moments

And when you did fight, it was typically over Peter’s safety or him not wanting you to tag along for a mission

Your common way of dealing with conflict was the silent treatment

Which is pure torture for Peter

Not only does he miss the sound of your voice

He misses having you around

Seeing your smile

Hearing you laugh from something he said

He felt terrible everytime

He’d go to Tony for advice and spend hours rambling on to him about how sorry he was for yelling at you and for adding to the fight

Tony would half listen while he worked away on a new system and suit, offering a ‘yeah’ and ‘hmm’ every few seconds which pleased Peter who thought his mentor was fully listening

And after almost two hours of his non-stop talking, Tony Stark had reached his limit

Setting his wrench down on the metal table with a thud he turned around to face the young boy

“Kid, why’re you saying all this to me and not her? I mean, I’m all ears but I’m also not Y/n. I know we’re both good looking so I can see why you mixed us up, but you should be talking to her right now.”

Similar to Peter you also had someone to confide in when the road got rocky

Loki had always been the one you shared all your secrets with

As children you were attached at the hip to both your brothers but Loki a smidgen more than Thor

Your father, Odin, had Thor at his side 24/7 growing up

While he was busy learning the ropes to ruling Asgard, Loki and yourself run amuck causing trouble left and right through the royal palace

Through the years of bonding Loki become your best friend, and you his

So when trouble struck in paradise, your older brother was the one you ran to

He’d welcome you with open arms and a questioning gaze

Loki is by far the best listener in your family

Instead of telling you what to do, he asks what you want, which is a refreshing change

After a long talk with Loki you’d search the tower high and low for Peter while ironically Peter was doing the same thing

When you did finally make-up, it felt like coming home

The apologies were so sincere and genuine

You’d end up having a sleepover in your room watching 80’s films that Peter claimed were ‘iconic’ and laying in his arms

And that’s where you felt complete

Fights never occurred often but bickering ???

DAILY

You two bickered playfully over everything under the sun

Like who’s the better superhero; Ironman or Captain American

Debates between living in New York and living in Asgard

Loves to pull up Midgardian inventions and ask you to guess what it is “Princess, what do you think this is?” “Oh! Oh! I’ve seen this one! Tony has one in his kitchen!” “Okay, so what is it?” “Yes, it’s a chicken nugget maker!” “It’s actually an air fryer but we only ever make chicken nuggets in them so I’ll give you a half point.”

Peter sneaking out of your room at the crack of dawn and sprinting to his

As much as Thor and Loki liked him and supported the relationship

He was sure they’d both team up to murder him if they caught him sleeping in your bed

Steve and Tony, who seem to be incapable of sleep, have watched him tiptoe out of your room numerous times but they only share a look of amusement then go back to their previous discussion

Playing hide-n-go-seek and tag on rainy days at the tower

Cuddling in Peter’s bed while he asks you to tell him stories about Asgard

Loves hearing about your childhood and what it’s like to grow up with siblings

Is fascinated when you tell him about Heimdall

Stealing Peter’s hoodies

Especially his Midtown High School ones

They’re insanely soft

Sweet little kisses throughout the day

He's just so sweet and gentle

Loves getting to hold you and snuggle in his bed

Most weekends you spend lounging on the couch with Peter’s head in your lap while you play with his hair

Other times you’re sitting next to Peter on his bed watching him play some video game and asking a million questions “Who is that man, Peter?” “That’s me, he’s the main character of the game. That’s Mario, babe.” “You’re not Mario- you’re Peter.” “No, the main character of this game is Mario, I’m just playing him.” “Oh… and what is that green dinosaur creature?” “That’s Yoshi!” “Adorable.”

Making out between games

In terms of... y'know... sex

Neither of you were keen on rushing the process

You had tip toed on the line multiple times yet never fully crossed it

Until you had decided to make the first real move after being together for about five months

You trusted him with all your heart so it wasn't exactly scary, but rather exciting

He had a way of making you feel safe, comfortable, and loved all at once

Lets be honest, Peter nearly fainted the first time he saw you naked

And still, no matter how many times the two of you have sex,

He worships every inch of you like it was your first time all over again

You couldn't have asked for a better lover

Dating Peter means a new adventure everyday

You’re constantly learning new things about each other and from each other

Despite coming from two very different worlds

You’ve never felt more connected to a soul until Peter came along

398 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 4 years ago

Text

Moving day

Based on @lucywrites02's writing challenge, with the prompts "1. You're family" and "8. I have a surprise for you". I wish you a very happy birthday, Lucy!

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (Tony Stark's daughter, not Morgan)

Word count: 3.2 K

Warnings: fluff and pregnancy :) This was very adorable to write.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87,@jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88, @enderslove

Gif: @moonrainbow

It had surprised Thor greatly how quickly and intensely his brother had fallen for you. He was as committed and truthful as he has never been in his long, long life. He looked at you softly, in comparison with everyone else. As soon as you walked in a room, he followed you with his gaze and invited you to his conversation. It wasn’t a surprise that after a few months of this very silent flirting (that very few noticed, because it mainly consisted in batting eyelashes and repressing subtle smiles when the other was around) you’d come out of the shell and admit you started dating. Thor was ecstatic.

Tony, on the other hand, was not amused. Not amused at all; in fact, he hated the idea of you going around with that God. He said, explicitly “if you ever get in trouble because of him, you solve it yourself. Nothing of coming for daddy to help, clear?”. Pepper had told him to cut some slack, and observe at how happy you were together, but he, stubborn to the bone, had to take a few months more before accepting the fact that his little girl was in love with the God of Mischief.

But the months passed by; almost a year, and you grew closer and closer. You hated to sneak into his room every night, and get interrupted all the time by every single soul in the compound, or mocked to death every time you cuddled on the sofa, watched a movie or read a book together. So, it all boiled down to the same conversation:

“I don’t think he’s ready”, you said while pouring some milk on your cereal. Nat rolled her eyes.

“He’s even readier than you”, insisted Wanda. They were exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do something about it. “He’s lived much longer, if any of you two were to be unready, that’d be you”.

“Do you think I’m not ready?”, you doubted yourself.

“God, Wanda. You’re planting unnecessary seeds here. The girl’s already anxious enough”.

“I just think… I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know if he feels the same”.

“He totally does”.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. Just look at how he looks at you. What are you even waiting for?”.

“I don’t know, a signal?”.

“Of what? You’re impossible. Unless God themself comes down the sky and tells you textually just move in with him, you wouldn’t consider it a ‘signal’”, bitched Nat. But she was right. Commitment was not exactly your thing, even though you were as in love as you could be.

You heard an oncoming scream approaching the room. In silence, you three observed cautiously, and moved away from the middle. The screaming increased its loudness, until a body shattered the roof and fell to the floor violently. Loki laid still among the dusted debris until a second screaming started sounding from the sky.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, managing to get up quickly and making himself as a shield for you three. Thor landed on his feet over the same spot Loki had fallen. Dust flew everywhere and the floor cracked a bit more. “Don’t”, he alerted, pointing at his brother menacingly.

“I’m tired of your whinings, brother. Do something or I’ll do it myself”, spat Thor, grabbing Mjölnir and leaving the room. Loki sighed and sat on the couch, cleaning the remains with his magic. Wanda sighed and put it all back together.

“And what was that about?”, asked Nat, eating a candybar, still on the same spot as earlier. It wasn’t an unusual scene.

“I…”, said Loki, but desisted. You sat on the couch by his side and he laid, using your lap as a pillow. You took out a tissue and started carefully cleaning the blood off his cuts. He smiled softly. “We just had a fight”.

“I can see that. What did you fight about?”.

“He wants me to… well, talk to you”, he struggled to say.

“Well, we’re talking now”.

“Yes. No, wait, no. Like, talk talk”, he clarified, and Nat and Wanda nodded, leaving the room. You could still hear their chattery from the door.

Loki sat up and grabbed both of your hands, making direct eye contact. He was nervous, which only made you even more unsettled. He was never nervous. He was always calm, even in life or death situations. He was unfazed in everything and with almost everyone. Almost.

“What do you want to talk talk about?”, you joked, and he chuckled, releasing some tension.

“I want you to move in with me”.

“Oh. Wait. What?”.

“Like, move out. But with me”.

“To your room?”.

“Out of the Compound”.

“To an apartment?”.

“Yes”.

“Here?”.

“In Midgard, yes”.

“But like, in New York?”.

“Wherever you want, actually”.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and Loki grew nervous again. You couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… a God just fell down the sky and told me to move in with you”, you clarified, which didn’t actually clarify anything.

“You… what?”.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, love”.

And in no time you were already packing things up and going together on apartment huntings.

Tony insisted on helping you out himself, which was hilarious, given the repulsion he had for the idea in the first place. So, you’d go to an apartment by yourself, check it out and talk to the owner for a bit; Loki would arrive later, tensing things up (the owners would usually recognize him, but after a little chat they’d find out he’s a fine man), and then, just after you’d be all calm and good, the owners would see in the papers you’re a Stark, and tense up even more. Easier to say, it wasn’t a normal neighborhood chat.

You had finally decided on a small but very cozy apartment near Central Park; far enough from the Stark Tower, but you could get there pretty quickly for every mission.

You found the place advertised on the papers, and when you showed it to Loki, in sickness and all, you insisted on going to visit it that same day.

“My love, my dearest… you need to rest. I’m afraid you might faint again”, he cooed, trying to get you back to bed.

“A little fever won’t do anything to me, really, I’m f…”, you said, but you felt like vomiting, so you stopped your words and sat on the floor. Loki sat by your side and rubbed your back.

“If you feel better tomorrow, we go, yes? Now, come on, I’m gonna call Banner and you wait on your bed”.

“No, but they might take it, we need to go to make sure…”.

“What about I go, call you on one of those animated images, and you can see it from here?”, he proposed, helping you up. He meant a video call.

“That… sounds about right”.

But you had no actual time to have that video call, for when he was in the apartment, Banner was delivering some more important news.

You’ve been to the examination’s room of the compound before. But this time it seemed brighter. The lights shone so strongly, you had to close your eyes a little.

“What would you like to do about it?”, asked Banner. You were sobbing and trembling.

“I… I don’t know, I’m sure Loki will leave me”.

“What? No, don’t base your decision on that guy’s opinion”.

“Well, I don’t want the kid to not have a father, you know?”, you said as he gave you a tissue. “I want to have it, I’ve always wanted a kid. I think I’m… ready? I’m probably not. Not by myself, and I can’t do this alone. He’ll leave me, won’t he? Why would he want to have a kid with a mortal? We’d die as fast as he blinks”.

“Look, I’m no one to talk about it, but this sounds more like your anxiety and less like something he would do. He really loves you, he has for like at least a year, and I don’t see that going away anytime soon”.

“I know. You might be right”.

“You’re allowed to doubt everything. This is a huge thing, y/n. Think this through, talk to people, talk to your friends, or your parents. Don’t let this eat you”.

“Thanks, Bruce. You’re really… you’re being really nice, I appreciate it”, you sobbed. He handed you another tissue as he rubbed your shoulder.

“This is your call, okay? You have time to think. Text me later how you’re feeling, and have bed rest now. And if you feel too bad, take this”, he handed you some pills, “it should be innocuous for the baby”.

One of those days, that same week, you had decided to make it the official moving day. So, you put every box in the van and drove through the city, to your new home. You haven’t told Loki yet what you knew, and you were terrified he’d get even more upset because you didn’t tell him before the moving. But, to be fair, you didn’t think he’d actually leave.

You had told no one about it, despite Banner’s indications. But it wasn’t eating you. You were enjoying it silently. You were glad; you had your doubts, fears… Hell, you were terrified. But you knew, if Loki wasn’t going to be a part of that, you could do it yourself. You hoped he’d wanted to, though.

Loki and you had started taking the boxes inside, all by hand (to be honest, he was a little scared of the neighbours watching him do things with magic and kicking you two out). You laughed through it, and played races to see who’d finish their boxes first. He was wearing one of those midgardians shirts and pants that melted you completely. He wore that for your anniversary dinner the week before that day, and he noticed how much you loved it on him, so he started wearing fancy casual clothes more often than not.

After about two hours, you were done and completely exhausted. You laid in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes and a strong smell of floorwax and fresh paint, and looked at each other fondly.

“Welcome home”, you said, and he showed you the biggest smile he’s ever done.

“I think this place is perfect. It’s away, but not exactly far from your family for whenever you’d want to be with them”.

