#I just wanted to draw them in formal wear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cthulhus-curse · 1 month ago

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Neighborly Support

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 5,241

Warnings: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blood, Darkfic, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Mommy Kink, Murder, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Smut, Somnophilia, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Wanda goes ballistic with an ax that’s all you really need to know, this is a formal apology to Nat and Maria my babies ily btw, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You hadn’t looked back ever since you moved away from Westview, but an offer for dinner with the neighbors draws you back in just for you to fall once again for one Wanda Maximoff. Only this time you get more than you bargained for.

Family dinners were never something you looked forward to. Living in the city gave you the freedom to decline them, to come up with whatever excuse you could muster in a matter of seconds and get out of them. Although your parent’s house was less than an hour away, you had been able to avoid any reunions in months. You loved them, you really did, but the grievances they threw at you for living so far away, for not surrounding yourself with those who loved you and instead drowning yourself in work after having graduated college were far too much for you to deal with.

Well, that was until you didn’t allow yourself to escape the tight grasp a family dinner had on you. Especially not once your mother called you to let you know a neighbor would be joining you – Wanda Maximoff.

During your college years you had gotten to merely see her from far away. She had recently moved in once you were a freshman. Although you lived away from your family in that period of your life, you were thrilled to return home for breaks and within whatever free time you could find. Seeing Wanda waltzing around the neighborhood and small town of Westview was only a bonus.

She had two kids and although the entirety of the population seemed to despise her, she was still a high-standing citizen – president of the PTA, a devoted housewife, and the true image of perfection in the familial sense. Her family was her life, twins being the light in Wanda’s dark days while her husband, Vision, was kind without a fault.

As soon as your mother let it slip through the phone that Wanda and her family would be joining your family dinner, you accepted.

Returning home was always a bittersweet moment. You dreaded the way in which your parents would bombard you with pleas to move back for the sole purpose of helping your father’s plumbing business. It’s what your brother had done, but then again, Tony had always been the favorite. They weren’t too fond of you running around an alien city by yourself. Control had always been something you sought, especially from your family, and yet that all changed as you sat across the table from your neighbor.

It didn’t surprise you to see the red hair still sitting only centimeters from her shoulders. Wanda had never dared change her appearance. She always kept her mane short enough to give off the appearance of a truly devoted mother, her outfits mirroring that very same image. At times you had seen her wear small buns in the past, her hair entirely up as she tended to her flowers in the front yard as you watched from the second-floor window in your room. As wrong as you knew it to be, you always had difficulty tearing your eyes away from the older woman.

Sitting back and relaxing, you listened on to the neighbor.

“I’ve never met a pair of more imcompetent individuals in my life. Can you believe they didn’t want to give me what I purchased? I spent almost an hour trying to explain myself so it would get through the manager’s thick skull,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head as she took another bite of the pasta your parents had crafted. “It was all in the receipt too. I never got what I ordered. My poor boys had to share their food because I refused to give that wretched place a single extra cent. Idiots.”

One of the reasons why she was so infamous along the town was her propensity to forever be right. Wanda was nothing if not a confident woman who lacked self-awareness or even a smidge of care for those around her except her children – at times her husband. She could never find it in her to be wrong. The controlling nature which she exuded across the table, her twin boys sitting by one of her sides as Vision took the other, was one that spoke to you. Perhaps you’d give her off all the control if only she asked.

Dinner went on without any major issues. Given the presence of what your brother deemed as strangers, your parents never spoke about your life in the city. Instead they chatted highly of you and Tony to the Maximoffs, prompting Wanda to spare you glances here and there that she never gave your brother. For a moment your eyes even came in contact with her own. You swore that green forest that lay beneath them could swallow you whole unprompted. And you’d, of course, let it.

Towards the end of it your face was hot and red. You had to excuse yourself before the neighbors left, mumbling something about how your head was throbbing with pain given the long drive – a lie – and that you would be slithering into your old bedroom and sleeping until the morning – another lie.

As though you had counted your stars, after having washed your dirty dishes, Wanda rose to her feet and left for the bathroom. Walking in the same direction, the halls empty all across from you as the woman skidded behind you, making you attempt to swallow the knot in your throat and ignore her. Both were failed exercises when strong arms grabbed you roughly and pushed you against the nearest wall. Given how far away you were from the dining room, you were lucky no one else heard your whimper as twinkling viridescent orbs shot through your soul.

“I don’t think you have a clue of how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Wanda husked out, her voice low and dangerous in a manner you had yet to witness before. Her head was tilted as she dug her nails deep into your shoulders. “I have done all the things a wife is supposed to do. House. Kids. The meals.” Each little word she mumbled, leg drifting up to press her knee where you were already dripping, made you shudder. “I’m very attracted to you. Would you be interested in having an affair?”

As difficult as it was to breathe in that moment, there came no hesitation when you nodded and mustered out a small ‘yes’.

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Wanda was unfiltered, you quickly learned. Whatever she said, she meant. Perhaps it should’ve driven you away when she first casually suggested the taboo arrangement, and yet you found yourself doing as she said. She carried all of the control you had slowly collected when moving away simply to hold it all over your head and make you hers with it.

Sneaking around was always a rather difficult issue to resolve. At first all you had were little moments where Wanda pressed her body against yours while your back touched the back of her front door. Her lips were the ones to take all the power, dancing over your own and being led around without putting up a fight. She was devouring you with all she had. Taking claim of what she deemed as rightfully hers ever since she saw you for the first time years before.

What wasn’t difficult was when she made excuses to visit you in the city. Vision would never dare question his wife. At times you felt bad for him, bad for the fact that you took advantage of the kindness he always offered to secretly rub it in his face and be with his wife. It’s not like Wanda cared though. So long as she brushed it off, you didn’t deem it as a problem.

The first time the two of you got longer than twenty minutes together in secrecy was when your parents took a day trip to the beach along with your younger brother. You were left alone prancing across the house, phone in hand as you quickly shot off a text to Wanda. The excitement you felt was indescribable. Never had you gotten such a thrill with any of your past partners. Wanda was truly one of a kind.

When she arrived all serene and calm, her head held up high, the redhead didn’t waste time shooting off orders. “Bedroom, now. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly, and lay on the bed. Don’t you dare do anything else unless I give you permission. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the automatic response.

You were the well-behaved pet that Wanda had never gotten to play with. She could use you however she wanted. Her deeply sick and twisted mind ran rampant given all the ideas she carried along. Perhaps she could give you a cute collar to tug at with a leash, or maybe a muzzle to keep your needy whimpers at bay as she used and abused all of your holes. She could use several toys to correct any behavior needed. The possibilities were endless.

Wanda was pleased to see you had followed her instructions. She took her sweet time making her way up the stairs in her tight yellow shirt and blue jeans. Her eyebrows were raised, mouth a thin line with raised ends, when she first got a sight of your nude body. Perfection couldn’t even begin to describe you. You were so much more than that, a wondrous angel who fell from heaven just to bring her the utmost joy in life, the thrills she had never gotten beside her husband.

“Hmmm good,” Wanda mumbled as she aimlessly stared at the nudity exposed. She could feel a tingling sensation between her legs, a shiver running down her back that she had yet to experience. “Such an obedient little doll. I like it.”

She wasted no time undressing herself, putting her folded clothes beside yours over the dresser. The way in which you carelessly followed her orders, not daring to think about anything beside them made her proud as ever. As she crawled over the bed with an animalistic sense overtaking her being, Wanda was ready to devour her prey.

Kisses across your skin made you see the stars. She spent ages merely running her fingernails over your body which she cut short awaiting the blissful moment. Markings were left in her wake. Wanda’s possession over you had begun. She wanted, no, needed to make you hers entirely. To free your mind and soul from the confines of your own control and have them be hers forever.

“Needy whore,” Wanda muttered as she cupped your cunt with a hand as the other supported her over you. Her breath was hot against your neck, tongue trailing across your skin before she peppered kisses all over your jaw and made her way to your mouth. “You’re fucking dripping for me. I bet you’re so tight, huh? You haven’t been properly fucked by anyone and need mommy’s help?”

That was new to say the least, but in your deeply hazy state of mind, your eyesight blurry with need, you couldn’t care less.

“Please, Wanda. I need you so fucking bad,” you replied breathlessly. Your hips had a mind of their own as they began moving back and forth only to get your cunt to rub against the palm of her hand. “Touch me. I promise I’ll be so good for you, I’ll obey. Just please…mommy…”

“As I said: needy fucking whore.”

Wanda slapped her hand over your pussy harshly. She was sober up until you moaned loudly, your desperate noises giving her the push she so deeply needed. It was enough to get the older woman all drunk with you. Her hand smacked you over and over, not caring to stop even as you drew wetter than before, your slick juices running down your inner thighs and dripping onto the bed sheets you’d surely have to clean up.

Fingers rubbed up and down your slit. They were lazy at first, moving without a true purpose as they teased your entrance and swirled over your swollen clint. You were throbbing by then, sobbing harshly with a tear-stricken red face while Wanda kept worshiping your frame and putting her focus between your legs. With the way her erect nipples slid up and down your body, at times grazing against your own, you weren’t sure you’d make it for long enough.

When she finally eased herself in, you had to hold onto the woman so as to not fall apart.

Those digits were long and slender, all coated with juices of yours as they inched inside your tight hole. Two at once were bearable. Wanda was sure to take her time allowing you to grow used to her, pumping her tips in you before moving them deeper. Velvety walls clung to her for dear life. You could only hear her low grunts from above you along with your own lewd sounds and the wet noises from your pussy.

“Do you like being fucked like this, sweetheart? Your pussy all used by mommy. It’s fucking pathetic how desperate you are,” Wanda said as she drove her fingers into your depths and curled them up. The way in which you cried out of pain and pleasure made her smirk. “This is all mine. This dirty and hungry cunt is mommy’s property and you better fucking remember. Nobody else will ever touch you like I do.”

“I understand. I- ah!” She thumbed at your clit and you nearly came then and there. “I’ll be the best girl for you, mommy. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You spent what felt like eons lying on your childhood bedroom bed with Wanda on top of you. She pumped her fingers harshly in and out of your pussy, groaning at the way you were stretched out relentlessly. Her admiration with her hand all covered in your wetness was immersive. Green eyes flickered all over your body, mostly focused on your fucked cunt, but also paying mind to your nipples that she took with her mouth when leaning in.

Holding her sadistic nature back was nearly impossible. Wanda wanted to break you, to slap her hands over your skin and leave you filled up with tears and bruises, perhaps gushing with red. Breaking you would be a delight. Taking your body and abusing every single inch of it, face buried between your legs as she scratched up your inner thighs until you bled. She could spend hours cleaning such beautiful red drops with her tongue if allowed to.

Wanda didn’t stop fucking you widly. She was set on not just bringing you to your climax, but having you enjoy the trip there. Her mouth was all over the place in an instant – your chest, sucking on your nipples lightly, your neck, your face, and making its way down your body only to go up once again as a tease. Fingers were curling themselves up and thrusting in and out. Given all the erotic stimulation exerted over you, it wasn’t long until you came.

Oh.

Never had you felt such an intense wave of pleasure overtake your being. Your eyes were wide, arms wrapped around the back of Wanda’s neck pulling her closer as your legs did the same. With an arched back, you got to press your own tits against her own. Her digits were still ramming into you without relent as your orgasm shook you apart, leaving you a hungry, and loud mess as Wanda smiled smugly.

You remained all quiet and blissed out let alone for your breathless mannerism and little sounds of pleasure.

“‘Slut’ seems fitting for you,” Wanda commented as she sat back with her fingers still deep in you. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet. Mommy still wants to play with your pretty pussy, honey. And you’ll let me do it whether you like it or not. Well…” she drifted off only to tilt her head and speak quietly. “That is unless mommy’s whore wants a punishment. That can always be arranged, my sweet babylove. I am very good at hurting people. You’ll get to see that firsthand.”

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Her insistence to own you entirely was something you adored. Wanda didn’t once hide it. You were hers, she told you many times. There were moments when you’d lay with her front pressed against your back, a toy nestled deep inside you that was strapped around her waist. She would use her nails to scratch your skin, leaving faded marks of her initials on you.