“Yes, it’s perfect”, you said, getting up and helping him up. “You know, I have a surprise for you”.

“Really? What is it?”.

“Tonight at dinner, shall we? In the meantime, what about we get something to drink before unpacking?”.

“Can’t wait for tonight, then. Would you like some tea?”, he said, surrounding your waist with his arms. You played gently with his hair.

“Yes”.

“I love you”, he said, giving you a small peck over your smile.

“And I love…”, you started saying, but the entrance got filled with noisy people, interrupting you. Four of your friends were already filling the place, giving you an idea of how a small party would fit in there. “... you”.

“Oh my God! This place is so well illuminated!”, said Wanda, marveled.

“And what’s that smell? Have you been cooking something weird?”, said Nat, less enthusiastic, but equally curious. Sam and Bucky were still on the door, and Sam seemed to have brought food. Like a cake, or something similar. Wanda and Natasha were quick to invade the place without further notice.

“Oh, you got one of those hidden drawers! What are you hiding in there?”.

“Probably sex toys”, guessed Nat.

“I’d say drugs. But, like, alien drugs. You know, from his town”, apported Bucky, now making his way in and leaving the cake over the counter.

“I thought drawers were supposed to be for clothes”, said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but hidden drawers? Sexy clothes”.

“Actually, I’m saving my daggers in there”, finally said Loki, kissing your cheek before pulling away from you, and appearing a cup of tea in each guest with a movement of his wrist.

“Boring”.

“So, guys, what do you think?”, you said as you started opening one of the boxes.

“I think it’s small”, said Tony, as he walked in. Pepper rolled her eyes behind him.

“Don’t listen to him, you guys chose perfectly. This place will look very nice once you paint it and decorate it”.

“It’s already painted”.

“Oh. Well, it… it looks nice”.

“Thanks mom”, you chuckled. “It’s small but we don’t need it to be big”.

“You better be actually saving daggers in here”, Tony peeped inside the hidden drawer. “Now that is not so hidden. I wouldn’t like to open it up someday and find a…”.

“Dad, please”, you rolled your eyes and went to Loki’s side. “Don’t worry, you won’t find anything weird. Just the daggers and knives of my very innocent boyfriend”.

“Well, you’ll have to think further about having knives so close to the floor, you know”, he muttered. Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”.

Tony ignored him and walked to you earnestly, with the most serious face expression you’ve ever seen, and everyone observed quietly. He grabbed you by the shoulders, and inhaled a deep breath. All of the sudden, his eyes got watery, and you realized Banner had told him about the pregnancy. Your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint again, right there. The corners of his lips formed a tiny smile, and he hugged you tightly. Loki was certainly confused now. As far as he knew, Tony didn’t like him, and why would he be so happy about you moving out? It’s not like you were his only child, either.

“I’m so proud of you”, he whispered, and then Loki had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the new apartment, but didn’t ask any further.

That night you managed to cook something special, even though you still hadn’t gotten the gas installed. You cooked together, and laughed at every minor inconvenience the house could give you. The doors of the countertop cabinets were the perfect height for Loki’s 6’4” ass to stump his head every time he tried to open it.

After some time of silent cooking, absorbed on each’s thoughts, Loki asked about your dad’s pride.

“Oh, he’s… well, he just, gets very emotional with these things”. He chuckled at your very obvious lie.

“No, he doesn’t. Certainly not with me”.

“Come on, he likes you now. He likes anyone I love, because you make me happy, and because he has no other choice”.

“Well… I thought he’d be less amused”, he admitted. “Hasn’t he? Other choice, I mean”.

“I don’t think so. He’d have to deal. Family is family”.

“Oh, do I know about that”, he said, cutting a carrot more strongly than before. You laughed.

“I meant it in a good way”.

“Well, your family is one thing, mine is another… I can’t push yours to like me, as much as I would like to. They’re very nice, and I wish I had a family like that, but I don’t”.

“Love, family is built”, you said, this time a little more serious. He repressed a smile, still looking at the vegetables. “You’re part of this, too, you know?”.

“Of this?”.

“You’re family”.

He didn’t repress the smile this time.

“You’re right. You’re my family, too, my love”.

“You…”, you took a deep breath. It was the perfect moment. “Do you ever imagine us in the future?”.

“Why yes, of course”.

“Really?”.

“I want to spend all your life with you. I didn’t want to rush into things because… I don’t know, scaring you out of anything, but I…”, he said, and the alarm on your phone went off, to take the rice from the fridge. You two laughed at how mundane this conversation seemed. “But I love you, and I want you by my side”.

“Okay. Well I do too. That’s good, right? That’s good”.

“Yes, of course it’s good, why so doubtful?”, he laughed, grabbing a tomato and stabbing it.

“Because I’m pregnant”.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, without actually realizing what you just said. And then, he fell. “Hold on, what did you just say?”.

“I’m… I’m having a baby. Yours, of course”, you clarified. You felt like you had to, but it wasn’t actually necessary. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh dear” he paused. He left the knife over the counter and looked at you, looking for any trace of a joke. You weren’t joking, and you grew nervous as he let time pass by without saying a word. “How could you not tell me this before moving in?”, he muttered, still in a bit of a shock.

“Oh. Well… I…”.

“I wouldn’t have let you carry those heavy boxes, love, I’m so sorry”, he said, and cupped your cheeks. “Are you really…?”. You sighed in relief. For a moment you thought of the worse.

“Yes, I am”.

His arms embraced you completely, hugging you as tight as he allowed himself to. He muttered how much he loved you, and how happy you had just made him, for the rest of his life.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, he cuddled you from behind with his hands on your tummy and his lips on your bare shoulder. You could feel his soft breathing grazing your skin, and his warmth keeping you safe.

“Loki”, you whispered, checking if he was still awake. You couldn’t sleep.

“Yes, love?”, he whispered back.

“Are you sure you want to be a daddy? With me?”.

He turned you around, and lowered his head to your abdomen. He sank his face and kissed all around your stomach and hips, leaving a trace of kisses up to your neck, and then your lips.

“How could I not?”, he whispered in a low voice. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, teased “besides, the word daddy comes out so well from your lips”.

You laughed softly, and after some more silence that was fairly filled with loving stares, a thought crossed his head and you saw the light of his eyes turn to dark.

“What is it, love?”, you put a strand of his hair behind an ear.

“I… I’m just realizing something bad”, he said, and you nodded. “I’m a Frost Giant”.

“Why is it bad?”.

“My actual form is bigger than this. And… colder. And if the baby were Jötun too...”.

“You think the baby might hurt me?”.

“They might. I don’t know. Oh no, what if they hurts you?”, he began to panic, and you shushed him, kissing his temples.

“Don’t worry, Lokes. If that’s the case, we’ll figure it out”, you reassured him. “And maybe it’s not. And we’ll have a little and very healthy half-Jötun running around this small apartment. When have we not solved our issues? We’re good at that bit”.

“You’re right. You’re right, my dear”. He sighed, and then chuckled. “Should we have gotten a bigger place?”.

“We’ll be a very close family”, you laughed.

“We already are”, he whispered, cuddling back to you. “We are a very close family”.

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki odinson #loki fic #lucywrites19 #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x y/n stark

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weirdthinkingdragon · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome To The Family (6/???)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / here

Yandere EraserMic household x reader

Fun fact- Tadao was a sudden decision I made up on the spot after chapter 3 and wasn’t expecting to really make him a character other than a mentioned person with a mold/fungus quirk. I did though, and already love him as an OC more than I should. Oops.

It might be a long while before the next chapter. I think I may have drained myself a bit from focusing on this story so much.

Warnings- swearing, slight coercion I think? Not really sure but better safe than sorry.

I promise the darker stuff is coming soon.

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

I wake up to someone calling me. Hitoshi? Why is he calling me at… 9 in the morning? Come on dude, I want to sleep more for dinner tonight. My fault for hanging out with Tadao a bit later last night than usual. He’s started walking with me to our apartment for the past few days. I wonder why we haven’t hung out until now. Meanwhile, Ryo and I seemed to drift apart. They refuse to even look at me now when I saw them last night.

Ugh, might as well answer it. “Hey, Hitoshi. You need something?” I tiredly slur from just waking up.

“Sorry for waking you…” Apologized the familiar voice of Eri. Wait, Eri? Why does she have Hitoshi’s phone? The wonder why she has his phone wakes me up a bit more.

“Oh, hey, Eri. Is something wrong?” A slight panic enters me in the possibility something bad could have happened to one of the guys. “Wait, is everyone okay?”

“We’re good. Just wanted to talk a bit with you before tonight.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Hitoshi in the background.

Relief floods me. “That’s good. What about?”

“Our dads!” Eri cheerfully informs.

My eyes narrow in confusion. “What about them?”

“What do you think of them?” Hitoshi asks. Huh? Why does this need to be talked about now? Maybe because more likely than not the two adults are asleep, and won’t hear the conversation?

I’m too tired to be filtered right now, so whatever comes to mind is whatever is going to be said. “They’re… An interesting two, to say the least. Hizashi seems like someone I can rely on to cheer me up pretty easily if I’m ever down, and after that day Shouta was sick, I realize Shouta’s secretly a lot more caring than he lets on. Still wouldn’t want to pi- anger him.” Ugh, it’s too early. I nearly just swore with Eri there! Well, saying “piss him off” wouldn’t have been that bad, but she needs to keep that innocence at least for a while yet.

Hitoshi laughs, probably catching on with what I almost said. “Seen it first-hand with his class. Can’t say I recommend it either.”

“What about looks?” Eri suddenly asks, catching me off-guard. What do their looks have to do with anything? They’re also a married couple, so whatever I think is invalid anyways.

“Well, had this weird thought of wondering what Hizashi would look like with his hair fully down when we went to the festival, but that’s really not something that I need to tell him. It’s something I probably shouldn’t be wondering in the first place.”

“What’s the problem in wondering that? It’s just hair.”

“Says the one who always looks like he stuck his head out a car window and hair decided to stay that way.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

I go back onto the topic. “Otherwise, I’m not really sure what to talk about with them. It’s their choices of what they wear. Though it IS pretty funny imagining Hizashi forcing Shouta to wear something he normally wouldn’t.”

“It’s happened more than once before.”

I tiredly let out a laugh. “I believe it.”

“Daddy made him wear a dress!”

An almost inhuman sound comes out of me at the thought of Shouta deeply frowning with a strapless hot pink dress forced onto him, and the only reason he does it is Hizashi would probably keep pestering him otherwise.

“Maybe sometime we could get him to do it again with you here. It’s quite a thing to see.”

“Oh, really? How did he not kill you for laughing?”

“He almost did,” he replies jokingly.

“If he tries to attack me when I’m there, you’re taking the blow.” I joke back.

He goes silent for a moment. “He wouldn’t dare. If he did, he’d have an angry little girl scolding him.”

“Toooshiiii!”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, want to tell them what you’ll wear?”

“No! It’s a surprise!”

“Right back at you two,” I inform the slightly bickering duo.

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

We both hung up after a bit more of talking about tonight. I could swear there was someone talking in the background for a second, but I brushed it off as the T.V. Eri was probably watching something earlier and forgot to lower the volume.

After playing on my computer for a while since it’s close to my bed, I decided to just get up and get ready. There are not many fancy things I have, so it’s quite limited on what to wear. Hopefully, they don’t mind if it’s a bit more casual than fancy. There’s plenty of time to shop for something, but I’m honestly too lazy to go anywhere. Just something of my favorite color and slightly more fancy than my daily clothes should work.

I have to dig much deeper into my closet to find said clothing from not wearing it too often.

One of my favorite color is grabbed. Nope, that’s not it.

I move a few more. Wait, there it is! I move a few more pieces of clothing and grab it, pulling it out. Hopefully, it still fits. Welp, time to try. I take off my pajamas.

Like a glove. Perfect!

Just to make sure there are no new forgotten holes or something, I look at myself in my body mirror. Huh, I actually look pretty good in this! I might have to wear it more often. Something feels like it’s missing though. Maybe a ring or something would help?

I look over to the select few rings I have, including the forgotten one Ryo gave me. My heart slightly twinges at remembering they gave it as a best friends type of ring years ago. A ring with real blue topaz fitting my middle finger.

Might as well wear it. I slip it on and decide to leave my room, though they won’t be here for a while yet. Maybe Tadao will be around.

My body instinctively starts looking around for the familiar- oh, not again. Does he LIKE sleeping on the floor in the hall or something? I walk up to his sleeping form. I gently nudge him to move with my foot.

He groans, and curls his head deeper onto his arm, also bringing his legs up so he’s a ball. “Come on dude, I know your quirk is related to mold and all, but you’re not supposed to BECOME it.”

“I am one with the floor… I shall be the floor…” He mumbles, probably sleep talking.

I nudge him harder, making him open his eyes to look up at me. “Heyyy Y/N. What time is it?” He sluggishly asks.

I check my phone. “Already half-past noon.”

That got his attention. Both of his eyes snapped open as he shot to sit up. He grabs his rather cracked phone and looks at it. There are a few messages on the screen without him unlocking it. They’re impossible to read as he seems frantic after looking at them. “Already!? Man, I gotta get ready! I’ll be late for work!”

I don’t even get the chance to ask him anything since he gets to his feet and sprints off past my door, probably to his.

Glancing at Ryo’s door, the thought of checking on them arises. No, they’re deciding on acting out like this. Crawling to them could only continue this childish way again at some point. Ugh, what to do now though? It will be boring to just sit around for the next few hours. The park could be good for a few hours.

The villains around though? Nah. Welp, more computer time.

Familiar brown hair in the corner of my eye catches my attention before returning to my door. It’s the woman that glared at me with Hizashi at the studio. What’s she doing around here? Never saw her around before, and she doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to like parties. Funny if she’s attracted to Hizashi like he told me.

She keeps her glare on me as she… Knocks on Ryo’s door? Oh hell no. There’s no way Ryo is hanging out with someone like that. I’m proven wrong though as Ryo opens the door and pulls them in without looking at me.

I- What? What’s going on lately?

Also, okay, what the ever-loving fuck Ryo!?

Calm down, give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the woman hasn’t told Ryo anything about my work, and maybe it can just be a sudden meeting they did at one point, and it’s an opposites attract type of friendship. After all, I haven’t really been around. They were bound to try to find someone else to hang out with I suppose. Should this be a concern to bring up with Hizashi and Shouta though?

I stand there still staring at Ryo’s door and blink confusedly. They couldn’t have found anyone better to hang out with? Even a villain would have been better than her in my opinion. Sure, more trouble from me being around two- basically three- heroes could arise, but I’d be willing to keep that kind of secret for them. But this? This gives me a bad feeling.

What if she’s the reason Ryo is acting so odd?

Next Sunday will be the day to get some answers from them. If they will talk to me, that is.

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

Time seems to slip by while being on my computer. My phone notifies me of a text message. I look at it to see it’s from Hizashi.

“Hitoshi’s coming in to get ya! We’re waiting!” My eyes widen noticing it’s already past six at night.

I try to text him ASAP to not let Hitoshi come in. They won’t be happy with my living place. “That will be fine, call him off. I’ll be out shortly.”

“Too late! Sorry!”

I sigh. He doesn’t even know which one mine is! I put my computer away and quickly left. Looking left and right, there’s familiar purple hair far down on the right. Obviously, it’s Hitoshi. He is staring with great disgust at the peeling walls and ripped-up flooring. Oh boy, it’s probably a disaster with what is about to happen in the vehicle now.

The hallway is rather dimly lit now, making it slightly hard to see, but it’s easy to tell he’s wearing a suit matching his eye color. I’m feeling pretty underdressed now.

“Hey, Hitoshi. You could have waited outside. Uh… You probably should have no offense.”

He glares at a piece of wall that falls off onto the floor. “How do you live in this?”

I shrug. “Eh, you get used to it,” I noticed his frustrated expression. He’s about to ask me why I don’t move or something since I clearly could with my pay. “And before you say anything, I rather like it here. It’s where a lot of my closest friends are.”

His eyes narrow at me. “You could still visit instead of living here.”

Someone jumps upstairs, making the place shake, and a piece of the ceiling on this level chips off and falls next to the wall piece on the floor.

“That’s new,” I comment. It’s true, the ceiling has never fallen before. Makes me wonder when this whole building is going to collapse. Bit worried for my friends here now.

Hitoshi looks at me like I just told him the world is going to end tomorrow.

I start walking to the exit, having Hitoshi follow behind me too closely for my taste. Makes sense if he’s doing it for my protection, but he obviously doesn’t know these people as I do. He almost could be felt against my back. “You mind standing back a bit? You’re rather close.”

He does, but just barely.

It doesn't take long for us to get to the vehicle. Just like before, I get in the center and hug Eri. The slight light in the car makes it hard to see her dress, but I'm pretty sure it's a bright silverish blue. The light wasn't on long enough to notice the two up front.

They do seem to notice Hitoshi in a slightly on edge type of way. For the moment the light was on.

"What's wrong, little hypno-man?"

"Their apartment is not fitting to live in."

"What?" Hizashi's tone almost drastically changes. I'm glad I can't see them right now. I focus on the scenery past Hitoshi to try ignoring the growing unease of him whistleblowing to them.

"It's falling apart. A part of the wall fell to the floor. The inside is much worse than the outside."

"Why are you still living there? You can easily move with the money we give you." Shouta pipes up.

"Because I like living there. It's a walking distance from your place, and all my friends are there."

"You could visit them some other time if you moved. We'd pay a bus for you if needed."

"Exactly! Or I could drive ya to our place! It wouldn't be a problem, and it would give me a little somethin' to do while the grump wakes up in the morning!"

I don't feel comfortable at the thought of having to rely on them like that. They're already so busy themselves, it really wouldn't be fair to them despite what they say.

“Uh… no. Thanks for the offer, but my place is good for now.”

The air is rather tense, telling me that they want to push more on the subject, but decide not to for now.

I decided to bring up what happened earlier. “Remember that bad woman from before?”

“You mean Chiyo?” Shouta spits her name with such hate, someone would think he’d murder her if he could. Hizashi must have told him about our meeting in his studio. Wait, Isn’t that a first name?

As if reading my mind, Hizashi answers for Shouta. “She doesn’t deserve the respect of last name. What about her?”

“I discovered today she might be hanging out with one of my closest friends that doesn’t seem to be too happy with me lately. Isn’t it a bit of a concern she might tell them that I babysit for you guys?”

“That’s confidential information. Like it was said to you before you started, you can’t tell anyone our identities. They can get into serious trouble if they do, and they signed a contract accepting they wouldn’t.” Shouta replies.

“That’s good to know.” I say, sounding relieved. They could be told how Ryo thinks they’re bad parents for me babysitting so often, but that’s something that probably doesn’t need to be brought up. Especially if she can’t tell Ryo about it.

Hizashi pulls up and parks in front of the restaurant we must be dining in. wait- fuck, I’ve heard of this place. It’s one of the most expensive restaurants around here! We exit and enter the restaurant. The first thing I noticed was how well-dressed the two men were. Shouta was wearing a navy blue suit, white undershirt, and a light brown tie. Oddly, he’s also wearing glasses. When did he need glasses?

Hizashi was wearing a cream-colored suit with a dark grey undershirt and a tie matching his eye color. Looking at the four of them and the others around, I am… severely underdressed. Doesn’t feel much better with everyone that stares at me from their tables for a moment.

Wait- Hizashi’s. Hair. Is. Fully. Down. I whip my head towards Hitoshi and glare in betrayal.

He notices with a smirk, and puts his hands in front of himself in mock-defense. “Don’t look at me. He was there then, just didn’t speak.”

My eyes narrow. “So it really WASN’T the T.V.” Seriously though!? That’s so embarrassing! He must have heard everything!

Him and Hizashi chuckle at me, making me feel worse.

A woman comes up from the counter. “Please tell me the name of your reservation.”

“The Aizawa’s.” Um… I’m not exactly a part of this family? Well, it does make sense though I guess just to do a last name. Hizashi smirks at Shouta while he glares in return.

“Right this way please.” She starts to lead the five of us to a table farther in the back. The enormous chandeliers overhead from the really tall ceiling are slightly intimidating if I’m to be honest. Each crystal is taller than Hizashi from the top of his hair in his hero costume to his feet.

The white and gold walls of the place give a surprisingly calming type of effect. It’s rather cool in here as well. Probably to help combat the ones who wear layers of clothes to be more fancy or something.

“You couldn’t have chosen anything else?” Shouta hisses quietly enough for the woman not to hear, but I’m close enough that I can. I’m right between them from behind while Hitoshi and Eri are behind me. I can swear Hitoshi keeps trying to nudge me forward closer to them.

“Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it babe! Besides, you and I both know you’re known much less than me! This way they won’t know us!” He leans even closer to Shouta. “And don’t deny it, you know you like the thought of me bein’ called an Aizawa~”

I can see red start to cover the side of Shouta’s face even though he tries his best to hide and prevent it. Ha! Now he’s the one to be embarrassed!

I let out a chuckle, making Hizashi turn and give me a toothy grin.

We get to a table with booth seats. The color of them is surprisingly similar to Eri’s dress.

I go to sit with Hitoshi and Eri, but like before, Hizashi grabs my wrist and has me sit between him and Shouta. Why do you keep doing this to me dude!? Shouta is on my right by the wall with Hizashi on my left by the opening.

Eri is sitting by the wall with Hitoshi by the opening in front of us. I didn’t notice before, but her dress has some candy apple red jewels the shape of diamonds, adorning the dress even more than it already was. Must be new since it’s never been seen by me before.

… I don’t like the closeness of the two men beside me again. Saying it is uncomfortable is an understatement. A difference than before is the heat of their thighs radiating through their pants onto mine.

The woman hands us menus. “Someone will be here to take your orders shortly.”

I try to brush them off while looking at the menu.

“Hey Y/N, are ya datin’ anyone?”

“Maybe.” They don’t need to know I’m not.

“That’s a yes or no question.” Shouta states with slight annoyance. He must have forgotten I told him I’m not the day he was sick.

“They better not be a villain. We’d hate to have to do something to you and them. Better be honest, you’re not looking the best right now.” Hitoshi accuses.

What the heck Hitoshi!? You’re just going to turn on me like this!? Why I ought to come over there and smack the back of your head myself!

My saving grace as the waiter comes- Tadao!? This is where he works!? He comes up to our table with a notepad in front of him. "Hello, I’m Ito, and I’ll be your waiter for tonight. What can I get you started with?”

“Tadao, you work here?”

His head snaps up from the notepad, and looks at me. “Oh hey, Y/N!” His face becomes a smirk. “What happened to calling me glowstick?”

“Well, you’re not really glowing right now in this light, are you?”

“Ha, you got me there.”

The three men look between us with some look I don’t really understand.

“Ya know each other?”

“You could say we’re close.” Tadao informs. They grow rather deep frowns at the news.

He clears his throat and brings his notepad up. “What drinks could I start you guys with?” We each tell him our drinks and he writes them down. “All right, drinks coming right up!” He leaves to go get them.

“He’s one of the reasons I don’t move out of my apartment. Especially now. We’ve become really close recently.”

“You should stay away from him. He seems like bad news.” Hitoshi informs.

??? huh? “Why, do you know he has a villain record or something?”

“He could be using you. Stay away from him or we might have to make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Okay, THAT pisses me off. “First of all, you guys can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with outside of babysitting hours. Second of all, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could be less judging of him, because he has never done anything even slightly villainous whenever we met.” My slightly edged tone makes them back off the topic. I wanted to add third of all being he walks with me at night to our apartment place, but that seems like a bad idea if their reaction is this so far.

It grows awkwardly silent between us all for a moment. Maybe I should have kept the others to myself too, but damn it, they need to have more respect for my decisions they were never a part of, and have no need to be a part of.

Tadao comes with our drinks. He places them down, and Hizashi immediately takes a big drink of his.

“Here you guys go, and one drink for one special person.” He jokingly winks at me.

I roll my eyes in response. “Sometimes I truly wonder if I hate you.” I tease.

He rolls his eyes in return. “Admit it, you know you love me.”

Hizashi chokes on his drink. I don’t help him from still being a bit upset. He should be fine anyways after a bit.

He does, and is able to manage keeping his quirk down as well.

“Do I?” I question teasingly.

The three men glare at him. Sheesh, what’s their problem?

He seems rather uncomfortable by it and leaves in a rush immediately after taking our orders. After I almost had a heart attack from the beyond insane prices, of course. Even the cheapest thing is over half the money I’m given a day for babysitting.

I’m getting pretty upset with these guys right now. Starting to wonder if they got hit with some odd quirk again or something.

That calms me down a bit since it would kind of make sense that’s why they’re acting odd. How long will it last though? Better not be long. I don’t know if I can handle them like this without losing my mind.