Although in secrecy, she’d never leave you to forget about who your true owner was. Whether it was with small touches when your families met every once in a while or glances shared from across the street as she tended to her garden and you simultaneously picked up the mail. Each day you spent at your hometown working from there remotely rather than the city you found it much more difficult to even humor leaving.

Your parents had been thrilled that you spent more time back home. Unbeknownst to them, you were sneaking out to meet Wanda at various motels, at times visiting her home while her husband was at work and her children at school. Never had your life carried such an adrenaline kick to it.

Wanda had invited you and your brother to join her family once on a trip to a nearby amusement park. While Vision, Tony, and the twins went on to explore all the roller coasters, you stayed behind with the redhead. She would make casual conversation, at times brushing her hand against your own to be a tease. That night she had punished you for having forced her into going on a rather nerve-racking ride where she screamed her head off, getting off all humiliated and mumbling something about how you were a bad girl for mommy. You got fifteen spankings for your trouble, but it was well worth it when in the end you got a picture of a frightened Wanda on the roller coaster.

For a moment you found it difficult to conclude where you stood with Wanda. Surely she told you about her unhappy and unfulfilling marriage, about how the spark had disappeared, and yet she was cold-hearted when you attempted to give her affection during certain moments. Regardless, you knew she craved you on some level at the very least. Both were content with that as it was enough for you.

She wasn’t as happy when you found yourself cornered by another neighbor at the annual town fair. Given the size of Westview, it wasn’t a truly packed event. At most you found peers who you knew since childhood, neighbors, shop owners, past teachers – of course one of them being one Maria Hill.

Unlike Wanda, Maria wasn’t so discreet when it came to her advances. She had a wife and children, and yet for some reason came onto you at the fair. It only made matters worse when you found Natasha chatting amicably with Wanda from across the event, feeling bad for the other redhead as your secret lover met your gaze and stared daggers at the tall woman hovering in your personal space.

When a hand touched down upon your waist, Maria mumbling something about how no one has to know, it was enough to prompt Wanda to rush towards you as a saving grace. She pretended to need help finding the twins and as loyal as ever, you agreed while throwing the brunette a quick glance.

“Did she touch you?” Wanda had snarled out. As angry as you knew she was, there was a surprising hint of worry in her voice.

When you nodded, her face scrunched up with both fury and sadness. You were far too anxious about being left alone for Wanda to act on her wrath, so instead she nestled you close and brought you with her to find something sweet to feed you, letting you have the cotton candy she had previously rolled her eyes at, mumbling on about how her little girl would get cavities.

That morning Wanda had dressed you up, sneaking into your house while your family was already off at the fair. She picked out your clothes – a beautiful short pink skirt, a white sleeveless blouse, thigh-high socks, and Converse shoes. The golden necklace which hung around your neck with a small heart was given to you. Mommy was elated to see her princess donning an outfit which made you seem like a doll. It was all she wanted at times, to take her pretty dolly and play house with you, to use you as though there was not a thought behind your eyes which, to be fair, was the truth when you were surrounded by Wanda. You were a doll and she was your master.

Holding onto those memories of the earlier day was the only way you got through the fair.

As soon as you got home, you ignored the way your parents told you they’d spend the night with your cousin across town, leaving alongside Tony who found your silence odd, but shrugged it off and left. Not caring about much, all you did was shrug off your clothes, put on an oversized shirt, and throw yourself over the bed to forget about Maria’s advances.

Wanda was far too busy on her own. After having sent off a text wishing you a good night’s rest, she went ahead to tuck her children in and say goodnight to her husband, promising to be back soon given she forgot to buy milk for the following day. Only instead of rushing to the store, she went to the Romanoff residence along with an ax.

It was the last night Maria ever shared with her wife and kids before being knocked unconscious and dragged to the edge of town where she was taught a lesson.

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You were asleep when a mysterious figure slipped into your room. Her breathing was ragged, drops of red falling onto your hardwood floor as she made her way closer to you. Darkness was prominent along your surroundings, leaving her hidden away as she crawled onto your bed. Hands tugged at her clothes, pulling it all off and, rather than pristinely folding the black dress, throwing it to the side of the bed.

All that lay beneath were drops that fell from her face onto her nude skin and a strap-on attached to her waist.

Wanda threw her phone to your side while unlocked and ready to play a video. Even in the dusk around her, she could make out the silhouette of your body as you lay on your stomach all sprawled over the bed. Such a perfect and innocent thing, she thought while sneaking a hand beneath your large shirt only to come in contact with nothing but your nudity beneath.

“I see you’ve been waiting for me,” Wanda muttered as she shook her head with amusement. “Naughty girl. So ready and needy for mommy already.”

After pulling up your shirt just enough, the woman shifted over you. She grabbed the dildo and ran the tip against your already slick cunt after you went to sleep with vivid images of Wanda in your mind. At the lewd sounds your body made once the toy was swirled up and down your folds, parting them in the process, Wanda grunted. After the adrenaline rush she had experienced, you were there to bring her back down.

At the feeling of something wet entering you, you frowned. You were barely conscious at the time, hazy eyes opening only slightly to see black let alone from the light of a phone by your side. Thinking it was yours, you grabbed it mindlessly, groaning as desperation fueled you.

“Hi there, sleeping beauty. Did you miss me?”

It was the unmistakable voice of Wanda which calmed you down as you had slowly begun trying to get out of the bed but were forced to remain in place. You didn’t dare give much thought to the idea that although you could be in danger, one word mustered by your lover was enough to get your breathing to normalize once again.

But alas, you basked in confusion. You reached out for the bedside table to click on the light, frowning before you turned around to face Wanda. “Wan- what are you doing?”

“Shhh I’m just making it all better,” she replied. Even from that you could sense an unhinged tone behind her words trying to make its way out. “We’ve talked about this, honey. I thought you wanted mommy to surprise you with her cock one night. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yes but…” you had wanted it, of course you did, but not with Wanda’s face covered with what you deduced was blood. At that you truly began freaking out. “Wanda what the fuck?! Are you okay?”

Your attempt to move away so you could take a better look at the woman failed. Instead, you were pressed down over the bed, your head stuck in place as you wiggled around. “Stop squirming, pet. Let mommy give you a little treat. You need it so bad after today, huh? Just a reminder of who owns you?”

Her jealousy was not something you were unaware of. Many times Wanda’s green monster came out to play, its tint similar to that of her eyes. You could barely hold a conversation with one of the other neighbors, although older ones, without feeling someone boring their eyes at you – that someone being Wanda who huffed and puffed up until you finished your conversation. Seeing others be able to chat so casually with you in public without anyone growing suspicious was something she desperately craved.

She completely ignored your worries and began inching deeper inside of you. It was a deep red toy you knew so well, its ridges deliciously ghosting against your pussy and stretching it out even more. It was thick, girthy enough to make you scream at the feeling of it laying in your depths.

“You’re so tight, little one. It looks like mommy has to take care of this hungry pussy with her cock once again. You are so desperate. It’s fucking adorable, slut,” Wanda breathed out. She held you close to her body which shivered at the feeling of cool blood against it. “Here, baby. Grab mommy’s phone. I have a little surprise to show you.”

“Um…” you did as you were told, but were profusely confused. “Yes, mommy. I- fuck that feels so good.”

Wanda thrust her hips forth and basked on the sound of your skins slapping together. “I know, whore, but you have to be good and do as you’re told,” she tilted her head and watched how the faux light accentuated the way your cunt swallowed her toy. “Hmm you take cock so well. Such a precious tiny angel. Now play the video. I want you to see how good mommy is at protecting her property.”

When doing as you were told, everything stopped. You wouldn’t dare question Wanda about her blood-stricken face nor did you need to after the sight in front of you. The video showed Wanda standing over a fallen Maria, ax in hand that she kept swinging up and down. Blood pooled underneath the brunette’s body each time she got hit.

43 cuts is what your lover counted in the video before she grew tired and her adrenaline fuel ceased. She was breathless, eyeing the camera with a smile before taking a break to go again. Her resentment with Maria was not left behind at the party. Not only had the woman touched the redhead’s property, but she also made discomfort grow within you. The punishment she received was Wanda being reasonable.

“Watch it, baby. Come on. Be a good girl and keep your eyes open.” Wanda’s voice was sickly sweet as she grunted above you. She couldn’t stop herself from focusing on how glorious the wet sounds of your pussy were as you were fucked nice and slow with her strap. “That’s what happens when people try to take what’s mine. You’re mommy’s little bitch in heat, no one else’s.”

It was wrong. Oh so wrong.

And yet you were unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, watching intently as Wanda began swinging the ax over and over until even a drop of blood dripped down the foggy lense of the phone’s camera. Her arms flexed as the black dress she had worn at the fair earlier that day became stained with red. As maniacal and psychotic as she seemed, your cunt throbbed at the image.

“Mommy protects what is hers. No one dares take my property,” Wanda moaned as she grabbed your cheeks, throwing her head back as she thrust in you roughly. “My fucking pussy. Every fucking inch of yours is mine, Y/N. And you’ll move back home and it’ll stay that way, right? You’ll do that just for mommy?”

She slapped a hand over your ass and for a moment you could barely process the words. Your brain was filled with images of Wanda taking Maria’s life, the woman motionless beneath the redhead who giggled with each hit she gave. Seeing the possession she had over you, getting to the point she wouldn’t let such horrid behavior against you slide easily, made your heart flutter.

“Come on, baby. Cum.” Wanda kept spanking your backside until it was all red and sore, the crackling sound becoming an orchestra for your ears. Her cock remained nestled in you, being pulled in and out of your gaping cunt that swallowed it whole. “Do it for mommy, honey. Show me what a good little slut you are, how much you fucking love it when I kill for you.”

It was enough to bring you over the edge. For a moment you had no thoughts in your mind, Wanda using a free hand to grab a fistful of your hair and pull at it harshly. She wanted your eyes on the phone that displayed the flashing images of her taking care of Maria, leaving her all bloody, battered, and filled with cuts. You were to know what she could do if you dared misbehave. Wanda wouldn’t allow you to leave whether you liked it or not. There was always room in her backyard for you to take your eternal nap if so.

Once you came down from your orgasm, Wanda kissed your back all over. She was consumed by your presence, all drunk with your being. You were the drug she quickly became addicted to. Her status, her marriage, and even her children meant nothing when she was by your side.

“Such a good puppy,” Wanda mumbled. “So good, baby. You did so well for mommy. I’m very proud of you for being good today, for obeying me as you should.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

“Hmm of course, sweetheart. I have to reward good behavior,” she said. “We should really clean your bed sheets and floor up before the morning. I wouldn’t imagine your parents are keen on seeing a bloody mess in your room…or me.”

The following day not a member of Wanda’s family dared question her as she rolled a rather intriguing piece of meat through the meat grinder. She wondered if Maria’s spouse would like a slice of her famous lasagna. Perhaps then she'll stop looking at you with such desire. After unknowingly getting a taste of her wife, Natasha would surely leave you alone.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wlw #dark fic #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #lesbian #marvel smut

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msmk11 · 6 months ago

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Just Like All the Other Angry Boyfriends Before

James Potter x Hufflepuff!fem!reader

WC: 4.2k

CW: angst; hurt/comfort; fluff; idiots

Summary: Two idiots in love who don’t know how to handle their emotions properly- aka school dance drama

A/n: yall said you wanted this fic even tho I lowkey hate it, so here it is!

Shrill squeals echo through the stone corridor as you make your way to the Great Hall after class. You turn the corner to find a group of girls surrounding Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom. Alice is blushing profusely as you hear her declare, “yes I’ll go to the formal with you!”

Frank whoops excitedly and draws Alice into a warm embrace. There are more squeals from the girls, so high pitched you’re sure they’ve shattered your ear drums. As you pass the happy couple, you smile at them warmly and share your congratulations. On the inside, however, you grimace. You’re no antagonist to fun, really, but as the winter formal continues to approach closer and closer, and you are still without a date, you find yourself beginning to reject the idea of any formal at all. It’s not that you have a lack of options either- plenty of people have asked you- but rather, you’ve been holding off in hopes that a certain special someone will.