“Hey, Y/N. We have something for you,” Hitoshi pipes up, and nods towards Hizashi.

“Right!” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a… necklace? It has my favorite type of jewel in it, encased behind and around the edges with what looks like real gold. A different shine is on it, like something is covering the gold to prevent it from easily being destroyed by weather or wear. The shape is in a rather large teardrop. It looks custom-made as well. Never seen anything even close to what this looks like before.

“It’s a gift!” Eri cheerfully chimes in.

“That she helped us pick for you.” Shouta informs.

Please don’t tell me it’s authentic. It looks real though. I can’t even begin to imagine the price of what it must have cost to create it if it is real. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this! It feels too much like I’m just using you guys if I do!”

The three of them frown. Even Eri seems a bit disappointed.

Eri asking me my favorite jewel kind of makes sense now, but why would they want to give this to me?

“C’mon, let’s put it on ya!” He hands it over to Hitoshi and stands up, pulling me to stand up with him. Hitoshi stands as well.

“Did you guys not hear me? I- I can’t accept it!”

Hizashi shakes his head. “Don’t be so worried, dear little lovesong! We want you to have it! Ya can’t just say no, we spent too much for it to go to waste now!”

Hitoshi goes behind me with the necklace and is able to put it on while I’m still rather reluctant to accept such a gift.

Eri’s eyes almost seem to sparkle when the clasp gets shut on it. “You look amazing!”

I freeze in my tracks to notice everyone is staring at us yet again. This time with slightly different reactions. A couple of them seem to be with envy, making me want to shrivel up and hide in a hole, and others seem to be appreciative I have something more expensive than my clothes now or something.

At least Shouta seems to give me mercy by pulling me back down in the booth and glaring at them all in such a way that they all stop staring. I’m feeling a bit like a ragdoll at this point.

Hitoshi joins him, making sure they truly stop. The glare combined of those two could probably curdle the blood of All Might himself.

The restaurant seems to grow quiet between all of us.

I decide to escape by using the bathroom. Hizashi didn’t have time to sit back down before it was necessary. “Stay here, it won’t take me long.” They still seem reluctant to let me go alone.

Getting to the bathrooms, I didn’t have to go, just wanted to get out of the stares and whispers for a little bit. Despite the men’s glares, of course there was still going to be gossip of someone in here who looks so out of place.

“Hey, Y/N, be careful around them, alright? They’re pretty strange.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Tadao behind me.

I play dumb. He probably shouldn’t know I know they must have been hit with some kind of quirk. “How do you know? They could just be being cautious since their children are with.”

“I admit, I did watch you a bit at the festival. More so the men you were with when they came. Something about them isn’t... “ He seems to be struggling with figuring out how to explain it. “It’s wrong. I just can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Again, just be careful, alright?”

I just nod and enter the bathroom.

A bit after cooling off, I go back to the dinner table, them all still waiting and chatting about school. Well, Shouta being nearly silent as usual. Hizashi quickly stands up to let me sit between them again. Ugh, I really don’t want to.

Yet I do, just to be kind. The least I can do is sit through this since they went through the effort of such a gift, even though to me it seems highly unnecessary.

Tadao comes with our food not much later with a secret frown on his face. He’s smiling, but I’ve learned him well enough by now it’s worry he has instead of a cheerful personality. It slightly drops to reveal his true emotions when he notices the guys glaring at him yet again. He doesn’t say a word, just drops all of the food off and leaves.

This feels like a really ruined dinner, even though this food is incredibly good. The atmosphere has definitely become shit. I seem to be the only one to notice. Hizashi looks over towards me and gives me another grin, not giving much comfort. What’s worse is every time I stop for a moment and rest my hand on my lap, Shouta seems to try to grab it. It led me to just keeping the utensil for my dinner in my hand.

I’ll have to apologize to Tadao for their behavior tomorrow. Easier said than done since I still can’t exactly tell him who they are. Cursed contract.

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

taglist-

@dabi-s-whore, @angelicblackwolf, @fuegy-fuegy

Double fun fact- Did you know slapping someone’s back if they’re choking is actually worse than letting them try to get it out themselves, especially if it’s food? The food can actually get lodged deeper in their throat at the impact. Huh, First Aid is quite interesting.

#Yandere EraserMic household #x reader #yanderes x reader #platonic yandere shinsou x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #welcome to the family #yandere poly x reader

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qslovebot · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Escapade: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid and the reader have been crushing on each other since they met, but neither of them cared to admit it. When doubled up in a hotel room for the night, reader tries to convince Spencer to go with her at 12:30am to get frozen yogurt to cheer him up and it turns into much more than a snack run.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Swearing, mutual pining (a long time of pining leads up to this fic), food, mention of Sept 11, 2001, self-doubt, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 4533

The case was solved, closed, and finally, your eyes could rest. The case you had just finished was particularly stressful to not only you, but your fellow BAU members as well. You all hadn't slept for nearly twenty-nine hours and Hotch decided it was best you all got the rest you deserved at a nearby hotel.

The ride there, you struggled to keep your eyes open, but Spencer Reid was on another greatly interesting rant about a show he liked, so you figured you would try to stay awake to hear it. You always listened to him because a lot of the time, the rest of the team dismissed him and his oddly accurate monologues. They grew tired of Spencer talking so much about things they didn't understand but you were rather the opposite- and that's probably because you liked Spencer so much.

The two of you met when he was introduced to the BAU. Praised for his mind, he introduced himself to you with a shaky voice and a meek handshake. You instantly admired him from his geeky personality outwards to his tall, thin self with a face sculpted by artists. Little did you know he did the same, but immediately thought of you as out of his league, so he stayed quiet.

You had been friends since then, pairing up on cases as your minds seemed to work like a perfectly oiled machine when together. Like Penelope and Derek, you two were known for the science jokes no one understood and shared looks of adoration that the both of you somehow didn't recognize as romantic. But everyone else saw it.

Derek Morgan teased a lot. He talked to Reid about working with the 'pretty girl' every day, poking him in the side and messing with his hair. The geek and the girl who was smart as hell, but didn't make it her dominant trait.

A doctor and the outgoing agent who matched the loudness of Penelope Garcia at times at karaoke night. You brought more liveliness to the BAU- more music, more spinning, more levity in dark cases. Spencer was always trying to hide a smile when you walked in, trying to pretend he hadn't been waiting for you to bring him coffee each morning. You didn't need an eidetic memory to remember his order and that, for some reason, always sent him over the moon.

But you were here now, listening to him wrap up his story as you fought the sleep that was looming over you as the car came to a stop outside the hotel.

"-And that was the end of it all. I think it's so fascinating how they wrapped everything up into this intricate timeline of interactions and moments and backtracks. We should, uh, watch it sometime." He said as he hopped out of the back, holding his small bag and yours.

You sleepily hopped out after him, hoping you didn't look like you felt, because you truly felt like hell. "Yeah, I'd like that," was all you could really mumble out. He passed you your bag and you smiled your thank you.

Emily held you up by the shoulders as Hotch sent through the check-in information. "Some case, huh?" She laughed as you rubbed your left eye. "I suppose we can't make this a girl's night of post-case celebration if you're dead asleep."

You groaned, "You wanted to do that? Damn it, Em, I'm sorry-"

"You need beauty sleep, (Y/N). I'm not mad or anything, I'll just take a bath and pull out an adult romance novel." A smirk played on her lips as she raised her eyebrows. You chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, no worries."

"Did I hear talk of a romance novel?" Derek shuffled over. "Which one are we reading? 50 Shades of Grey?"

Spencer stepped in, "Did you know that 50 Shades of Grey is actually fanfiction written about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga? If you go further back, Stephanie started Twilight as written alternate universe fanfiction where the emo-slash-hardcore band My Chemical Romance were all vampires. But My Chemical Romance was started by musician and comic book creator- who published a series of comics called The Umbrella Academy in 2008, unrelated, his name was - Gerard Way, who created the band to make music that expressed the trauma he was given from witnessing the twin towers falling on September 11th, 2001."

Emily looked at him, jaw open. "So Nine-Eleven essentially created a badly-written and toxic sex novel, years later?"

Spencer nodded, eyes flickering to you for a brief moment. Derek grinned at Emily, "So you have read 50 Shades of Grey, huh?" He teased. She swat at his wiggly fingers away as Hotch walked over, brow furrowed.

"Rooms need to be doubled up tonight. Morgan, you can come with me. As much as you may hate it, I feel like (Y/L/N) here might collapse on the spot, so we can't go anywhere else." He handed Spencer and Emily a key, expecting them to make their own choices. Of course, Emily knew exactly what she needed to do when Hotch walked off. You were about to turn and go with her, but she bolted off, reaching for JJ.

You looked up at Spencer Reid who had his mouth in a shy, straight-lipped smile. You both knew what this meant, but you were glad you'd get to crash somewhere, floor or not. The room was on the fifth floor, so you took the elevator with Spencer in silence that you were sure he was granting you until you reached the door of your room.

"I will... take the floor tonight," he said, sticking the key in the lock. "You're tired and I'm just going to get dinner and um... read."

His watch read 4:34 pm- it was so much earlier than you had thought, but you were almost collapsing. "I'm sorry," were the last words you could reply with before you walked into the room, got into the bed, and you were out, cold.

You had never had such a fulfilling sleep. You woke up feeling clean, fresh, renewed and restored. There was no groggy feeling that you had accidentally travelled to another dimension while asleep. The room was dim, except for the lamp that was on in the right corner.

When you peered over the edge of the bed, there was Spencer, laying on his stomach with few pillows under his chest and elbows, a book in his hands. He looked peaceful, quiet, calm. "Spence," you whispered. He practically jumped out of his skin and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." You grinned.

He smiled sheepishly, setting down his book. "You're awake."

You nodded back, "How long was I out?"

"Since 4:34, so... 8 hours and 20 minutes. It's only 12:22am." Spencer sat up and against the wall while you adjusted yourself to sit cross-legged. You were still in your clothes from earlier and it surprised you to see Spencer in less preppy clothing.

Well, less preppy for him. No cardigan, no dress shirt, just a t-shirt that read 'math is as easy as pi' with the pi symbol made of cherry pie and his regular khaki pants. "Aren't you tired?" you asked, smiling from his shirt, back to him.

"No, uh, I actually got about four hours in the middle of your eight. I usually don't dream anymore but I actually dreamt I was falling, which is a sign of..." he stopped himself, but he was with another profiler, what was the use, you could already fill in the blanks. He continued, "Which is a sign of insecurity and inferiority, but I don't believe in dream analysis..."

You furrowed your brow, watching his eyes look down at his hands. "Are you feeling insecure and inferior, Dr.Reid, because need I remind you that 99% of the time, it's your brain that leads us to solve the cases."

He shook his head, "Thinking myself over, I'd-I'd say it doesn't revolve around work." The stutter was back. He hadn't talked to you with a stutter in months, you'd assumed it was just because he wasn't as comfortable around you then, but now it was back. Spencer Reid needed to be cheered up, something was wrong.

"Well you know you can tell me anything, right? I've kept secrets about my friends since grade one, I can keep yours." You slipped off of the bed and walked to your bag on the table in the far corner. You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you went, so you shot him a smile over your shoulder. He reverted back to looking at his hands.

Through situations and being friends, you knew Spencer was insecure. He was bullied constantly as a child, some going as far as to strip him down and beat him. Disgusting, self-esteem-ruining acts you wished you could remove from his eidetic memory.

You took off your button-up blouse to stay in your white t-shirt that lay underneath. You hadn't the time to remove it before falling asleep. Thinking about that- you probably had bedhead too. Your balled-up shirt was shoved into your bag and you pulled out a brush in exchange, to get the knots out of your hair.

"I could really go for frozen yogurt right now," you said, running the wooden brush through your hair. Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, a little confused. "I haven't eaten dinner."

"It's nearly 12:30 am..." Spencer said. It looked like he was running through his vast mind to find a scientific explanation as to why you might have wanted frozen yogurt at half-past midnight. You let him, a teasing smile on your lips as you pulled the top bit of your hair up. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, out of the blue, entirely serious. Seemed like the only logical explanation he could find. You nearly choked on the air.

"No, Spencer, I am not pregnant!" You laughed. His face tightened as he went back to searching his mind. "I just want frozen yogurt. Regular cravings, not... pregnancy cravings. Are you coming?"

He looked at you, oddly surprised he was invited. "Why?"

"Why not?" You picked up his jacket from the hook and tossed it to him. "Nobody has to see your cheesy math shirt."