Begrudgingly, you accept that if you put things off much longer, you will be dateless. And while you’re not necessarily opposed to going alone, you’d rather not when nearly all your friends have dates. Lily has Mary, Marlene has Dorcas, Alice has Frank, and Remus has Sirius.

That leaves you and James.

Although you’re a Hufflepuff, you throw your stuff down onto the Gryffindor table and plop into a seat next to Lily. You huff dejectedly and rest your head on her shoulder, “Why does everyone have to be all happy and in love? It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid honey, you’re just bitter because P-“

You slap your hand over her mouth and glare at her, “SHH there’s people around.”

“Right, sorry,” she replies, prying your hand off her mouth.

“Also…” she pauses and sniffs your hand, “is that a new lotion? What scent is it?”

Before you can answer, you’re interrupted by Mary who sits down on the other side of Lily and kisses her on the cheek.

“Uh, babe, why are you sniffing her hand?”

“I’m not weird, I swear! She’s the one who shoved her hand in my face. I just wanted to know what lotion she was using.”

Mary gives the two of you questioning looks.

“Potter” Lily mouths.

Mary nods in understanding and smirks. She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she shifts her attention to the raven-haired boy a few seats down.

“Still waiting for him to ask you?”

“Mhmmm.”

“You know, it is the 20th century, you could try asking him for a change.”

“Excellent idea, love! Oi, Potter, come here,” Lily shouts.

You glare at them in panic and mumble, “I hate you both.”

James looks up from his conversation with his friends and slides down the bench towards you.

“We have a very important question for you,” Lily says.

You glare at her once again, “I think Lily here is actually far over exaggerating the importance of the question. I’m sure whatever discussion you were having with Remus, Peter, and Sirius was much more urgent.”

James chuckles, “It’s the opposite actually. Remus and Sirius were arguing over what they are wearing to the formal. So really, you saved me.”

You let out the most pitiful laugh, cursing your luck.

“So… what is this very important question you wanted to ask me?”

You attempt to act nonchalant as you ask him if he has a date for the formal yet.

“Oh, the formal? Not yet, though I have a few options in mind. But if you’re implying you want to go together, I’m totally down.”

You’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat.

“I mean, I don’t want you to go alone while everyone else in the friend group has a date.”

This time, your heart drops.

“Oh, so you don’t mind doing me a favor and taking me to the formal?” You ask, an accusing tone to your voice.

“Right, that’s what friends are for,” he says, innocently.

Nail in the coffin.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ll only go with me because you feel sorry for me and because you don’t think I can get a date to the formal?” you ask angrily.

“No I-“ he begins defensively.

“Well you should know, Potter, that I do have a date to the formal, and I was only asking if you had one because I was worried you were going to be the one going alone.”

“Wait! You’re going with someone?!” He says, shocked.

“Don’t act so surprised. Just because I’m ‘one of the guys’ to you doesn’t mean I’m not desirable to other people,” you retort.

Then, you stand up and snatch your books off the table. As you storm away you hear him yell, “Wait, but who are you going with?”

Great question.

*****

Back in the Hufflepuff dorms, you sit in one of the common room chairs stewing over your recent interaction with James. While your initial reaction was anger, time has led way to more intense feelings of hurt. While he didn’t outwardly reject you, the sting of the friend zone was just as painful. You needed to move on, but with who?

The universe seems to answer your question in the form of Amos Diggory.

Amos Diggory- an arrogant, handsome, girlfriend-stealer, with an intense fear of commitment. He would be perfect.

No foreigner to flirting, you put on your most charming smile and call out, “Hey Diggory…”

He looks in your direction and you motion for him to come sit. He smiles at his friends and shoos them away. As Amos comes and sits down next to you you know that, if this goes according to plan, you will royally piss James off. The two rival in looks and on the quidditch field, and James cannot stand Amos.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, looking you up and down.

“So, you, uh, have a date to the formal yet?”

“No, I prefer to go alone. So my options are open.”

You smirk teasingly, “What if I can convince you to change your mind?”

Amos smiles at you seductively, “I’m listening.”

“Well, you like to go to these things alone so you can entertain the attentions of many girls. But, if you go with one girl, me, you’ll get even more attention. What is going to happen when all of the girls at Hogwarts think that the Amos Diggory is off the market?”

“You have me intrigued,” he says, “And how are you not in Slytherin with that devious little mind of yours?”

“I prefer to keep it my little secret.”

Then, you lean closer to him, “Though I guess it’s our little secret now.”

Amos is falling perfectly into your trap, and you know that he already wants to kiss you. You pull away before he even gets the chance.

“Before I agree, what’s in this for you?” He asks.

“Revenge on James Potter…”

If your flirting hadn’t fully won him over, this does.

*****

In the evening, you make your way to the Gryffindor common room where you always do homework with your friends. Though James, Peter, and Sirius consistently show up late, you make sure to leave extra early to avoid conversation with James at all costs.

You forget, however, that James sometimes knows you better than you know yourself. So when you arrive, he is already there on the couch, waiting for you. Lily and Remus are spread out on the floor, Mary is sprawled across a red chair, and Dorcas is lying in Marlene’s lap reading her textbook while Marlene writes a paper. James shoots up from his seat as you walk in.

“Hey! Can we talk?” He asks anxiously.

Although they pretend to hide it, you know your friends are secretly listening. Still, you don’t care.

“No, James, we can’t. Although it may be uncharted territory, you and I are in what people call a fight. So just let me be.”

“But shouldn’t we talk?”

“No, James. I don’t want to talk. Not right now.”

The fight leaves his body and he retreats, “fine. I’ll just leave you be.”

He grabs his stuff and goes up to his dorm as you settle yourself in his place.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Remus asks softly.

“Maybe,” you say, “But I’m sick of always downplaying my feelings to protect his. It’s not fair to me.”

Lily grabs your hand, “you’re right, it’s not fair. And I’m sorry for pushing all of this on you, it wasn’t my place.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Mary adds.

“Well, I’m not. This just encouraged me to get over my silly little crush and focus my attentions on someone who will actually take interest in me. There are plenty of people out there.”

“Hell yeah there are!” Marlene says encouragingly.

Dorcas smacks her arm, “Marlene! James is one of your best friends!”

“So is she! I love them both, but she’s right, she needs to do what’s best for her.”

“Just don’t push him away completely,” Dorcas tells you seriously.

“I won’t,” you sigh, “He‘s still so important to me. It just won’t be in the way that I hoped.”

Silence falls over the group.

“Who fucking died?”

Everyone jumps and turns to look in the direction of the voice. Behind you stands Sirius and Peter, both with perplexed looks on their faces.

“James, after she fucking tore him apart earlier,” Marlene replies, motioning to you.

Peter nods as he plops down by your feet, “Oh right! I heard about that.”

Sirius smacks you upside the head, “Yeah, what was that all about?”

“He basically called me a fucking unattractive loser. What else was I supposed to do?” You say, smacking him back.

“I think you’re over-exaggerating just a little bit,” Mary responds cautiously.

“I mean, I think he was just trying to be nice. Maybe it hurt because he essentially friendzoned you?” Lily adds.

“Wait, do you have a crush on James?” Sirius asks you.

“Sirius, have you really never noticed?” Remus responds disbelievingly.

Sirius only shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. James is the perfect golden boy and I’m just another one of Potter’s stupid fangirls who follows him blindly and makes a fool of themselves.”

“Honey no,” Lily starts, “it’s not that it’s-“

“Can you not lecture me, please?” You interrupt, “Maybe I overreacted, but is it so wrong to be angry about being pitied. Especially by someone you really care about?”

“No, it’s not,” Peter tells you, “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you respond dejectedly.

It’s quiet for a moment and you’re stuck stewing in your own self-loathing.

Then, Lily speaks up again, “Uhm, I have one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject.”

You nod, encouraging her to continue.

“Who are you going to take to the formal? Because you told James you had a date, even though you didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah, uhmmm about that…” you say, laughing nervously.

“What rash thing did you do now?” Dorcas asks.

“I may or may not have asked Amos Diggory to be my date to the dance…. And he said yes.”

Marlene laughs loudly, “Oh shit!”

*****

To avoid conflict, you decide that it’s best for you to go to the formal with Amos and his friends rather than string him along with yours. Tension is already high between James and you, and you know Amos’ being there would only make things worse. You try to push it out of your mind, but you can’t help wondering who James is taking to the formal with him. You picture all the prettier, smarter, and better girls he could be going with, and your stomach begins to ache. You are also worried about what people will say in relation to you going with Amos.

Your thoughts start to spiral. Will people hate you? Will James hate you? Is your dress all wrong? Will you be the worst dressed there? The anxieties are endless and there seems to be no relief in sight.

Still, you push through and doll yourself up, masking your true feelings behind layers of hairspray, makeup, and itchy fabric. Your dress is light blue with a silvery sheer fabric over top, like fresh snow on a frozen lake. The top half is form-fitting with silvery straps, and the bottom spreads outward in a loose skirt. You twist back the front strands of your hair with silver clips and adorn your face with light makeup and shimmery eyeshadow. At promptly eight you drag yourself to the common room where Amos sits with his friends and their dates.

You put on a fake smile, “Amos, you look handsome.”

He looks you up and down, “I know. And you look hot.”

What a gentleman.

You say a polite thank you and avoid some of the stares you’re getting from the other girls. You can tell that some are jealous already, yet they maintain outward politeness, which you’re grateful for.

Amos, at least, extends his arm, which you grab, as you walk towards the Great Hall. Your walk is filled with polite conversation about simple things from quidditch, to class, and plans for the holidays. So far, it’s not as bad as you thought, though you wished you would have just gone dateless with your friends.

You cast these regrets aside, however, when you arrive at your destination. To no one’s surprise, the Hogwarts decorating committee has outdone themselves once again. The typical long, wooden tables are gone and in place is a magnificent white dance floor that seems to shimmer like the snow. Warm, golden globes of light hang from the sky and snowflakes fall from above, though never reaching the ground. The room is an explosion of silvers, whites, and blues, and you’re sure you’ve stepped into a winter wonderland.

“This is just-“ Amos begins.

“Wow” you finish, “Like a winter wonderland.”

“And you’re its queen,” he says.

You blush in spite of yourself.

“Compliments won’t get you a kiss so soon,” you tease, “It’s only eight.”

He bites his lip, “fine. But I can only restrain myself from a beautiful girl so long.”

You laugh lightly and swat him on the shoulder. Then, music begins to play.

Amos motions towards the dance floor, “shall we?”

*****

As James adjusts his tie in the mirror, he can’t help but think about what a pathetic loser he is. Although he’d had plenty of girls who he could have gone to the formal with, he continued to wait, assuming there would be someone better coming along. Who that person was, he wasn’t sure. But now, he was alone.

And then there was you. He doesn't know what happened. One second you two were fine, and then suddenly, you blew up. While he knows that he insulted you, he can’t understand why you are so angry. Sirius said not to overthink it, that girls are just complicated, but you are one of his best friends. He knows there is something else going on and it’s left a terrible pit in his stomach.

“Earth to James!”

“Huh?” He awakes from his trance and notices that Peter is waving his hand in front of his face.

“You ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They head downstairs and meet up with the rest of the group- Pete and his girl from Ravenclaw, Sirius and Remus, Marlene and Dorcas, Mary and Lily, and you-

Not present because he is an ass.

James wonders who you’re going with.

They all cheer loudly, “James, you look great!”

“Thanks, guys, but it’s you all that look great.”

“Hell yeah we do!” Sirius exclaims.

Everyone laughs and begins to file out the portrait hole down to the Great Hall. Despite being the only dateless friend, James’ spirits are lifted by their jokes and ramblings. When they reach the dance, everyone oohs and aahs over the shimmery decorations. Instantly, James cranes his neck, looking for you in the crowd as he walks with the group towards a table off to the left. As they all set their stuff down, the music begins to play and couples rush to the floor. His friends join them, excited to dance.