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, but went right back to being analytical, a mumbling rant with hand gestures.

"The average half-cup serving of frozen yogurt alone has about 17.3 grams of sugar and plus various toppings, the sugar is upped to at least 25 grams. But, versus a half-cup serving of vanilla ice cream, the sugar is only about 14 grams and with toppings can be upped to about 22. Fat-wise-"

You interrupted him because this was seemingly the only way to lift his mood and he was making excuses to stay here and wallow. "Come on, for once, let's be able to act like the youngest members of the team. Once, Spence. I don't need a play-by-play on how much sugar is in it- though I did find that interesting-I just want frozen yogurt and I would like you to come with me. I'll pay for yours if you want any, just... please?"

He met your eyes with a curl falling down his forehead and quickly looked back at his hands. You'd been friends for nearly a year and four months and he still couldn't look you in the eyes for long. He really wasn't good at refusing you at all, either.

Spencer nodded and you practically beamed. Maybe this would help to take his mind off of what was bothering him, even if the distraction was brief. You jumped on the spot and slipped on your own jacket and grabbed your wallet, ready to go and by the door.

He had a small smile when the two of you stepped out, his hands behind his back. You locked the door behind you and the two of you walked silently to the elevator, careful not to accidentally wake anyone else in case they decided to peer out into the hall.

In the elevator, you turned and looked up at Spencer who was fiddling with his hands. "You look nervous, Spence. It's frozen yogurt, not a pretty girl."

"Well I'm with-" he stopped himself again and actually started laughing his breathy laugh, squeezing his own hand so hard his knuckles turned white while his cheeks and nose went a little pink. "You..." He finished, rocking on his heels.

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. Though you mentally disagreed with him sometimes on your appearance, you smiled and looked back up at him. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

He shrugged himself further into his jacket, hands still wildly fidgeting. "Thank you..."

You both stepped out of the elevator the moment it got to the ground floor, looking for air that wasn't filled with odd tension neither of you could explain. You two walked through the lobby and into the cool midnight air outside, where things were open, dark, and still.

You shut your eyes for a moment and opened your arms to face the gentle, cool wind that blew your hair and hit your face gently. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes again to Spencer in a similar state, but much less relaxed looking. Instead, it looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Spence, you look out of it," you said, folding your arms over your chest. You had gotten him outside, now maybe instead of distracting him from whatever it was, you could help him through it. It was part of being a friend- profiling wasn't needed to see he was thinking long and hard over something that bothered him. "You can tell me what's wrong."

He started walking down the street toward the neon lights that shone bright with the word 'fro-yo', you stepped quickly to follow. "If I like a girl.. h-how am I supposed to go about telling her?" He asked, not even looking at you. His forehead was creased and his hands in his jacket pockets.

So this was about a girl he liked. Spencer Reid had a crush. Of course, you were oblivious it was you, but Spencer Reid was romantically interested in someone!

Yay?

An odd feeling of happiness came with finding this out and there was an uprising feeling within you like the first drop on a rollercoaster, but it lingered... and it was much less happy. You ignored it, of course, letting your outer emotions display themselves.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia- have you finally found a girl that puts you at a loss for words?" You teased, pressing the back of your hand to your head for dramatic effect, struggling to keep up with him.

His mouth twitched, "Maybe."

"Well, to be honest, Spence, just... tell her. Just go at it- ask to kiss her, maybe, then confess after. Or... or, you could confess, see how she takes it, then you can see if you should or shouldn't kiss her based off of if you get rejected or not." You told him, catching him by the shoulder to get him to slow down at the entrance of the frozen yogurt place.

He was much taller than you, so that came with him being that much faster, but that didn't matter now, he had stopped. Spencer looked at you, concern in his eyes, panic. You smiled kindly, "She won't reject you. I don't know any girl who would even think of it." Reassurance, because he needed it.

His eyes trailed to the ground and he ran a hand through his hair, opening the door for you. "And w-what do I say?" Spencer asked when you both went inside. You were the only two there and the cashier must have been in the back room.

You hopped over to the flavours, "I mean, whatever feels right, Spence. If you feel like going on a long, romantic, poet-written rant about how much you like her, do that. If you're afraid to bore her, you can wait for her to speak, but the truth is if she can't listen to you rant, she probably isn't worth going for."

He evaluated your words while you casually got yourself vanilla frozen yogurt. He also scanned the flavours, probably mentally shaming the company for marketing this as somewhat healthier. You giggled watching him try to figure out how to get the yogurt out of the machine as you put raspberries in yours.

"(Y/N), uh..." he said quietly, gesturing you over. The genius's mind was scrambled enough to miss the lever in front of him. You took his cup from him and pulled the lever, to which he made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded comprehensively.

"Chocolate mocha," you smiled, handing it to him as he stood there sheepishly again. "Good choice."

You spun back to your yogurt, adding a bit of honey over the top of it all. He followed, choosing raspberries as well, silently adding them. He still didn't seem at rest with the girl thing, you noticed by the way he was failing to open the scoop-box of cookie crumbs. He had long fingers, usually nimble ones, but not so much right now. Spencer was too stressed to work properly. Error in the system, you may have joked if things weren't so bad with him.

When you were both finished, Spencer tapped the little service bell on the desk and a little woman, maybe mid-30s came out wearing the merchandise of the shop. You both placed your cups on the scale and she weighed them for the price, but both you and Spencer pulled out your wallets.

He put his card out faster, so you swat his hand with your card and paid while he mumbled "Ow..." Of course, you checked to see if he was really hurt, but he had his small, crooked smile back on his face. He was okay, maybe he was feeling better?

Saying good morning/night to the lady, you both stepped back into the midnight air, starting to walk, but not back toward the hotel. You'd think with what cases you two had worked on you'd be a little warier, but with each other, you both felt safe. You walked a few steps, eating your yogurt, before Spencer spoke up again. "Is it a bad thing I'm so clueless as to what women like? Everything I know about women is scientific. Chocolate releases endorphins, flowers are associated with beauty and love, but... other than that... I don't know anything."

You swallowed your bite as Reid took his, waiting on your answer. Just as you always listened to him, he always listened to you. He probably valued your opinion over Derek's at times. You waved your spoon in the air when you spoke, "I wouldn't say bad. Everyone starts somewhere for everything. If anything, a man who is willing to learn is more attractive than one who wings it and doesn't ask comprehensive questions to up the relationship quality."

"Asking questions, got it. Should my confession include a gesture, though?" He spoke with his mouth full. Spencer really wanted to get this right- it was admirable. But there came that uneasy feeling again. It was more like an ache this time. Perhaps it was the awkward hours of sleep throwing you off?

You sucked it up, shoved the feeling down. "Really, Spence, it depends on the woman. Do I know her? Maybe I can help- that is unless you want to profile her to get her interests? I can help with that too-"

"No, I-I don't want to profile her, I want to stay away from that, we do that on a near-daily basis."

"We?" You questioned. Reid froze, but kept walking, looking a little petrified. He put more frozen yogurt in his mouth, maybe to shut himself up. You grinned, "We as in you and her are both profilers or we as in you and I profile others together, so you don't want to profile her with me?"

"I don't want us... to profile her," he cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

You sighed with a breathy laugh, "Good, because I was starting to think you were after Emily."

He chuckled, "Oh, no, not Emily. She's too scary for me anyway. Uh..." He swallowed hard, the way he always did was he was anxious or nervous. I saw in his face he'd come to some sort of conclusion. "Don't... don't yell at me for this, alright?"

"Yell at you? Spence, I wouldn't..." You were confused. He set his frozen yogurt down on the bench he had stopped in front of and stood back in front of you, pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked at you with his doe eyes and the wind blew his curls back in front of his face, he looked to the ground. His forehead still creased between his brows, but his eyes were soft and sweet, his nose was slightly scrunched and his mouth was twisted to the side as if he was once again mentally calculating something. You granted him back the silence from earlier, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. That was... until his eyes met yours and he looked so desperately lost and longing and like he ached inside... and you no longer wondered.

You let out another long sigh. She was you.

This girl that he was trying to understand how to win over, she was you. He asked you because he needed to know what you wanted. He was nervous because he was practically confessing to you and you, a profiler, were too blind to see that.

He watched your face for your reaction, waiting for something good, but you were too shocked to react right. He unfroze, hands flying to the roots of his hair and he spun away from you. He started rambling, obviously thinking everything had gone wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That- that wasn't how I had things planned and I was so certain that maybe you-hm- liked me too."

His words made it true. This was, in fact, happening at 12:56am in the middle of a foreign city. Your words spilled out, stern, focused, serious. "Kiss me then."

He spun around again, "What?"

"Confess, then kiss, remember?" You recounted carefully, looking directly at him, stepping closer.

"But I didn't get to do my whole monologue thing-" He was grinning pretty hard now, all signs of stress removed from his face. He looked brighter than the neon froyo sign, in happiness and disbelief right down at you. You were pretty sure you looked similar as all the pieces fell in place in your mind. It all fit.

"I don't care." You beamed back. "Do it after."

So without wasting another second, he grabbed your face and kissed you. He kissed you with a year and four months' worth of frustration, lust, confusion and past jealousies. His hands holding your jaw, his fingertips in your hair and your hands on his chest, holding fast to jacket. The kiss was a little messy the first two seconds, but every second after it was enjoyable and sweet and oddly powerful. He also tasted rich, like chocolate mocha, but you knew where that came from.

He pulled away first, which surprised you, but he didn't move very far, in fact, he mumbled against your lips as he tucked your hair out of your face. "I think I've liked you since you and I first met. You didn't hate my science jokes and instead of being annoyed with my informational rants, you listened to me. I wasn't expecting you to be so involved with me since you're, well... you're you and you're loud and fun and sweet and beautiful, but we worked so well together how could I ignore what I felt?"

His hand was a little shaky still, but his fingertips on your cheek were gentle. He continued to quietly ramble, "I decided maybe I'd do something with myself that wasn't devoted to the BAU so I thought maybe I'd- I'd tell you this. That I think you're beautiful and smart and talented and maybe you'd understand and feel the same way and now that I know maybe you do, I feel oddly put back to how I'm supposed to be. And... I think I'm supposed to be with you. If this is too soon or... ruins our friendship, I'm sorry and I'll slow it down, but I won't stop liking you."

You couldn't believe that in a three-minute span you had gone from painfully oblivious to so extremely wide awake. But it was in the best way possible after a year and four months of you also being painfully crushed by your secret feelings for Dr.Reid.

"It's fine, Spence," you said quietly, smiling at him with the most happiness you had found in months. "More than fine, I can't believe this is real."

He tucked the other side of your hair behind your ear, "You might have DRC, then. It stands for dream-reality confusion and is a difficulty or inability to determine whether an event or experience occurred during the waking state or whether it was part of a dream. I can assure you that you aren't dreami-"

You reached up and pulled him onto your lips by the back of the neck, smiling into it. This would be the first time you've ever shut him up. He welcomed it by kissing you back again, softer this time. Now that he was sure you wouldn't hate him for it, it felt a lot more natural, a lot more at ease. His passion was still there, as was yours, but this was how things were supposed to be. There was no longer a rush.

The two of you started laughing after it all. Both of you laughed at how painfully oblivious you both were and he went on a small explanation as to why we don't see our own tells and how feelings of romantic relation cloud the judgement. You went over every time the rest of the team had made a comment you both secretly loved or some you dismissed because it was an ache to hear.

Spencer opened up about his fear of rejection and you did the same and that too resulted in more laughing because here you were, so afraid, but you had both been in it for so long. You deserved to have each other after all this time not only because you fit, but because everyone saw it too, far before either of you did.

An innocent, fun, midnight escapade to cheer Spencer up turned into him finding a truly happy state of mind. You took that as a win and success as you tossed frozen yogurt containers in the garbage and found your way back to your room where you told Spencer it was okay to sleep in the bed as long as he was nice.

So he let you turn out the lights and lay next to him, your head on his chest in the way you had done before when it was only an achingly platonic move. He played with your hair, stared at the green walls, ranted about the history of the colour green and soon after, the both of you went right back to sleep, entirely happy.

Tagged: @ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #emily prentiss #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer x y/n #cm #aaron hotchner #mutual pining #romance #spencer reid fandom

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write-orflight · 4 years ago

Text

Light the Lamp: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Friends to Lovers, College/Hockey AU

Rating: M

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: College kids being college kids, drinking, swearing, talk of sex(No smut yet but will be)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Love and Hockey were kind of the same, everyone’s just rushing to score. So why couldn’t you?

A.N Summary bad but I literally couldn’t focus on writing anything else until I finished at least the first chapter of this. let me know what you think, Message/reply/inbox to be tagged.

Chapter 1: 1st Quarter

Hockey wasn’t the sport Bucky wanted to play originally. He wanted to play baseball like his old man but when Steve decided he wanted to take ice skating lessons, he made Bucky tag along so he wouldn’t be the only boy in the class. Soon, they found themselves recruited in the junior rec hockey team and had been playing together ever since. It wasn’t a surprise that when recruitment came around that school’s were trying to pick up both of them. People knew better than to separate Cap from the Winter Soldier. Steve’s nickname was easy to figure out. He had a natural authoritative nature that made him the Captain of almost every team he played on. You never knew why they called Bucky the Winter Soldier until you played against him. Bucky was like an assassin on the ice. While everyone was focused on Steve in Center, Bucky was on left wing scoring the goal before you knew what hit you. So both of them getting recruited to play for the Avengers at Wilmington University wasn’t surprising.

Meeting you was.

At first, it was a sort of form of hazing. When they were starting their Freshman year so was the Coach’s daughter. He had asked senior members of the team to ‘keep an eye on her’ and make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble. The seniors’ thinking that was lame, were more than happy to pass the task off to the two eager freshmen trying to make a name for themselves. So that’s how it started, The two boys walking you to classes and home from the library late at night, much to your demise.

“I should’ve known my dad was going to do something like this.” You complained when you saw the two boys waiting outside your dorm the first week of classes. “Thanks for coming. But you can tell my dad that I’m not going to be the freak being escorted by hockey jocks everyday.”

“No can do, Doll.” Bucky says. “We leave you, we’re doing drills the rest of practice.”

“Doll? What’re you? A 40s newscaster?” You say, with an annoyed expression walking passed the boys who just followed suit behind you. “Ugh, this is such bullshit. He literally begged me to go to Wilmington and promised I’d be able to have a ‘normal college experience’. What about this is fucking normal?”

“I know it’s less than ideal but hey, we can make the best out of this.” Steve smiles. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He says extending a hand.

You shake it. You couldn’t blame them for your dad not trusting you. “Y/N. You?” You asked the other boy next to you.

“Bucky.” He provides.

“Bucky?” You question.

“Well, it’s James but my friends call me Bucky.”

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You ask.

“Might as well be, since we’ll be seeing each other a lot this semester.”

And that’s how your semi-unconventional friendship started. Pretty soon, even though your dad had eased up on the 24-hour watch, per your mom's request, you still found yourself walking and getting coffee with the two in the mornings. Even, found yourself waiting in the rinks watching practices so you could hang out afterwards and that became your life for the next two years. Now the three of you we’re entering your Junior year of college. Steve was right back in his title role of Captain, Bucky was now first string Left Wing and you were… still watching from the bleachers. You didn’t mind though, you grew to love the sport due to it being your dad’s profession. Hell, you were on skates before you could even walk. But you never found yourself on the women’s team, Hockey wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You still supported the girls team though, which is why you found yourself watching their practices too.

“Hey, Y/N!” Carol said, skating to the end of the rink where you were sitting next to her girlfriend, Maria. A position you often found yourself in, entertaining player’s girlfriends while they practiced. Maria was cool though, at least you knew about the sport.

“Hey, Marvel.” You called her by her nickname. Thing about Hockey is everyone was called by their nicknames.

“You going to the Sigma Pi party later?” She asks.

“Uh, no one told me about it.” You say, awkwardly.

“I’m telling you now.” Carol says like it's obvious. “You never go out anymore and I refuse to let you become a cat lady before you turn 25. Come over ours at 7, we’ll pregame and head over at 9. What do you say?”

“Fine, I’ll come.” You say.

“Great!” Carol says, pumping a fist before signalling her girlfriend to come closer to the rink. You look away as they kiss. Couples made you uneasy, especially hockey couples. You wanted that more than anything, for your guy to skate up to the gate just to sneak a kiss from you. Not that dating anyone from the team was even an option with you dad coaching. The team saw you as a little sister and if anyone was caught even looking at you in any way, their ass was grass by either your dad or Bucky, who’d become protective of you over the years.

“Marvel, stop flirting with your girlfriend and GET BACK ON THE ICE!” You heard your dad scream.

“Sorry, Couch!” She called. “Sorry, baby i’ve gotta jet. Y/N, don’t forget. 7 o’clock!” She says before skating off.

“I won’t!” You call after her.

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

You can’t help but look at yourself in the mirror awkwardly at the tight Satin dress your roommate, Wanda practically forced you in. You were just going to wear a sweater and jeans, your regular wardrobe but Wanda insisted everyone had seen you in that and what they haven’t seen is you in a dress. Especially, with your new body, you had gotten over the summer working at a sports camp. Who knew running after kids would be such a great form of exercise?

Wanda also did your makeup, something you didn’t typically wear, giving you a natural glow eye, a layer of mascara, and sticky gloss that made your look ‘dewy’ as Wanda described it. You tried to keep your hair in the bun but Wanda insisted you keep your hair down. Saying it made you look hotter, you shrugged knowing you’d have to take her word for it.

The two of you made your way to Carol and Maria’s apartment. Carol swung the door open and looked at you in surprise. “Woah, Ice Baby, you clean up nice.”

“Don’t start, Marvel. And you know how I feel about being called that.” You hated the nickname but since you were the coach’s daughter and you stuck around the rink any chance you got, The seniors had started calling you Ice Baby your freshman year and the nickname unfortunately stuck long after they had gone.

“Right, sorry, I always forget.” Carol said moving out the way for the two of you to come in.

The four of you drink and play games until it’s time to head to the party. You’ve got a pretty strong buzz going as you enter the party and you regret the strappy heels Maria made you borrow before leaving. You’re sitting in the corner when someone comes to sit way too close to you. You look up to see Brock Rumlow, or Rum as the team liked to call him.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ice Baby. You look good.”

“My name is Y/N but thank you.” You say, annoyed.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender “I forgot you hate that nickname. Let me bring you a drink to make up for it. What you want.”

“Rum and coke, please.”

“Oh, so you like Rum?” He says, obvious double entendre hanging off his tongue.

“The drink? Yes.”

“You’ll like the man soon enough.” He winks, smirking at the flush that spreads across your cheeks.

The two of you spend the night like that. He brings you drinks and shamelessly flirts with you as you get drunker and drunker. The two of you even dance for a bit in the sea of grinding bodies. Soon you’re telling him a story and a hand drifts to your leg. You turn and he’s much closer to your face than you thought he was.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks. You nod but before you can even stand, Bucky is there towering over Brock.

“You can leave, Brock. But I’m taking Y/N home.” He says.

Brock rolls his eyes. “Forgot you had a Winter Soldier guard dog. No worries, dude. I’m leaving anyway.” He says, before turning to you. “You’ve got my number, call me if you wanna hang this week.” He says, nodding to Bucky before walking away.

“Ugh, Bucky. What was that for?” You whine, drunkenly.

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” Bucky says. “Come on, stand up.”

You shakingly get up and Buck is there immediately under your arm, his arm around your waist helping you walk out.

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you step foot out the party and take the long trek home.

“I think I drank too much.” You point out.

“You think, kid?” Bucky says. “You’re lucky, I was here meeting Sharon otherwise you would’ve been shit out of luck.”

“Brock would’ve taken me home.”

“Brock’s a lowlife. Don’t worry about him, I’ve got you.”

You sigh. “Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her when I make sure you get home so if you could pick up the pace.”

“My feet hurt.” You complain.

“Yea, I bet. God, when did you start wearing heels, Doll?”

“I wanted to look good tonight.” You sigh.

“You always look good.”

“Fine, I wanted to look hot.” You provide. “For once, I wanted to be the one guys paid attention to at parties.”

“You can be yourself for that, Y/N.” Bucky says. “You’re a catch.”

“If I was, someone would’ve fucked me by now.” You drunkenly admit. That makes Bucky double-take. “I mean, think about it? 3 years into my college career, I turn 21 in a couple months and still it's where no man’s gone before down there.”

“Y/N, are you saying you’re--”

“A virgin? Yea, Bucky catch up.” You groan at the pain in your feet. Bucky looks and takes sympathy on you.

“Here take off your shoes.” He says, toeing his off as well and sliding them over to you.

“You’re just going to walk barefoot?” You ask, putting on the shoes, holding your heels in your hand.

“Better than you walking barefoot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway, I decided over the summer that maybe I was putting too much thought into it. I mean almost everyone loses their virginity in high school and it's never good, no one ever says their first time was good. I just thought maybe I should just, you know, get it over with.” You slur. “Which is what I was trying to do until you chased my date away. God, you always do that, Bucky.”

“I’m not fighting with you while you’re drunk.” Bucky says, trying to get you to drop the subject but you persist.

“Every time I try to talk to a guy, you butt in--”

“Maybe I wouldn’t butt in if you picked the right guys for you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the guys I pick! You’re just a cockblock.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yea what about Charles? He asked me on a date freshman year and took it back not even an hour later. I had to beg Steve to tell me why and it turned out that you threatened him if he even thought about going out with me.”

“Y/N, you had just turned 18 and X was a 24 year old senior! I didn’t trust how he was just waiting. So yea, I told him to fuck off. And Rum is an asshole who can’t get a girl to sleep with him unless they’re shitfaced. So yea, I told him to fuck off.” Bucky exclaims as the two of you make it up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/N, you’ll find someone right for you and that right person will make your first time special. I just want you to find someone who’ll make you happy.”

“And I just want you to remember for next time that if you want to tell a girl who she can and can’t fuck, you have Sharon for that. Not me.” You said, taking off the shoes as you arrived at your front door.

“Y/N, wait--” You hear him say but you don’t care, you slam the door in his face regardless.

Who did Bucky think he was? Sure, he was your best friend but so was Steve and he’s not nearly as protective as Bucky was. You honestly couldn’t tell who was worse at this point, your dad or Bucky. You loved both of them but they had the fatal flaw of forgetting you weren’t a kid. You were a woman, a woman with needs. And one particular need you needed to get rid of.

So you picked up your phone and called Brock. Bucky couldn’t be right about everything.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @riverofcrestmont @babymango-writes @astralsaf @gabi-socio @hereforalongtime512

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #captain america #tfatws

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inkmemes · 4 years ago

Text

this country ( 2017 - 2020 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the bbc mockumentary. trigger warning for mentions of religion, death, sex. alter as you see fit ♡

“i like the underdog.”

“don't be a fucking dick.”

“everyone comes together on days like today and just forgets their utter hatred of each other.”

“everyone who's anyone's going to be there and there are people from my past that would love to see me slain.”

“there's a tea rooms there and under the counter they've got a panic button and if i take one step inside, they can press that. the police will be there in three minutes.”

"he whatsapped me the other day asking us to go laser quest with him and i ... well, i clicked on it by accident, didn't i? so he knows i've seen it."

"i mean, i get it, but it's not making me feel nothing."

“it's baffling. i'm baffled by the entire situation, if i'm honest.”

“what the actual fuck? what the actual fuck? you have fucking lost your head, mate. you have lost your fucking head.”

“when i get hold of you, i swear to god i will fucking deck you.”

"someone's just been throwing plums at my house. i'm going to kill them. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. all over this. plumming on here, plumming on that. plum on the sofa, look! there's nothing left that hasn't been plummed."

“i've had a target on my back since the day i was born.”

“thank you very much, enjoy your free potatoes.”

“do you know how small your brain is?”

“hogwarts is that way, dumbledore.”

“he used to say i looked like the puppet off the dolmio advert.”

“there's a kid crying over there. do you want me to...? i can tell him to shut the fuck up if you want?”

“he genuinely looked like a moomin.”

“on my first day of karate club, karate master goes to me, [name], i don't know why you're here because i can't teach you anything. if anything, you should be teaching me." and just gave me his black belt.”

“you know that little old blind man? yeah, when i was punching him in his face, the lens from his glasses broke and cut my knuckle.”

“some things are just best left in the past, where they belong.”

“what's the point in knocking if you're just going to walk in anyway?”

“it was a miscarriage of justice though, cos what people forget is 12 out of them 20 hostages actually found it funny.”

“i lied so much i still don't know what's real life and what's plain lies.”

“i'm so glad you're out of that lying phase.”

“he likes to be the only person on the road, so whenever he sees a car coming the other way he just pulls over.”