“James, you coming?” Sirius asks.

He shakes his head, “next song.”

Sirius shrugs and walks off with Remus. James continues to search the crowd, looking for you. He realizes he doesn’t know what you’re wearing- and he supposes he never asked. James wonders if best friends are supposed to do that sort of thing.

Probably.

It hits him, then. With everything that’s been going on lately- being head boy, quidditch captain, and taking ridiculously hard classes, he’d sort of ignored you. It’s no wonder you’re so angry with him.

James feels totally guilty until he sees you. It’s then, he realizes, that he has a reason to be angry too. There you are, after all his moping and worrying, with Amos fucking Diggory. James knows that he hasn’t been the best of friends lately, but Diggory? That was his rival! You were crossing a line.

But what really bothers him the most is the way you’re laughing at something Diggiry said. He is hardly funny, and has the personality of a piece of paper. And why are you leaning so close to him? He’s not even that attractive or charming.

As you swirl across the dance floor, he watches how your hands hold tightly to Diggory’s shoulders, like he’s your anchor. James also notices Diggory’s hands around your waist, far too close to your ass, and his blood boils. No way would he let his rival feel up his friend.

When the song ends, James begins to stalk towards you two, but is pushed backwards by Sirius and Remus.

“Not worth it mate,” Sirius warns.

“But Padfoot, this is unbelievable. She is unbelievable. How could she ever agree to go with him? She knows how much I hate him, and is just trying to get back at me.”

“Mate, it’s this type of thinking that pushed her into his arms,” Remus mumbles.

“What, what do you mean?”

“James, she asked him to the formal after you basically made her feel like shit. Whether she realized it or not, she turned to who she thought would hurt you the most. She wanted you to feel what she was feeling, even a little bit.”

“It’s not her best decision, but ignoring her wasn’t yours either,” Sirius adds.

James rubs his face tiredly, “God, I know.”

Sirius pats his back, “Just… take a few minutes and then come join us. Don’t let it ruin your night.”

“And while you’re sitting here, maybe reflect a little more on why you’re so upset,” Remus adds.

“Rem-” Sirius says with a warning tone.

He puts his hands up defensively, “I didn’t say anything. Let’s go.”

As they walk away James notices their slight bickering. He laughs at them in spite of himself. Secretly, he’s always been a little bit jealous of their relationship. Though they are far from perfect, they’re comfortable with each other in a way that he can only hope for. He thinks the fact that they were friends for five years before they dated helped. There’s this trust and friendship that is so necessary in order to support the love and passion that comes with romance.

As another song ends, James decides not to get up from his seat. He watches Amos and you some more. While his blood is still boiling, there is a twinge of something else.

“Maybe reflect a little more on why you’re upset.”

*****

Surprisingly, you’re having more fun with Amos than you thought you would. While you would never date him, you appreciate his company tonight. He’s been making you laugh all night, so you’re surprised when another song comes on and he suddenly gets serious.

“You know, gorgeous, I’m not one to waste my time on Potter, but he’s been glaring in our direction for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Just ignore him.”

“I would, but it’s kind of hard when he is burning holes into my head.”

You huff apologetically, “God, I’m so sorry. I hope it’s not ruining your night.”

“Eh, I’m used to Potter throwing temper tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. He’s clearly just mad he’s not dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Pfft, yeah right. He’s just mad that I’m dancing with you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?”

You hum in agreement.

“As I’m sure you know, I have a reputation for girlfriend stealing.”

“Yes? And?” You say, confused.

“Well, with stealing girlfriends also comes a lot of angry boyfriends. And Potter over there, he looks exactly like all the angry boyfriends I’ve dealt with, who want to beat the shit out of me.”

“Which makes no sense, because he doesn’t act like a boyfriend whenever we’re together. It’s not fucking fair. He doesn’t want me, but it’s like he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.”

“Listen to me. I may not know what the fuck is going on with you two, but it’s pretty clear to anyone that you guys both have feelings for each other. So, as your date, I think it's my duty to end ours early. We both achieved our goals- all the girls in the room want me, and Potter can’t take his eyes off of you.”

You release a shaky sigh, “Okay, fine.”

As the song ends he releases you and gives you a wink, “Well, for now, this is goodbye. Since I’m sure you’ll be Potter’s girlfriend by the end of the night, I imagine we are going to be mortal enemies from now on. Or until graduation at least.”

You chuckle a little as you straighten his tie one last time.

“Go get him,” he says.

You stand up on your tip toes and kiss him on the cheek, “Bye Diggory. Next time I speak to you, you better be settled down with a nice girl, at 9 ¾, with your rowdy kids for their first year of school.”

He laughs and you part ways for the night. Before you allow yourself to approach James, you walk outside to the courtyard nearby. You lean up against the railing and look out towards the stars. The cool breeze fills your lungs and is comfortable against your hot skin. It’s silent except for the soft notes of music drifting out from the Great Hall.

“So, you and Diggory huh?”

You jump at James’ voice and turn to him, “Yep, and you and the invisible girl. I thought you were Mr. Hotshot, with plenty of girls lined up as possible dates?”

“And I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be loyal.”

You scoff, “It wasn’t personal, James. Just a silly little date to a silly little formal.”

“Bullshit” he yells, “You were mad so you went and found a date that you knew I would hate!”

“God, you are so conceited! Not everything is about you. Maybe I just liked Amos’ company. He’s not all that bad, you know.”

“Oh, so now you’re defending him? Next thing I know there’ll be wedding bells.”

“Maybe there will be. He’s funny, attractive, and actually gives me the time of day!” you retort.

“Just so he can get you into his bed, fuck you, and then ignore you after,” James shouts back.

You stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“I mean, Merlin, is that really what you want? I know it's not my place to give my opinion about who you date or-”

“And that’s the whole problem,” you interrupt.

“What?”

“James, you're my best friend. I want your opinion about these things- even if I don’t always want to hear it. It at least shows you care about me. Lately, it’s like I don’t even exist.”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. You deserve better. A better friend and…” he steps a little closer, “a better romantic interest?”

You let out a small laugh, “romantic interest?”

“What? If this night has shown me anything, I clearly don’t know what- or who- you’re looking for in romance. And that’s on me. But I want that to change from now on.”

You take a deep breath and step even closer to him. You look up into his hazel eyes, your faces so close your noses are almost touching.

“Well, in the name of change, I guess I have to confess, I do have a romantic interest… in you.”

“And as a part of my duties as your best friend, I believe it my responsibility to tell you that… you should go for it.”

Already so close together, you merely stand on your tip toes and lock lips with James. He kisses back and puts his hands around your waist. For a second, he pulls away.

You look up at him with questioning eyes.

His grip on your waist tightens, “I don’t ever want another man’s hands here ever again. It was driving me crazy tonight, the way Amos was touching you.”

You smirk at him, “Jealous are we?”

He grunts in affirmation and pulls you in again. The kiss lasts a few minutes with you up against the railing. At first it’s fast and passionate. But with time it becomes slower and more sweet. More loving.

Eventually, you slowly pull apart. You look at him softly and ask breathlessly, “So, do you have a date to the formal yet?”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

The Holiday Spirit

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You don't have much reason to enjoy the holidays until a generous man walks in the door.

Character: Captain Syverson

Day Thirteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i just can't wait until the holidays are over

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch the snow gather at the corners of the large window pane with dread. The longer it falls, the more your anxiety rises. How on earth are you supposed to get home? Not too mention the more important question, how are any customers supposed to get in the store?

Your phone jingles at the very thought, your manager calling as if she could hear your silent plea for rescue. You grab your phone but don't answer until the fourth ring. You don't want her to know you've been doom scrolling the weather forecast.

Gloria greets you without formality, "what's it look like there?"

"Um, bad," you answer honestly. "Snowy."

"I mean customers. What are the numbers?"

"Oh..." you blink and look around the empty shop. "I think most people are staying home. There hasn't been anyone since I started."

"What about the walkway? Have you shoveled it?" It's as much an accusation as a question. "They won't come in if they can't get in."

You wish you had the courage to mention that it isn't just the sidewalk, you haven't seen car drive by in over an hour. Those you can see are parked and not going anywhere as the snow piles over their windows. You frown and again, look at the windows in horror.

"Go out and clear it and maybe you'll sell a few pieces. No point having the lights on if you're not doing anything," she snips.

"Meredith closed up across the street--"

"I don't care what that old crone did. Get out there. The shovel's in the back room." She commands.

"Okay," you agree meekly.

You know you shouldn't be such a pushover but you need this job. Even if it isn't much. It's a small independent shop that sells candles, lotions, and random nicknacks. You're not really sure what to call it.

You hang up and go into the backroom and grab your coat. It's not the best. A sherpa thing you go used at the Good Will. Your boots are a couple years old and you can tell. You wear three pairs of socks just to keep your toes from hurting as bad.

You pull on your thin gloves and grab the shovel. You approach the front door and gaze through the glass. Look at it! You'll be lucky if you don't get lost.

You go to push through the door. You have to shove your shoulder into it just to get outside as the wind blows angrily. The door slams behind you and you plant the shovel into the thick snow as you look around. Ugh, where do you even begin?

This time of year is always too much. Who decided the holidays needed to be in the middle of winter? It's not fair, but life just isn't.

You scoop up the snow bit by bit. Your muscles ache as you try to heave into out of the way but as the powder builds, it's only more and more difficult to do so. As you final get clear of the door, you look back and see a new blanket of white. It doesn't matter, you'll be outside all night if you try to keep it clean.

You work your way across the store front as the sky continues to dim. It never really got light as the sun stayed hidden in the clouds. You put your head down against the swirling flakes and you grip the shovel tight. You groan and grunt each time you lift it.

"Now what they got you out here doing all this for?" A grizzly voice draws your head up and you bat your lashes as snow catches in them. You stare up at the burly man in his heavy brown coat and black toque. His beard is sparkling with flakes.

"Um, I... work in there," you nod to the store. "Gotta make sure people can get in."

"Y'all should be at home," he tuts.

"It's just me," you shrug.

"That's a shame. Damn big shame," he shakes his head, "lady like you shouldn't be out here in the cold."

"Well, it's my job, I guess," you say.

"Here," he puts his hand on the handle of the shovel, "you go in. Get warm."

"Oh, no, I couldn't--"

"Do you know what my mother would do if she knew I just walked on by a little lady like you struggling in the snow?" He argues.

"I... thank you, that's too kind. But, you probably have somewhere to be."

"I'm just walking," he assures you. "I like the snow."

"Oh, right, uh..." you let go of the shovel reluctantly. "Thanks, I... I feel bad."

"Don't. I feel bad seein' ya shiver your nose off. Go on."

You scrunch up your mouth guiltily and push your shoulders up. You back away step by step as you stare at him. It's been a while since you met a single person who wasn't demanding or just downright rude. Maybe holiday cheer isn't dead.

You retreat inside with a sheepish smile and let out a brr as the door swings shut behind you. You rub your hands together then peel of the wet gloves. You tuck them into your pocket and unzip your jacket. You go to the back room and chew your lip.

You're not the Christmassy type or whatever other special occasions are going on. You hate it all. It's too shiny and loud. Too greedy the way people will argue over something as simple as a three-wick candle or face scrub.

What family you do have aren't very cozy. You haven't talked to either of your parents in two years and your sister never really answers your texts. It's just you and it isn't so bad. Other people just make things complicated. Without them, you have the control.

You put your things away and tramp back out to the till. You can see the snow flying through the windows. The man effortlessly throws chunks of it out of his way. Somehow, he looks even bigger from there.

You feel awkward, especially with no one else around. You go to a shelf to distract yourself, turning the jarred candles label out to appear busy. The bell above the door jingles and you look over your shoulder at the man. He pauses before he enters to shake the shovel off then leans it against the wall.

He looks around as you retreat from the candle display and watch him. There’s not much for him here. You’re sure he’ll be off soon enough. He rubs his hands together then strips off his mitts. He slips them into his pockets and gives a curious glance over the table of bath bombs and salts.

“You know,” he brushes his fingers over his beard so some of the melting snow falls away, “I’m looking for a gift.”

“Oh? Well, we have lots here,” you keep your distance. You’re not sure you believe him. He’s probably just humouring you. “Thanks again for shoveling. You know, you don’t have to stick around. Actually...” you peer through the windows again, “should probably head out sooner than later.”

“I got time,” he argues. “She’s real pretty. Girl I’m buyin’ for. So she probably wants somethin’ smells pretty too.”

“Right, uh...” you twist your fist around a finger. You might as well get a single sale. It’s more than you hoped for. “We have some nice seasonal candles. Apple crisp, or candy cane, oh, the fruitcake is kind nice.”

“You like candles?” He asks.

“Sometimes. I don’t get the big ones.”

“Ah,” he comes closer and you make room for him to browse. He picks up a smaller one and sniffs it. It looks tiny in his beefy hand. All of him sticks out among the dainty aesthetic of the boutique. “Mm, caramel brulee.”

He reads the side and his eyes scan the shelves again, “what else do you like? Think maybe you know best.”

“Oh, um, I...” you have to stop yourself from saying you don’t shop here. It’s too expensive. You get the discounts on dupes down at the mall. “Bath bombs are popular right now. Especially these snowflake ones. Oh and, we sell hot chocolate bombs. Those are edibles, these ones aren’t.”

You point to the table as you pass him. He follows. You laugh nervously at your own lame joke.

“Makes sense. I like hot chocolate. It’s the perfect weather for it, huh?”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree.

He comes to stand beside you as you gesture to the merchandise. You’re not used to that. The rare customer is a bit oblivious to physical space but more often they stay around the other side of the table. He’s right there.

“Face masks too. It could be a little self-care kit if you wanted,” you suggest.

“Mm, it does sound nice,” he says. “You think it’s a good present?”

“Well, I get paid to sell this stuff,” you shrug, “but yeah, it’s hot bath season.”

“Makes sense,” he nods.

You step back and give him space. He hums and circles the table as you go back to the counter. You check your phone. *Extreme Weather Warning*. You should call Gloria back and let her know. If the county says you should go home, you’ll insist on doing so.

“Cherry blossom or... vanilla coconut?” The man asks.

“Hm, vanilla,” you smile at him then quickly look at your phone again. You type out a text to Gloria.

He surprises you as he approaches and puts down a selection of items. The candle, a few bombs, some face masks, a shampoo bar, one of the little lotion and balm kits, and a spa headband. It’s a lot and it’s all very cute.

“Think that’s good, don’t you?” He asks.

“I think so,” you scan each item. “A very special lady indeed.”

“Sure is,” he taps his fingers on the counter as his eyes bore into you. “I’m Sy, by the way...” he reads your name tag aloud and you’re surprised until you remember you’re wearing it.

“Sy,” you repeat back. “Need a bag? Sorry, we’re all out of wrap or I’d offer that.”

“Bag is just fine, think my girl’s easy to please. She appreciates the simple things,” he grins and grips the edge of the counter.

“Alright,” you unfold a paper bag and gently place the items inside. “I hope likes it all. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Me too,” he takes out his card and swipes.

The machine dings and the receipt prints. You tear it off and hand it over, sliding the bag across the counter. He takes the slip of paper but leaves the purchase as it is.

“Um, did I forget something?” You search the countertop, worried something rolled away.

“It’s for my lady,” he gently nudges the bag back across the counter.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“S’for you, sugar. So you can warm up tonight.”

“Tonight? Sir--”

“Sy,” he insists, “best get home before the storm gets worse.” He turns to look out the windows. “No one coming out in this. Might as well close down.”

“Sy, this is very nice of you but I’m fine. My boss wants the store open--”

“Your boss?” He turns back to you and tilts his head, “ain’t a good one if they aren’t thinking about you gettin’ home safe.” He stares you down and looms over the counter, “’sides, a lady’s only boss is her man. So you go get your coat and things and we’ll be off.”

“Sy, that’s... that’s not—I'm not your lady--”

“Not?” He narrows his eyes. “I know you ain’t got another man, you wouldn’t be here if ya did.”

“I-- no—but--”

“You come with me or I stay,” he crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the counter. He plumes a snarl out of his nose, “up to you, but you’re not goin’ out in this alone, sweet thing. Need me there to dig ya out, don’t you?”

You flinch and shake your head, “I don’t-- I don’t know you--”

“Sure ya do, I’m Sy,” he grins. “And I know you. You’re the most pretty girl I ever seen.”

You stare at him. He’s as formidable as the heaps of snow building outside the shop. As dangerous as the patches of ice forming on the road. He is a storm in man’s clothes. He’ll bowl you over just as easily as those winds.

Just like the blizzard blowing in the street, you can’t escape him.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x readaer #sand castle #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover

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greenflowerceo · 5 months ago

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hii im suuper late to my own week ik (i'll post the rest of the days from time to time, college applications were a pain </3 but i've got most of it down

This piece is a redraw of my very first post ! This has been a wip since the start of the year so my art style unsurprisingly changed a bunch as i tweaked the lines and colors. it's not the best but it's looking as good as it can be!

as for the zine, people are free to draw up pieces for the week up until the end of september and we can compile it all together! it's not really the usual zine format but who knows.. we can maybe try to figure out a way to formally start a more structured zine project for these two

Anyway! I've decided to dedicate my greenflower week posts to my headcanons I've made up for them from the past 4 years.. I figured you guys could take a peek into my brain since I haven't really been good at that unless you catch me in a vc :") there's a buncha hcs and old ass art i never posted finally unearthing under the cut if you wanna take a peek

So, first thing: Body headcanons..

i took super long getting what i want with this waay back when I started posting cause I was still figuring out a lot with my art. i couldn't get in good details/features that would properly differentiate them or make them fun to draw. I wasn't striving to be really innovative with the designs or anything, I just wanted them to feel like characters I like looking at and thinking about

finally, i'm somewhat able to settle on these as of right now! It will most likely update as the time passes and my art changes, but this is what I got!

basically the main idea is that i wanted Lloyd to be bulkier but sharper. grew up fast and has all these edges, but then you get to know him and he's just a big ol dork. Mostly wears loose-fitting clothes that hides his figure, but he's quite built underneath

Brad's a lil taller and pretty lanky. my art style may not be able to show that properly but lloyd can snap him in half <3 he also seems hella chill but that's probably cause he got balls of steel after living through a million ninjago invasions

This thing below is an old outfit concept I have for a project that I've been working on. does not reflect my current headcanons with his physical appearance but i do like his clothes

I think he loves his role as the green ninja, saving the world and such. it came with lots of baggage and reflection but i do promise that he enjoys it for the most part. I think him wearing green is kind of like wearing work clothes so he tends to avoid it on days when he's free to keep from being too ready to jump into ninja mode

i do tend to keep him in green though cause the fandom sure does love their color-coded ninja

anyway .. that's about most of what i've got for this that looks good enough to post, so here's a bunch of other doodles/sketches, both old and new ToT

oh and a quick comic too cause why not

one more: bonus greenflower yuri

thanks for coming to read this far :) there'll be more soon

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #brad tudabone #ninjago brad #lloyd x brad #ninjago greenflower #greenflowershipping #forgivenshipping #forgivenship #evan's art!#evan rambles!

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demonic0angel · 6 months ago

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Haunted Paintings Sketches!

Part one

I hope you enjoy the sketches I made of the paintings!

Also! You’re free to use my ideas (please give credit ofc) if you’d like, bc I REALLY don’t think I’ll write this one, no matter how much I want to. It’s just too much and I’ve already got 3 unfinished fics and several other series to write for. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a submission! You can also DM if you’d like!

TW: mentions of suicide, murder, depression, mental illness, just really dark, creepy stuff bc these are haunted paintings and they torment people :/ no scary drawings tho! I only described them (click for clarity)

Jazz:

Description: Jazz is sitting at a table in the middle of a flower garden with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She looks tranquil and is dressed formally. On the table are a few plates, a plate of cookies, a bookmark, an opened envelope and a bloody butter knife, and a teapot that is slightly out of view.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, watercolor, and pencils

Focus: Jazz amidst the flowers

Inspirations:

• The Queen of Hearts from “Alice in Wonderland”

• Galna from “Mairimashita! Iruma-kun”

Location: She used to be in the home of a random crime lord in Gotham for intimidation purposes. She was kept in the crime lord’s office before being relocated into Wayne Manor, where she sits in the hall across from the library.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where her tea is filled with blood and the roses would be replaced with decapitated heads. The sky would turn dark red and the ground would be a pool of blood. Jazz would smile and look at the viewer with shark-like fangs and hollowed out eyes.

+ The tea she drinks is Darjeeling and the cookies are chocolate chip.

+ Although Jazz is the weakest painting, her effects are deadlier, more painful, and longer lasting than the others if her victims survive.

+ She causes paranoia and dizzy spells. Her effects are rather weak compared to the others, but when spending enough time with her, victims can also display symptoms of scurvy, which cannot be cured.

+ She was the first one I drew and also the easiest to plan. I just love her so much, she’s one of my comfort characters so it’s not hard for me to find ideas for her 😭

Valerie:

Description: Valerie stands in the middle of a dark, foggy forest, wearing a long dress and pressed close to a tree as if she is about to hide behind it. A branch covers her face and the trees around her curve into a circle with multiple holes within them. There is a Fenton thermos in the background on the floor and an axe in front of Valerie, sticking into the tree and oozing something.

Use of mediums: pencils and watercolor paint

Focus: Her hidden face

Inspirations:

• The Son of Man by René Magritte

• The Beast from “Over the Garden Wall”

Location: She was kept in the back of an art museum, but the director has been hoping for someone to buy her and get rid of her, since he cannot handle the strain of having her inside of the gallery. Now she stands near the door to the entrance of Wayne Manor, a silent and deadly sentry.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would have her surroundings to turned into the entrance to a mouth or an intestine, red, fleshy, and bloody. There would be bones littering the floor everywhere and Valerie herself would become bloody and stained, with her face still hidden. Tortured faces would be seen through the fog.

+ The holes on the trees sometimes leak a mysterious substance.

+ Valerie is not the weakest, but she is not that powerful. However, she does amplify the others’ effects to fatal degrees.

+ She causes paranoia and auditory hallucinations, often causing her victims to feel as though they are being watched relentlessly, which cannot go away. Eventually, her victims will shut themselves into their rooms and starve to death from the fear.

+ She and Tucker had switched ideas, but I had to trash them. I never got the opportunity to draw those ideas because I struggled so much with Tucker that when I eventually got inspiration for Valerie, I just went with it. I’m quite happy with Valerie’s portrait now.

Dani:

Description: Dani, dressed formally, sits at the head of a table with a large painting and curtains behind her. She holds a fork and a knife over a pig head. Her gaze is downward and she looks like she’s frowning softly. The dinner table is messy with three other dishes and a knocked over bottle of wine.

Use of mediums: oil paint and oil pastels

Focus: Dani holding the fork and knife

Inspirations:

• Rosie’s Tea Party by Mark Ryden

• “Spirited Away” (specifically that one scene where Chihiro’s parents eat the food)

Location: She was hidden by Vlad and kept safe with him. He keeps her in his office, where he can watch her. He only recently found her again, and he was determined to watch over her. Now she stays in the Wayne Manor's dining room, but often changes her position to be next to everyone else in the bedroom hallway.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where all of her food dishes would be replaced by very obviously human parts, especially with the pig head becoming a human head. The curtains would turn to blood dripping down the wall and Dani would be smiling, taking a direct bite of the human head that was in front of her with her fork and knife.

+ The dishes she eats in the painting are: pig head, vulture thigh, lamprey eels, and sheep brain.

+ Her at the dining table is meant to signify greed and gluttony, 2 of the most simplest sins.

+ She causes great feelings of hunger and paranoia in others. When spending too much time with her, some victims turn to self-cannibalism to sate their never ending starvation.