“nasa went through hundreds of them in the '60s. and now every time i see a really bright star in the sky i can't wish on it, cos in my head i'm thinking, ‘that's probably just a spacecraft with some monkey bones in it.’”

“you absolute traitor. that's my cheese - it's my fucking house!”

“don't you dare eat that cheese. you eat that and i will smash this. i promise you, i will smash you with this.”

“fuck! you switched them!”

“yeah, i can see it's fucking burnt, sherlock.”

“i honestly am ashamed to know him, sometimes.”

“if you knock on someone's door, don't take no for an answer. get into their house. if they say, ‘leave my house’, stay. and if they say, ‘i'm going to call the police’, you walk upstairs and see if there's anybody else upstairs to sell to.”

“she looks like uncle fester.”

“right. i'm going to piss in their flowers, then.”

“you really need to go home. your mum's called the police and everything.”

“you're also fired from being my best mate, by the way.”

“in business, there will always be setbacks. i don't drink my own juice, fray bentos doesn't eat his own pies. but that's business.”

“do you know what, i don't actually want to play this any more, because it is actually very, very boring.”

“i'm ashamed of myself, that's not usually me, so don't get the wrong impression.”

“i genuinely think one of them fancies me as well.”

“it's fate her moving across the street.”

“the problem with finding a girlfriend in the village is that most of the girls you meet round here are old-age pensioners.”

“yeah, i am looking for a relationship, but thing is i've just got so many trust issues, yeah, with being fucked over massive in the past, so no matter how much i get close to someone now i'm thinking in the back of my head, ‘shit, am i going to get fucked over?’ because i've been fucked over in the past massively. my last relationship proper fucked me up.”

“i went through a really dark phase. listening to papa roach and just blowing everything up with them little french bangers.”

“shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!”

“i don't like the man. i know he's my uncle, but i don't like him.”

“it's just malicious lies, that's all it is.”

“i'm not saying i've got a cruel heart, but if she ain't willing to take me as i am rather than the monster i've become, then she can literally just jog on back to sea with all the other fish cos i don't care.”

“what do you look for in a boyfriend?”

“the key to dating, yeah, is the two rs and the three ts. 'respect, rapport, and talking, talking, talking.' don't ever let that ball hit the ground. good relationships are built on great conversation.”

“on a date, you've got to tell them all the interesting stuff about you, because that's what they'll be interested in.”

“he said to me, he goes, ‘you can't smoke on here.’ i said, ‘i'm not smoking, i'm vaping.’ the look on his face when i said that. i don't think he knew what vaping… what a vape is.”

“you would make me the happiest mouse if you say yes and become my spouse.”

“here's a tip, [name], next time you take a chick out on a date, don't bore her to tears.”

“roses are red, violets are blue, i've got five fingers, the third one's for you.”

“get out of my way, pipe cleaner.”

“[name] phoned me the other day at three in the morning saying, ‘come quick,

there's a hedgehog in the garden that looks exactly like grandad.’ so i got up, i got dressed and i ran over to [name]'s as fast as i could and then i just stopped in the middle of the street at three in the morning and thought, ‘what the fuck am i doing with my life?’

“you're joking me? because if you are joking me, that is massively harsh.”

“oh, let me get a song up on youtube. you're going to absolutely love this, [name]. here we go… listen to this. oh, for fuck's sake, advert.”

“let's go down the pub and get shitfaced.”

“where do i see myself in five years? well, me and [name] will have a flat in the middle of the village and all of our furniture will be inflatable and we'll have cable and it will pay for itself, because we're going to use the spare room to breed quails, because their eggs are worth fucking shitloads.”

“is this about the calippo, still? because you offered to buy me that.”

“if he wants to go, good luck to him, i say. i reckon he thinks that i can't live without him, which is a laugh, because he went a whole weekend away once and i got on all right. i just ended up following this cat around the village.”

“i've got to do what's right for me, at the end of the day, instead of worrying about other people.”

“how about you say sorry? sorry for the massive knife that's hanging out the back of my back because of you.”

“oh, and while you're stabbing me in the back, feel free to bend down and kiss my arse.”

“can i just ask you an honest question? why would you want to leave the village when we've got a pub and a shop?”

“i think you don't know how lucky we have it to be doing nothing with our lives, like. we're all going to die, anyway, so what's the point in doing anything?”

“i want ownership of the words fucknut and dickmilk.”

“i had this come through the post. and i've got a few concerns about it. firstly, this guy on the front looks really arrogant. not the sort of guy i was expecting, if i'm honest.”

“this is starting to stress me out a little bit.”

“why are you trying to stress me out? you know i'm already stressed out as it is.”

“the bloke that used to live in there, right, kept hearing strange noises coming out of his attic at night. and he'd go to the fridge and find that food was missing from the fridge. so he thought, ‘i'm just going to go up to the attic and check this out.’ and he found an entire family of peruvian panpipe buskers just living up there. and he thought ‘i'm just going to leave them to it, ‘cos they're not really doing me any harm.’ and then, a few years later, he thought, "well, i'll just go up to the attic to check on them. ‘see if they're all right.’ and it turned out they'd all died of asbestos poisoning. yeah, he doesn't live here any more.”

“some people will always be scared of me, and i can't change that, no matter how nice i am. but there's a balance to be had between being nice and being feared.”

“don't really like catching up. it's not my thing.”

“i just watched this video of this girl doing a random act of kindness on youtube. she basically paid for this old man's shopping at the till. and this old man was, like, about 90 years old. and he's so fucking old, like, you could see through his skin. and he just starts bawling his eyes out. he's like, ‘you're fucking joking me, this ain't fucking real life.’ i just thought... i want to make someone feel like that. ‘cos that's... i really… that's what i want to do.”

“i'm not dead. just can't be arsed to text her sometimes.”

“you know, correct me if i'm wrong, but four texts a day is complete madness. no-one can keep up with that.”

“i am doing kind things selfishly.”

“i was at midnight mass one year, right, someone got tipped off i was there. as i was coming out the church, someone tries to shoot me with a crossbow.”

“well, i haven't seen the film, have i? that's why i came here - to watch the fucking film - like a normal human being.”

“i've made an effort by coming here tonight. i didn't want to come.”

“i had to wheel him here from his house in an asda trolley, cos he was just too heartbroken to move.”

“sometimes you don't know what you got until you ain't got it any more. like blockbuster's. i just took 'em for granted - and then, one day, gone, and you spend ages trying to figure out what went wrong, and then you realise it was your fault all along.”

“i thought you said you wanted to fix things.”

“she wanted it to go that way, and it just wasn't gonna go that way. she even got me thinking that they'd get back together… ..but that's manipula.... manipulative people... do that. and he's better off without her.”

“that wasn't much to write home about.”

“it's fucking dead, isn't it?”

“basically, somebody's been sending me threatening letters, and i don't know who's doing it - and i am concerned, because my peripheral vision is poor, so, if somebody attacks me from the sides or snipes at me from an upstairs window, i am fucked - but my hearing is excellent, see? so i just need to spend a few days inside honing my sonar, and i'll be fine then.”

“if you don't like the work, the circus is in town and they're always looking for clowns.”

“his soul is just going to crumble to dust.”

“this really is not a good situation for me. a physical threat is something that i can deal with, but a sexual thing is not my area of expertise.”

“just really fucked in the head, mate.”

“what have i done? i haven't done anything wrong.”

“do you know how sad that is? that is so, actually, sad. that makes me sad for you, that you can't take a joke.”

“i think i just got a bit carried away with the whole thing.”

“your finger's going up my arsehole, mate.”

“i'll hold the back of your head, so you don't bash yourself.”

“when i lie in future, i don't want a massive lecture on how bad lying is, cos deep down, you're the worst of us all, mate.”

“i'd quite like a coke.”

“it's going to be like gluing a breadstick back together, because… like, as if a breadstick's been in a blender and it's all… ...the pieces smashed up.”

“like, this one time i started a fight club in the village hall, and i got a black eye from beating myself up. but it made my enemies think, ‘fuck, if she can do that to herself, what the fuck can she do to me?’”

“i'm absolutely 1,000% sure i've broken it in two places.”

“i knew this day would come.”

“i should be in tk maxx, getting the bargains that i deserve.”

“unlike you, [name], i'm not a fashion disaster.”

“i'm still warm in my grave, and she's sucking off the pallbearer.”

“you know, it took me ten years to get over [name], and i only went out with her for half a day.”

“i swear to god, if i see him here again, i swear to god, i will have no hesitation in just going up to him and just planting one on his face.”

“right, then keep your nose out of my business, yeah? nosy old cock-womble.”

“[name]’s attitude to me is puzzling. if i walk past her in the street

and say hi, she'll tell me to fuck off. yet every year, she sends me a really sweet, nice christmas card. you know, there's just no consistency there.”

“he's good-looking up close, isn't he?”

“don't show me any weakness, because i will take advantage.”

“no, put the brick down, you fucking psychopath.”

“when i asked him, he just said, ‘come to my office now,’ which means we're in the fucking shit, cos we're always in fucking shit.”

“i shouldn't be paying you at all.”

“i've always had a son. i talk about him all the time.”

“he's my son. he's not my dog.”

“it reminds me of the wicker man. i don't really know why.”

“i just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and they can be such a big part of your life, and then the next minute, you're just sort of strangers in the night.”

“i don't want the emotional implications.”

“well, about five years ago, i sold my birthday to my mum for about 200 quid, which means my mum's legally entitled now to never celebrate my birthday ever again for the rest of my life. not even, like, a happy birthday cup of tea, or a moonpig card, nothing - which is the worst decision i ever made in my entire life.”

“he deserves that anyway, because he's been sexting my nan, so…”

“what's this surprise? cos i need to know whether it's going to be worth this walk.”

“i always see them banners above the motorway, and i always thought, ‘who the fuck does them?’ well, now i know. people like me.”

“did you know you can't get stung by a stinging nettle if you grab the leaf top and bottom, like that? it's only when you touch it on the sides, it stings. agh, actually, that stung, then.”

“pez dispenser, they're cursed. they are, i'm not even joking. honestly, when i had one of them, i had the worst bout of bad luck i ever had in my life.”

“i swear down, it's a short cut. it might be a pleasant walk, we might enjoy it.”

“i'm not scared of the fox twins. i'd just like to sit them down and ask 'em plainly, ‘look, guys, what is going on? ‘cos this has just gotten completely out of hand now. you know, stop walking on your knuckles, stand up straight, be the best version of you that you can be. get a job, even. there's a trolley boy who works at tesco's, you know, who may as well have been raised by wolves. if he can get a job, you guys can walk it.’”

“yes, there has been talk of strange goings-on in the woods, ghost sightings and the like. but… ...they're never from particularly reliable sources.”

“i live with a ghost. there's a ghost in that house. he's like a civil war cavalier, with all the hair and the hat and all that. and every time i walk into the living room, he doffs his cap. and on his shoulder, he's got this crow that barks at me. it means i spend less time in the house, really. not because of him, because he's-he's quite peaceable. but the crow is malevolent. and i'm not having that. i can't share my house with a malevolent bird.”

“that's haunted as fuck.”

“am i going mad here, or does that, to you, look like that's where just ghost will hang out all the time?”

“look at him, little red riding twat.”

“if he's got an attitude with me, i swear to god, i'll just grab the steering wheel and drive us all into a wall.”

“it's a bit annoying, actually. cos this is not the first or the second time i've had to tell you, really, is it?”

“his sparkle has just gone.”

“you know my dad actually wrote the song wonderwall on the back of a beer mat in the space of ten minutes, don't you?”

“i've just got a tiny, tiny, tiny little favour to ask you.”

“when i think of [name], i think of someone who is very loyal. and very, very stupid. sort of more stupid than loyal. sort of 70% stupid, 30% loyal, probably. because she's very loyal. but extremely stupid.”

“do you know what? i actually don't think he loves you at all and i don't think he's ever loved you.”

“all right, that's harsh and unnecessary, but fine.”

“frankly, she is behaving like the antichrist.”

“i literally just got here.”

“you are such an unemotional slab of ham, [name].”

“i've got so much shit on that man you would not believe.”

“there's something in my eye.”

“i just can't quit him, you know?”

“yeah, we might have a fiery relationship, but when we're together, it's just… it's just pure chemistry, isn't it?”

“i'm not proud of it, believe me. but at the end of the day, i'm a very vindictive person, you know? it is what makes me me.”

“i basically went out and bought an alpaca off gumtree for £500. of all the mistakes i've made in my life, that was possibly the largest. definitely the physically largest.”