+ Originally, both her and Dan’s ideas were switched, so Dan would’ve been the one feasting and Dani would’ve been the one looking at her reflection. However, I switched them around because I felt like it would’ve been spookier. I even finished the drawing with Dan and everything, but then I just erased him and drew in Dani 😓

Dan:

Description: Dan is standing in front of a mirror, glancing behind his shoulder, while his reflection shows something different: him looking at everyone else and the door behind him by looking at the mirror. The party guests are all wearing masks and there are chandeliers on the ceiling. The party looks vaguely fancy, but messy with secrets.

Use of mediums: Oil paints

Focus: His reflection

Inspirations:

• Jeff Lee Johnson and his art

Location: He was kept in a locked safe within a rich person’s house in Italy. He had to been wrecking havoc on the nerves of everyone around him, but he is now safe and happy in Wayne Manor, where he is kept in the office to the entrance of the Batcave.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form would have all of the party guests dead, but their eyes would face the viewer. Dan's reflection would also be dead, but his actual self would be the same, only with an eerie smile as his eyes follow the viewer. In the doorway would be the figure of Danny. Blood would cover the entire floor and walls, but nobody would react to it.

+ Dan keeps his own masquerade mask in his pocket.

+ The woman who is directly staring at him is supposed to look like Maddie.

+ He causes viewers intense mood swings and long, often violent mania episodes or mind-numbing depression episodes. Those who keep staring at him will gain the feeling of being watched and haunted, often with visual hallucinations, resulting in losing their mind from fear and then killing others in their terror and panic.

+ I tried so hard to make Dan as handsome as possible. I think I pulled it off bc I’m a little bit in love with him ong, but I also kinda have to be bc I draw him so often

Tucker:

Description: Tucker is in the back shot of a desert, with his back towards the viewer, staring at a large skeleton that is seemingly climbing over a large sand dune. The skeleton has flowers in its eyes, and its hand reaches over the horizon. There is a single sun in the sky and an arm holding a pocket watch sticks out of the sand close to the viewer.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, pens, and pencils

Focus: The large skull

Inspirations:

• JT Music (specifically their JT album covers)

• The Giant God Warrior from “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”

• “Dune”

Location: He was originally kept in one of the rooms within the GIW headquarters. Now, he is kept within Wayne Manor, and stays in the theater room, where he whispers to the Wayne residents what movies he wants to watch. Sometimes, he moves to the garage.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is one where the skull becomes covered in meat and flesh, oozing blood and tar while the sand turns red. The scene turns to darkness, and more limbs would sprout from the ground. Tucker would be nothing but a pile of flayed skin, crumpled into the sand.

+ GIW agents were unable to experiment on him, since he would purposefully cause machinery to misfire and slowly corrode his surroundings.

+ His painting is meant to be a little comic book-esque with one of his mediums being ink, but I felt like that wouldn’t be a PAINTing, so nvm

+ He causes visual hallucinations, hypovolemia, headaches, blindness, and osteoporosis :). Often, when his victims are autopsied, sand and salt can be found within all of their organs. He emits so much radiation that he can wear down the materials of the place he is stored in.

+ I DREW HIM THREE DIFFERENT TIMES OML, FIRST IT WAS HIM IN A WORKSHOP, THEN IT WAS HIM IN A MARSH, THIS IS THE FINAL PICTURE I CANNOTTTT IM DONE

Sam:

Description: Sam stands on top of a small, grassy hill with a path leading to a grave and an angel statue on top of it, close enough that she is blocking it. Around the hill are pomegranate trees and hanging corpses. There is no sun, but there are clouds as Sam stands with her back to the viewers in a long goth-styled dress.

Use of mediums: paper, glue, acrylic paint

Focus: Her standing on the hill

Inspirations:

• This Reddit picture of a liminal garden

• A mix of weirdcore and dreamcore aesthetics

Location: She was tossed into the ocean by her parents when they first saw her, but she later washed up on an island and now the animals and plants there act erratically and strangely. Finally, she was relocated to Wayne Manor, where she hangs on a wall within the greenhouse, happily watching over the plants there.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where eyes would replace all of the pomegranates, staring at the viewer. The paper used to make her would become flesh textured and bloody, and Sam would appear abnormal, broken into pieces and cracked, turning around and smiling at the viewer with shark-like teeth. The grass would become hairy skin and the sky would become red, with swirls and more eyes.

+ Sam's "painting" is actually made of mostly paper, since it is a collage. It is a bit touched up by paint and all of the materials used are vegan and ethically sourced, though they do change.

+ The flora and fauna in the island she landed on have mutated so much that they’re basically mindless. They protect Sam relentlessly.

+ She causes general insanity and relentless symptoms in her victims, such as paranoia, intense episodes of mania and depression, itchiness that can result in self harm, and violent, unexplained behavior in animals and plants. She also emits so much radiation that she can cause sporadic DNA mutations, resulting in several forms of cancer and mental instability, often resulting in victims becoming inhuman and monstrous forms of themselves.

+ Originally, Sam’s portrait was supposed to be in a garden, but I wanted it more “liminal space” themed, and I think I got it right. I think it’s really simple, but I also feel like if I was able to create it in real life, it would be more interesting because it is a collage of paper and paint.

Danny:

Description: a picture of black blotches and scribbles with muddy and red stains. Any features besides the ornate frame is hidden underneath the stains.

Use of mediums: pencils, ink, charcoal, tar, blood

Focus: His crying

Inspirations:

• SCP-035 (“The Possessive Mask”)

• The Anguished Man by an unknown artist (it’s a haunted irl painting!)

• Bendy and the Ink Machine

Location: He was cloning himself in order to jump through universes to find his family. In the current universe, he was with the League of Shadows before he was found and brought back to the Wayne Manor. He is in the hallway with the bedrooms of the Wayne residents.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is technically his normal form because he cannot turn it off. Once he is happy again, his normal form would be one with him and his family, smiling and happy. Until then, he haunts the minds of others and ravages their sanity.

+ He’s been traveling all over the multiverse in order to find his family. Coincidentally, they’ve all been in the same world for some time.

+ He screams all day and night for his family. It’s so bad that Danny has destroyed thousands of worlds in his grief.

+ He causes the worst of all symptoms, often causing the viewers who look at him to go insane and kill themselves or others, even if it is only a few seconds. Even those who stay in the same room next door to him are consumed with suicidal thoughts and intense moments of psychosis. Those who have survived encountering him and have some semblance of mind left say that he “cries” relentlessly. His paintings leak a black substance that corrodes the place around him.

+ Literally all I did for this picture was scribble in my notes app, take a screenshot, and then scribble some more on photos LMAO

Extra notes:

+ Jazz, Dani, and Dan showing their face while Sam, Tucker, and Valerie hiding theirs is intentional. Danny is a mix of both, because he actually IS showing his face, but you can’t see it past the black and red.

+ Every painting has a flower inside of it, specifically a carnation, which are often funeral flowers, and can mean gratitude, remembrance, love, and affection.

+ Every painting also has a mention or appearance of Danny in it.

+ I also tried to put hints of bad omens or signs of death within every painting. Some examples are Dani’s painting with the chopsticks sticking out of the bowl (a sign of bad luck and death), or Dan’s painting, where a woman is being strangled in the background and another is being killed.

+ All of the paintings generally have an ability to teleport to places nearby and can actually snatch up viewers to shove them into their domain. This can be a defensive mechanism (the paintings protect the Bats) or an offensive ability (they pull victims in and kill them). They also all have weapons on them that are hidden or not so hidden.

+ I struggled a lot with ideas and how to get started on some characters because I just had so many, and I wanted it to be creepy, but not noticeably creepy, like most paintings. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t able to use some of my planned ideas from inspirations of actual haunted paintings.

+ Discarded inspirations: The Rain Woman by Svetlana Telets (my favorite!! Please look it up if you can!!), this picture I saw on Reddit of a sheep being stuck under ice with its back exposed, a workshop idea with Tucker, and Dani and “Daughter of Evil” with mirrors and everything.

+ The world where Danny and co., come from is different from the world they’re currently in. It’s like a world where some people are the same, but others are not. Example: the GIW, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad exist, but Danny and Jazz never made it past their childhood. So basically a What-If world or something.

+ Their backstories are somewhat undecided, but basically, something dangerous happened to them in their home dimension and it was so bad that Danny captured all of their souls and put them into paintings so they would live (with the help of Clockwork). However, by doing this, he scattered their souls and paintings throughout the universes and he went crazy from it, and turned himself into a painting too so he could find them. Now his cloned paintings travel and sends itself to other worlds to find his family again, often leading to their destruction from his power.

Or something? Lol

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bugbachelor · 1 month ago

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when it comes to the Trix's looks the general fandom interpretation that Stormy is the least feminine style wise out of the Trix continues to baffle me. because there's a lot of things canon is very vague about, but this is one of the few instances where canon is doing the exact opposite and Yet it's still such a common interpretation

to be fair, i think people tend to take her more abrasive louder personality and then draw from it that she should also be the most practically and sporty dress wise in the group and so on

and as a hc it's whatever, it's just really one of those instances where it's clearly the opposite in canon and people seem to genuinely gloss over it, when it's arguably such a funny aspect of her character

Darcy is the one that's always dressed the most practical on top of her hippy inspired fit. she's the only one wearing pants, both in her witch and civillian outfit. (she also knows how to ride a hoverbike for some unexplained reason. which the winx had to slowly learn in s3. some not elaborated skill going on here)

Icy's style moves closer to the preppy, formal ranges, with her collared top - tight skirt - high boots look. the tied back (up) hair also helps. and also the cape. she's got a cape in her witch form, can't stress enough how much of a fashion choice that is on her part

and Stormy's look is just giving summer party. like, it is. you've got a lot of flowy and wrapped fabric, and her open heels (which are a statement piece when your entire power is wind and storms and your signature fighting style consists of rain, lightning, and tornadoes)

out of them Stormy is dressed the most feminine And impractical at all times. ranging from being completely committed to skirts/dresses to preferring the party club look when her whole bit is hostile weather

actually, it's not even just a Trix thing i think Stormy is just genuinely dressed kind of not occasion appropriate even for a witch in general

this is apparently the general cloudtower/witch fashion

and Stormy pulls up to the wannabe goth convention with her breezy, flowy summer fit with ribbons both on her skirt, top, And on her open toed summer heels. those especially are kind of a bizarre choice on her part, since the predominant fashion trend seems to be boots, ideally pointy. kind of a mix between what Icy and Darcy are wearing. absolutely no one is wearing sandals or even open heels, style wise they're much closer to something Stella or Flora tend to go for even

Stormy is just fully committed to her sunny weather fit which i kind of have to respect

but i'm also mildly intrigued about the why of it? is that her genuine style preference and she just gives absolutely no fucks about what's in or expected witch fashion in general? or is the perpetual good weather fit some inside joke to her with her powers literally being 'bad' weather?

logistically in universe though, would there be some line you shouldn't cross with how much your shoes can look like you bought them from the same store Stella goes to? especially with how image focused and competitive the cloudtower environment seems to be. or would her style just read as completely out of fashion at cloudtower and this is just current fashion trends? we'd never find out because even if people Would have thoughts about it they would definitely not be voicing it to a senior classmate that's one of Griffins top students and can summon actual tornadoes. at that point you really could just do whatever you wanted (which, i mean the Trix already do that)

the take away just ends up being that Stormy clearly doesn't care about a) expected witch fashion, and/or b) what's weather appropriate. and yeah, does fit her character, i think she really would just do whatever she wanted and if that's the ribboned summer shoes that's what it is

(also, sure the flowy ribbons are a kind of funny fashion choice for her, but also, given how wind makes up almost half her powers, they're kind of a good one. those have to be so fun when you're walking or flying around and wind is blowing them everywhere. i get her)

#winx club #winx trix #winx stormy #txt

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shalomniscient · 6 months ago

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Silly dumb idea idk

but having to absolutely fight feixiao to let you do her laundry because her clothes are basically in 3 piles: Extremely formal wear (you mandate these be cleaned or else), clothes that smell like you, and clothes that don’t smell like you (yet) and she definitely prefers the 2nd pile so she doesn’t want them to smell like clean clothes

“feixiao, those clothes haven’t been washed for a week. this is unsanitary!”

the foxian woman bodily pinning you down to the bed and effectively restraining you from doing laundry only hums. the tips of her ears tickle your nose as they twitch, and feixiao snuggles closer against you, burying her face in your chest. when she looks up, teal eyes twinkling with mischief, you huff.

“i’m being serious!”

her hands squeeze the meat of your hips soothingly, placatingly. “so am i.”

“i can’t not wash my clothes, fei,” you say, exasperated. “i need stuff to wear, you know, that preferably don’t reek.”

“but they smell nice,” your overgrown fox of a girlfriend says petulantly, and you roll your eyes with another huff, wrapping your arms around her broad back.

“you are biased. my coworkers and boss are very much not.”

feixiao makes a lazy, unconvinced noise. “mm… they’re wrong.”

you let out a long-suffering sigh at her dismissal, hands moving to cup her cheeks as you play the last card you have. you meet her brilliant teal gaze and give her the best puppy eyes you can muster, ever so slightly jutting your lower lip out in a pout. “feixiaooo,” you whine, “i really have to do my laundry, baby.”

her expression shutters as you call her ‘baby’, ears twitching in what you’ve come to learn is delight. her hands squeeze your hips a little tighter before she looks at you again, her features contemplative.

“it doesn’t even take that long for my clothes to, uh— start to smell like me,” you wheedle. “i can spritz my perfume on it right out of the dryer. i promise you can steal all my oversized hoodies—“ although oversized for you means regular sized for her, “—once they’ve been thoroughly re-scented.”

feixiao hums for a moment, considering, then concedes. you exhale a breath of relief, cupping her cheeks and tugging her upwards gently to reward her with a kiss. she purrs at that, a low vibration in her throat, eagerly pressing her lips right back against yours like she’s trying to draw oxygen right from your chest. when she breaks away it’s with a satisfied sigh, but that glint of mischief still lingers in her eyes.

her head drops low as she presses a kiss to your collarbone as her hands creep underneath your clothes. you make a soft, pleased noise as you crane your head up to look at her, brows furrowed.

“what are you doing?” you ask, near breathless as her fingers trace the outline of your ribs, just beneath the swell of your chest. feixiao only grins, pointed canines glinting.

you find soon enough that foxians have other particular ways of scenting things that don’t involve perfume. it’s a little more… hands-on, but by the time feixiao is done, your scent is very much all over her, from her lips to her fingers.

#sev.responses #sev.scribbles #hsr feixiao #feixiao #feixiao x reader #this ask was so cute ausgjdkdksk #feifei being obsessed w ur scent is so real

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redr0sewrites · 10 months ago

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Hi! I'd like to make a request if you're still open for then. It's more like two, actually. I got my nails done the other day, and I've been excited to show everyone since it's the first time I've ever done this! I was wondering if I could get one for the hazbin Hotel men and how they would react to them. For the second one I was hoping for the same characters being with a chubby reader?

Specifically, I'm curious about husk, vox and angel dust but I also wouldn't mind the rest like Adam and alastor. Just no Valentino obvi

(Romantic pls! Preferably sfw for both requests)

Thank you so much!!!

YESSSSS OFC OFC!!!! i made the pt2 w chubby!reader hcs in a separate post and linked it ♥️

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff

🥀Pairing(s): Husk, Vox, Angel Dust, Lucifer

Husk

husk is 100% a supportive boyfriend and he admires you whenever you get your nails done

while he may not be super up to date on modern technology, he will TOTALLY take super aesthetic nail pics for you and do his best to make sure you and your nails look fabulous

if its your first time getting your nails done and your a bit nervous, husk has no qualms about accompanying you. toxic masculinity be damned, he'll sit beside you the whole time and chat with you and your nail technician about whatever

he gives great advice when it comes to colors and styles, and if you ever came to him for advice on what nails you should wear, be prepared for an entire formal slideshow on what colors he thinks would look best on you

husk loves when your nails tap against hard surfaces, the soft clicking is very soothing to him. his ears always twitch towards the sound of your fingers drumming against the bartop counter when your sitting with him while he works

he loves how your nails feel combing through his fur, and will absolutely PURR when you scratch his ears with them but will deny it to no end if you tease him about it

Vox

vox is pretty perceptive, and notices almost immediately that you changed your nails. he'll ask to see them, and will definitely praise you because of how stylish they look. vox knows you have good taste, your dating him after all!!

vox would probably show off your nails to others, and would offer for velvette to post about them on her sinstagram. or, he'll just post about you on his own account. maybe he'll take a photo of you and him with your nails in view, "casually" mentioning how lovely they look and drawing viewers attention to your lovely nails. he loves it when you both receive attention, and he wants people to know he sees you as a masterpiece

vox knows getting your nails done can take some time, and while he can't always be there in person, he'll make sure to call you or text you to make the wait more bearable. expect a lot of questions about when you'll be home, or how much longer the appointment will take

vox would probably start buffering and short circuit if he saw that your nails matched his color scheme. he LOVES the idea of you both matching through your nails, and might subtly suggest that you get blue and pink nails next time

Angel Dust

angel dust is practically your hype man! the second you tell him you're going to get your nails done he offers to accompany you, and will get a set that matches with yours!!! he loves holding your hand and admiring the way your nails match, and will randomly ask to hold your hand for the entire time you have your new nails

i'd say that angel has definitely gotten his nails done before and is probably pretty used to it, so he'll definitely calm any nerves you have. he looovessss showing off your guys' matching nails and will take a bunch of cute aesthetic nail pics with you!!!!

considering he's a celebrity, he would LOVE it if you got nails inspired by him!!!!

you two would totally have spa dates where you would go out and have full selfcare days, and get your nails done together. imagine just chilling with angel in a nail salon, relaxing as your nail technician works on your hands while your lover rambles aimlessly beside you. its a very affectionate and soft date that the two of you enjoy, and you end up going out with angel to get your nails done quite frequently

Lucifer

lucifer would 100% offer to accompany you if you were getting your nails done!!! he would love just getting to sit with you and chat while he watched you get your nails done, and would probably ask a lot of questions

once your nails are officially done, he showers you in compliments!!! he adores everything from the colors to the design, simply because you chose it

if you got super long nails or acrylics, lucifer would absolutely offer to do simple tasks for you. fumbling with a necklace clasp because your nails are too long? here, let him do it for you! can't pick up a tiny item? he practically teleports to your side! struggling to type?? here, just tell him what to say and he'll type every word for you!!!!

lucifer loves kissing your hands, and he loves doing it even more once you start getting your nails done. he'll press a kiss to each nail, traveling up to kiss your knuckles and then all the way up your arm to kiss your face

IVE NEVER GOTTEN MY NAILS DONE SO I TRIED TO BE AS ACCURATE AS POSSIBLE!!!!! APOLOGIES FOR ANY MISTAKES 😭 this was also my first time writing for husk + angel dust, which is actually shockers considering they're literally two of my favs

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p0rk-guts · 7 months ago

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"Pork you literally posted Charlie a few days ago why are you so Hazbin obsessed rn-" ssshhhhshhsshhs.h........ anyway

VAGGIE REDESIGN! And I changed her name also bc I'm jus like everyone else fr. Meet Verbena :)

BREAKDOWN BELOW!👇🏾+ Exorcist uniform redesign :3

Starting with her name this time. Back when she was still a sinner apparently she was Salvadorian and since she's (apparently?) not a former human at all I decided to take a small creative liberty with her decent and made her Venezualan instead. SOUTH AMERICUH❗❗✊🏾 I'm pretty sure Verbena flowers are native to South America so that's where the name comes from.

Onto the design! I don't have much to say abt her design honestly. It's not egregious, but it doesn't really speak to me either. It looks like simple formal wear or uniform with some strange meaningless accessories attached. And those weird itty bitty shoes that look like they're part of her thigh highs... I'm starting to think all the characters's shoes were a last minute afterthought. All and all it tells us nothing about her character. The hair wings are cool tho so I did steal those

Also the whole deal with her eye is strange to me. Why Is the floating X there??? It's a real physical part of the world, other people can see it. Do pink X's always float over angel wounds? If her arm got chopped off would an X float over it? Was it like. A fucking curse visual placed by Lute as a constant reminder of her disloyalty? Why did Carmilla point out it was an obvious marker for her being an angel???? My brain can't fathom why it's canonically attached to her wound. If she was a sinner I'd kinda understand but. Yeah idk. Weird

Also her missing eye does not look like an empty socket it looks like a purple circle was sticker pasted on to her face. It's very flat. How did we go from this

to this

(IT'S EVEN OVERLAPPING ONTO HER NOSE IN THIS SCREENSHOT WHAT IS THAT THING.)

Anyway. I made her hair resemble Polyphemus moth wings because 1. They have eye looking spots and angels are all eyes and 2. Well. Polyphemus has 1 eye. So . 💀

Her overall coloring however is inspired by a Promethea moth. I could say it's because Prometheus defied the gods and Verbena did a similar thing but the real reason is I made a spelling error while initially looking for a Polyphemus moth reference 💀 but hey they both have eye spots! And Iike their coloring for her way better

I also redesigned the exorcist uniform for her redesign bc I wanted her outfit to have reminiscent elements from it.

I gave way less time to the uniform designs, but I still had some main details I wanted to adress. I don't like how they have no armor save for their helmets. Their arm and leg pieces are made of some flexible material that tears easily. It's not giving soldier it's giving soldier costume from party city. The devil like horns are also confusing to see on an angel and the paradoxical design is never addressed. They can be evil and look imposing, but the horns just seem kinda nonsensically on the nose to show how evil they are. At least to me.

In my designs I gave them actual metal armor on their bodies so you can easily tell they're soldiers and it makes sense for them to battle in armor anyway. I also gave them more light "angelic" colors with gold details bc I wanna use gold as a symbol of angelic nature in my rewrite. I wanted their masks to show completely static expressions with wide grins to show how unnerving they are and to allude to the idea that everyone is happy in heaven, and they're all happy to do what they do.

Verbena's belt and shoulder pads draw visual similarities to the pauldrons and mid section pieces in my new exorcist uniforms to draw a connection between her and her past. The Blazer draping behind her back is also supposed to mimic the visual of folded wings. I also tried to do this with all the gold details in her design. The big hoops and belt we're 80's inspired because I decided to follow how in one of her old designs she died in the 60's (even had the big hoops and everything). In my rewrite exorcists are all former humans but I'll get into that later. Also she's got an eye patch now! Just. A normal one.

Charlie is still taller than Verbena just like in the original and idk how tall Vaggie Is exactly but Verbena is like 5'5 while Charlie is 5'11. Verbena's also got more muscle on her bc unless their muscle mass is hidden magically or they don't gain muscle for stupid dumb idiot lore reasons all the exorcists look way too slim to be military grade soldiers but what do I know

I combined a lot of pointy shapes with boxy shapes bc— more similarly to her pilot self— she can be volatile and fierce but also grounded and impassive. I added the slits to her skirt so she can be a sexy formal lady who can still comfortably throw a few kicks, and the heels— well. Idk I feel like she could slay in heels! She definitely doesn't wear em all the time but yeah. Chunky heels. I like them they're cute. Also she's got her little name tag on bc she takes Charlie's job for her SERIOUSLY! she's uh. Idk what is she. A bellhop? General security/protection? Either way she's locked in.

I imagine she had white irises like Adam and Lute along with brighter more saturated and heavenly colors in her hair (color picked from the Polyphemus moth) that turned darker and more harsh after the fall (color picked from the Promethea moth). Really visualizing her emo phase /j

Also I think the little eyes in her hair can emote with her. In the final design the line kinda makes an eyelid and it'd match her eyelid's movements. Sillay

Alright that's a wrap on my Vaggie redesign! No bonus sketches this time bc they're within the texts! Who knows what I'll do next. Who I will deface. I sure don't. I think I might rename Charlie so there's that. Anywhozies hope you like her <3

#my art #digital art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #vaggie redesign #exorcist redesign #couldn't add the flaming banner bc i hit photo limit oops #anyway. FUCK VIVZIEPOP ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

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py-dreamer · 9 months ago

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Macaque is big spoon

Lol the old men be snoozin and snugglin

(I was about to say sleeping but my mind is too dirty for that unfortunately-)

Y'wanna know why he big spoon?