“yeah, i really don't wanna talk about that.”

“her only loyalty is to herself, staffies, and the tv channel dave… ...which, in my opinion, is a tv channel made by knuckle-draggers for knuckle-draggers.”

“i can't move on till i've seeked revenge, unfortunately.”

“if that was in france, that would be fine, but we're not in france.”

“the only thing we had in common, really, was stealing, and that was more my thing that i got him onto. but it just goes to show, you know, some friendships last and some friendships don't, but that's just the way it is.”

“you know it was me that got you sacked, don't you?”

“the thing i learnt about friendship is, you gotta accept each other's flaws, no matter how toxic they may be.”

“shit-stirring from beyond the grave.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #this is the nichest meme ive made #but this show is so fucking funny okay

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

A Triwizard Baby Part 4 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Part 4 of my ‘Triwizard Baby’ mini-series, please read Parts 1, 2, and 3 if you haven’t already. Want to be tagged? Let me know!

Warnings: Swearing, Mention vomiting, and food/eating.

"Girls" you sighed, watching them finally stop jumping on their beds and dropping their pillows "There's something I need to tell you."

You and Angelina shared a glance, she knew and so did you - you were finally ready, to tell the truth. Hiding this - hiding the truth about you and Fred had caused you enough pain, and the longer you decided to hide this, the worse the pain would get.

"What is it?" Katie asked, already concerned, no longer giggly or excitable.

Staring and picking at your fingernails, you finally looked each of your friends in the eyes, your heart thumping in your chest with each breath.

"I'm ready to tell you" you sighed again "who the father is."

They all stayed silent except Matt's little sister, "who is it?" she asked quietly.

"Fred," you blurted out, unable to hide his name for much longer "Fred Weasley is the father."

"I've told you" Fred hissed "don't bloody speak to me!" he stormed in front of George, stamping his feet, furious his backstabbing brother would dare to even speak to him.

Fred was exhausted from sleeping in the room of requirement alone and no one to talk to, he was pissed off with his brother, frustrated that you weren't his and that everyone around him avoided him as if he had a curse. For the first time in his life, he left as if he had run out of luck.

George grabbed him by the arm "Freddie, please-"

"No!" Fred shoved George's grip off him "You're jealous, you always have been."

George opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get a word in.

"You always have been, every girl I've been with, you've chased after when I'm done with them. You can't stand the fact I fucked her, and you've rubbed it in my face that you've knocked her up!" Fred's voice cracked "And I told you, I loved her!"

"Fred, I-"

"Do me a favour, Georgie, don't speak a word to me at the baby shower, unless you want a crib smashed against your stupid head!"

"Keep those eyes closed!" Angelina grinned, her hands covering your eyes as she walked you through the rented restaurant covered in banners, balloons, a buffet table and presents.

"I am!" you smirked, feeling slightly nervous, smelling the mouth-watering fruit juices and pies.

"Okay," Angelina smiled, removing her hands "open in three, two, one!"

Opening your eyes you looked across the huge room, your friends were all huddled together with party poppers, yelling "Surprise!" and pulling the string, confetti shooting across the room, Fred sat alone across the room, trying his hardest to show support and be happy for you, but his heartbreak was breaking through his persona better than he thought.

You were bombarded with presents for you and the baby: the new crib, clothes, socks, bottles, nappies, monitors, teddy bears, and blankets - you unwrapped everything which brought the biggest smile to your face and tears of happiness to your eyes.

Everyone made bets on whether you would have a girl or a boy, what time and day they would be born on, and how long the labour would be. Even you had to admit, you were having a good time and for the first time in a while, the smile on your face was genuine, not forced.

After hours of present opening, games, bets, and food, you and the girls cleaned up the confetti, empty plates and scrunched up wrapping paper. Fred slowly approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, turning around to look at him, your heart pained.

Tell him, everyone knows but him, just tell him!

"Freddie-"

"Y/N, can I have a moment?" he murmured.

The girls looked at the two of you standing in the middle of the room, they exchanged looks and nodded, leaving to give you both some privacy.

"I wanted to give this to you in private," Fred said softly, handing you a large faux dragon scale photo album "I ran out of time to wrap it, was up all night finishing it."

You stared down at the photo album and opened it, your heartbreaking with each turn of the page. Pictures of you and Fred throughout the years, followed by his little notes of when and where the picture was taken until you flicked to the empty pages, you stared up at him.

Tell him, now is a perfect time-

"Fred, please-"

"The blank pages are to fill with pictures of us and the baby," he said softly "that's if the father won't mind."

George entered the room again, not knowing his brother was still there.

"Y/N, I was thinking-" he stopped in his tracks, looking at his brother's face dropping.

"Congratulations, again." Fred walked away, pushing past his brother and out the door.

"They are Braxton Hicks, my dear." Madame Pomfrey waved her hand, helping you to your feet in the hospital wing.

Your hand rested on your bump "I'm sorry, what?"

After your little moment with Fred, your womb contracted and relaxed, disturbing your baby, causing it to lash out and kick against your tummy in discomfort from the contractions. You were frightened and sure you were going into labour and George rushed you to the hospital wing.

"Is she going to be okay?" George asked nervously.

"False labour pains" she replied "and if you go to the tournament tonight you'll be experiencing more of them!" she stressed.

"I can assure you I won't be doing backflips," you grumbled, "surely it will be safer for me if I sit down."

Madame Pomfrey held her nose up in the air, feeling slightly defeated "I can't stop you from going, but as long as you're sitting down and surrounded by a responsible group of friends, I don't see why you can't go."

"I'll take good care of her, I swear."

"Your brother couldn't!" Madame Pomfrey hissed "she's in this mess because of him, and I better not see you two back in here until that baby is ready!"

The loud band played along as everyone got seated high up in the stands, the girls on your left, and George on your right, you held onto his hand, still on edge from the sudden Braxton Hicks. You rested your head against his shoulder, Fred stared at the back of your head, his hands bunched into fists, regretting his decision to sit towards the back.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, Fleur had failed, Krum evidently had too - now - it was between Cedric and Harry, the champion being a Hogwarts student was certain, but still, undecided whether that champion would belong to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, like many others in the stands, your fingers and toes were crossed for Harry taking the win.

Out of nowhere, Cedric came stumbling out of the maze, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, his shirt sticking to him and his hair ruffled, scratches across his delicate face. He crouched down, clearly out of breath, but so startled and shaken up that he was shaking and green in the face.

The crowd jumped to their feet, cheering for Harry and Gryffindor, holding their red banners and waving their flags in the air whilst Syltherin scowled and hid their faces in their hands.

"We need to go and see if he's alright!" Angelina panicked hearing Cho shriek, the girls got on their feet and hurried down the stairs, running out to Cedric who was now on his hands and knees on the grass, throwing up.

"Well, are you coming!?" Angelina asked George, holding out her hand.

George looked at you, he didn't want to leave you on your own and you knew it.

"Go," you reassured him "I'll be okay."

You watched Cedric gain the courage to speak, you tried to lip read but he was too far away for you to even make out a single word, but whatever he had said panicked the cheering girls and proud lads because now they were muttering, whispering and all appeared to be frightened and anxious, no longer in the mood to celebrate Harry's win.

Katie who didn't leave you behind shot a scowl at Fred who continued to stare at you, she moved closer to you whilst Angelina and George hurried back, horror across their faces.

"What's happened?" you panicked.

"It's Harry" George frowned "The cup, it was a portkey and he's gone, Cedric said-"

Angelina nudged George with her elbow, glaring at him and shaking her head "not now, George."

"No, what is it?" you demanded.

Just as George announced the news that the dark lord had returned, you felt major discomfort and a dull ache in your back and lower abdomen, along with the pressure that increased in your pelvic, you gripped onto your bump and winced.

"George!" you panicked "It's happening!"

The father of your baby watched as you went into labour, Katie and Angelina helped you to your feet as George hurried over to Madame Pomfrey, everyone around you started to panic and gave you all the room you needed to evacuate safely back into the hospital wing - the one place you didn't want to end up twice in one day.

Leaving you behind, George stared up at Fred who was sat as still as a statute, if you weren't going to tell him, George had to, he wouldn't allow his brother to miss the birth of his child.

George stumbled over to his brother and shook him angrily "I don't want to bloody argue but listen to me!"

"George, I told you-"

"You're the dad, alright!" George yelled, "She's having your baby, you need to get to the hospital wing now!"

"What are you on about?" Fred argued, not believing the word "are you seriously-"

"Think back to the party when you played truth or dare! Think for Merlin's sake!"

Fred shut his mouth and suddenly, his world began to spin so fast his heart could've stopped.

“I want you.” you breathed, pulling away from the kiss “I want you to fuck me like you do everyone else.”

“I want you too” Fred replied, taking your hand and fleeing from the party.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Fred asked, pulling away from your breasts.

“Yes,” you breathed out, slurring slightly “I’m ready Freddie.”

The memories suddenly flashed before his eyes, the sight of your naked body beneath his, the two of you climaxing, Fred pulling out and falling into your arms, only to wake up the next morning in an empty bed that smelled of your hair and perfume. It reminded Fred that he had forgotten to put a condom on, George wasn't lying, he is the father of your child.

Fred's eye widened and he bolted from his brother, shoving everyone aside and sprinting for his life to the hospital wing, no one and nothing could stop him now.

The doors of the hospital wing swung open, laying in your bed, tears rolled down your face as the contractions worsened, Madame Pomfrey urging you to keep pushing. Fred pulls out a chair and sits beside you, holding your hand, comforting you, kissing your forehead and encouraging you.

You opened your mouth to speak: you wanted to say sorry, to tell him you loved him, you wanted to explain everything all at once, but you were unable to - the pain increasing, causing you to scream out, tears rolling down your face.

"Almost there Y/N, you're crowning!" Madame Pomfrey announced.

Fred planted another kiss on your sweaty forehead "keep pushing sweetheart," he said softly "you're doing so bloody well!"

Within a few moments, the sound of your babies cries rang out through the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey placed the baby in your arms, encouraging you to sit back and relax - but you couldn't you still had the urge to push.

"I need to push again, "you cried, gritting your teeth "I'm not done!"

Madame Pomfrey's mouth dropped, causing her to take the baby from your arms and handing the newborn to Fred.

"What's going on?" Fred panicked, gripping onto his child, already feeling the protectiveness kick in.

"There's another baby..."

"She's having twins?!"

Fred held the elder newborn in his arms whilst the younger and smaller newborn rested in yours, both of them just like their father; a full head of ginger hair.

"They're yours." you croaked, your. throat sore from all the screaming and crying.

Fred smiled, tears forming in his eyes as he rocked the baby in his arms "I know, they look just like me... their hairs..."

"I'm so sorry, Freddie, I didn't tell you because... because I didn't know what to do, you're my best friend and I've had feelings for you since the beginning and I felt as if you didn't feel the same, I thought that me forcing a child upon you would... would ruin what we had."

"Of course I feel the same," Fred replied "I just didn't know if you did."

The two of you went silent for a moment, the twins sleeping - they were exhausted from being brought into the world earlier than expected.

"Do you still feel the same?" you asked Fred, staring into his pride-filled brown eyes.

He nodded "Yeah, do you?"

Everything you had ever wanted finally arrived, the children you were carrying - so eager and excited to meet, and the man of your dreams, finally on the same page as you - who had been in love with you for all this time.

You looked down at the baby in your arms and then back up at Fred, "I do too."

"Shall we have a fresh start?" Fred smiled "As parents and that."

You broke out into a light laugh and smiled "I'd like that, Freddie. I'd like that a lot."

There was another silence, it felt as if the world was sleeping.

"So, when can we make another one?" Fred winked.

"When we graduate from Hogwarts!-"

"Next year?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't let me finish! We need to graduate, get stable jobs and have a house with enough room!"

"So next year then?" Fred smirked, still cradling the baby.

Your furrowed your brows, unsure whether or not he was bluffing.

"Okay then, since you're all confident, let's make a bet." You smirked back.

"If I win, we make another baby, if you win... we get married," Fred said softly as the baby opened his eyes and let out a cry.

"Alright," you agreed, taking your baby from Fred, trying to breastfeed "but what is your obsession with making another one?" you asked, "we've just had twins!"

Mr and Mrs Weasley were slowly approaching the hospital wing, George following not far behind.

"Yeah, which I've only just found out are mine!"

The hospital wing doors opened, Molly and Arthur standing in the doorway, staring at you, their son, and their grandchildren.

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