The sun and moon thingy they have going on and...

Ehh, ehh? Y'see what I did there?

I hate fabric so god damn much.

WHY CAN'T YOU BEHAVE AND STAY STILL GODDAMN.

WHY MUST YOU CREASE AND HAVE LAYERS?!!? WHY CAN'T YOU BE SIMPLE AND FLAT

SAME WITH MACACA'S FUR.

WHY ARE YOU BLACK?!! HOW DO I RENDER YOU

TO QUOTE MY PAST SELF: "his true evil power is how hard he can be to draw"

LIKE MY DUDE. HOWWWWW.

Regardless, I'm still really happy with how the drawing came out like the lighting and stuff (just don't look at the fabric-)

Wukong couldn't give less than a flying f*ck if his pajamas matched. Like he's at home, let him be as much of a fashion disaster as he wants!

Heck, back in his day, he was prancing with a leaf skirt and that was acceptable, let the monkey be damnit.

But he would own something very funky like those peach shorts but specifically wear them on break days or in private

(Mac definitely made an inappropriate joke bout it; he has a mark you could read the king's fortune off of, on his right cheek-)

Mac loves his clouds cloudy king so sure, slap them on his pants I think he'd have those long fluffy or silky pajama pants and he like has a couple he switches out for every now and them.

Wukong struck me as a big shirt, short shorts guy

and Mac'doodles as a small shirt, big pants

On a more angsty note, after death I think he'd be a lot colder like its harder to generate body heat naturally so he'd be a lot more cuddly with his toasted marshmallow king cause he was literally toasty fried for 49 days in heaven (49 earth years if 1 year in heaven is a year belief is true)

I was really debating if they'd be in a tree like normal monkeys or in the stone palace cause like that's a whole thing.

Wukong is not only a king in name, he's got riches and a whole ass stone mansion, I want my boi to one day overcome his guilt and indesire for self care and move into the big boi house with his husbando...one day.

But until then, a girl can dream.

Cause come on, that'd be cool. I understand it'd feel real lonely without the stalwart generals and brotherhood but like he has new company and rekindling with his warrior might help with that.

I also think they'd rather sleep in a cozy lil alclove or like the beds in historical c-dramas that are kinda built in and they build a mini nest of sorts.

I was going to draw the monkeys but tbh, just wasn't feelin it...

Also wanted their tails to make a heart but the lil pointy bit always bugs me so I tried to make it into a more plausible scenario

And irl updates, I have been like formally rehearsing for a performance all week (as in a play) and practicing all day, just watched the 1st cast do it and its my turn tomorrow so wish me luck!

(btw I'm working with young kids, like 8-12 young and they all congregated around me when they saw me drawing like I was a glorified babysitter

And the amount of times I had to put the message on Mac's shirt on a different layer and hide it like bruh. The kids are lovely and all and I'd be happy to show my work but as you can see...not all of my works are...100% PG)

(pls reblog and feedback and stuff, I worked hard on this plss I beg...)

#lmk #lego monkie kid #my beloved #py's_art #lmk wukong #the hero and the warrior were like the sun and the moon #and the moon is the big spoon #i will die on this hill #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #lego monkey king #lmk fanart #shadowpeachshipping #liu er mihou #sun wukong

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charmed-quill · 25 days ago

Text

Burrow Bound// B.W x reader Chapter 10

authors note at end.

slight content warning for suggestive smut at the end. (nothing explicit)

originally requested by @littlegreenteacup

summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

next chapter

last chapter

word count: 5.5k (Oops?)

Y/N stood in front of her mirror, her hands frozen in the act of pinning her hair up for the third time that evening. The flat was quiet save for the faint hum of music drifting from her wireless speaker, but inside her head, it was anything but peaceful.

“This looks too formal,” she muttered, tugging the pins out and letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders. “Or maybe not formal enough. What even is the vibe for a dinner date with your friend’s brother?”

The word date made her stomach flip, and she groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. She glanced back at the bed, where three rejected outfits were draped over the covers like discarded plans. One was too casual, another felt like she was trying too hard, and the third—well, the third just didn’t feel like her.

“This is ridiculous,” she said to no one, turning back to the mirror. “It’s just dinner. With Bill. The same Bill I’ve seen countless times at the Burrow. No big deal.”

But the words rang hollow, and she knew why. This wasn’t just dinner. This was something more, something that felt weighty in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It was the first time in a long time that someone had asked her out, and not just someone—Bill Weasley. Steady, kind, strong, intimidatingly handsome Bill Weasley.

“What if this is a mistake?” she whispered to her reflection, biting her lip. “What if I’m reading too much into this? Or worse, what if he is?”

Her mind raced, conjuring every possible scenario, each one more awkward than the last. What if the conversation faltered and they were left with nothing but the sound of clinking cutlery? What if he decided halfway through that this had been a bad idea? What if she spilled something on him and made a complete fool of herself?

She crossed to the wardrobe, pulling out yet another dress and holding it up to herself. It was simple, soft green, and comfortable enough to feel like herself, but she hesitated. “Is this too plain?” she murmured, frowning. “Should I wear something more exciting?”

Her reflection offered no answers, only the same overthinking woman staring back at her. She sighed, draping the dress over her arm and flopping down onto the bed. Her cat, a small gray tabby, jumped up beside her, curling into a ball as if to remind her that at least he wasn’t worried about her appearance.

“This shouldn’t be this hard,” she told him, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “It’s just one evening. If it’s terrible, I never have to do it again.”

But even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted it to go well. She wanted to sit across from Bill and feel the same easy connection she’d felt when they were setting up Victoire’s party. She wanted to laugh with him, to see that soft smile that made his whole face light up.

Her mind drifted to the way he’d looked at her as she left the Burrow the week before, his quiet sincerity and the way he’d hesitated, as if she might slip away before he could finish asking her out. That moment had stuck with her all week, a small, stubborn thread of hope that mayb, this could be something good.

Shaking off the thought, she stood and grabbed the green dress. “Alright,” she said aloud, as if summoning courage. “No more overthinking. Just get dressed and go. What’s the worst that can happen?”

But as she slipped into the dress and smoothed the fabric over her hips, her heart continued to race, and the questions refused to quiet. What if this changes everything?

—

Bill crouched down to Victoire’s level in the cozy living room of Shell Cottage, her wide blue eyes locked on his as she clutched her ever-present dragon toy. She tilted her head, curls bouncing, her expression somewhere between curiosity and suspicion.

“Why do I have to stay at Grandma’s tonight?” she asked, her tone edging toward a pout.

Bill sighed softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Because Daddy has plans tonight,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice light and casual.

Victoire’s brow furrowed. “What kind of plans?”

Bill hesitated, searching for the simplest way to explain. “Well, I’m going out to dinner,” he said carefully, straightening her jumper as he spoke.

“With Grandma and Grandpa?” she asked, brightening.

“No,” Bill said with a small chuckle. “Not with Grandma and Grandpa.”

Victoire’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion returning. “Then who are you going with?”

Bill exhaled through his nose, realizing there was no way around it. “I’m going to dinner with Y/N.”

Victoire’s face lit up. “Y/N? Really?” She clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on her heels. “Is she coming here? Can I stay and play with her? Please?”

“No, sweetheart,” Bill said, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. “It’s just going to be me and Y/N tonight.”

Victoire frowned, confusion knitting her small brows. “Why? Don’t you want me there?”

“Of course I want you there,” Bill said quickly, his voice warm and reassuring. “But this is... well, it’s different. It’s called a date.”

“A date?” Victoire repeated, tilting her head. “What’s a date?”

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find the right words. “A date is when two grown-ups spend time together to get to know each other better,” he explained. “It’s kind of like... a special kind of dinner.”

Victoire considered this for a moment, her dragon pressed tightly to her chest. “But you already know Y/N,” she said matter-of-factly. “She comes to Grandma’s all the time.”

Bill smiled faintly. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But this is different. Tonight, it’s just the two of us.”

Victoire’s frown deepened. “Why can’t I come too?”

“Because sometimes grown-ups need time to talk without little dragons around,” Bill teased, tapping her dragon lightly on the nose.

Victoire huffed, crossing her arms. “But I’m not a dragon. I’m a princess.”

Bill grinned, leaning in closer. “Exactly, and princesses need their beauty sleep. Grandma’s going to make sure you have the best night ever.”

Victoire pouted, clearly not entirely convinced. “Will Y/N come back after the date?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Bill said honestly. “But I’ll tell her you said hello.”

That seemed to appease her slightly. She uncrossed her arms and leaned in closer. “Do you like her?” she asked in a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

Bill blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. “I think she’s very nice,” he said cautiously.

Victoire tilted her head, studying him intently. “I think you like her a lot,” she said decisively, as if she’d solved a great mystery.

Bill chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll see, princess,” he said, his voice gentle. “Now, go grab your bag. Grandma’s waiting for her favorite little dragon tamer.”

Victoire giggled, running off toward her room, her dragon flopping in her hand. Bill watched her go, his smile softening as he straightened up.

Bill arrived at the Burrow with Victoire in tow, her little hand clutching his tightly as she skipped along the familiar path to the front door. Her excitement about spending the night at her grandparents’ house had returned during the short walk, and she was already chattering about all the games she planned to play with Grandma.

As they stepped inside, the warm, familiar scent of Molly’s cooking wrapped around them like a comforting hug. Molly appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, her face lighting up at the sight of her granddaughter.

“There’s my favorite girl!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to welcome Victoire with open arms.

“Grandma!” Victoire squealed, running into Molly’s embrace. Her curls bounced as she hugged her tightly, her dragon tucked under one arm.

Molly stood, holding Victoire’s hand and smiling warmly at Bill. “Everything set for tonight?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough of a knowing lilt to make Bill tense.

“Everything’s fine,” Bill replied, his tone carefully neutral. “I just need to head back soon.”

Molly’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she guided Victoire toward the living room. “Off to meet Y/N, are you?”

Bill exhaled through his nose, already bracing himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s just dinner, Mum.”

“Dinner,” Molly repeated, her tone so light it was practically floating. She shot him a pointed glance as she handed Victoire a plate of biscuits from the coffee table. “Just a casual dinner with a lovely woman who adores your daughter and fits right in with the family.”

“It’s not serious,” Bill said firmly, crossing his arms. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

Molly tilted her head, her expression softening with that particular mix of affection and exasperation she reserved for her children. “Bill, love, I know you think you’re fooling me, but you’re not. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

He frowned, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Mum, I’ve been on one date with her—well, I’m about to. That’s hardly—”

“She makes you smile,” Molly interrupted gently, folding her arms across her apron. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile like that.”

Bill pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening. “I’m not ready for anything serious,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

Molly stepped closer, her gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s okay to be cautious, Bill. No one’s saying you have to make any grand declarations. But don’t close yourself off just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

“I’m not scared,” he countered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

Molly raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I just want you to be happy,” she said softly. “That’s all.”

Bill sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked toward the living room where Victoire was happily arranging her dragon and biscuits into a pretend tea party. “Victoire’s my priority,” he said quietly. “She always will be.”

“And Y/N understands that,” Molly replied. “She’s not here to replace anyone, Bill. She’s here because she cares—about Victoire and, if you let her, maybe about you too.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. The idea of opening himself up, of letting someone into the carefully built walls around his life with Victoire, felt both terrifying and tantalizing.

Molly gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go on, then. You’ve got a date to get to.”

Bill nodded slowly, finally meeting her eyes. “Thanks, Mum.”

—

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, biting her lip as she scrutinised her reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. The soft hum of music played in the background, but it did little to settle her nerves. She adjusted her top, a flowy, deep emerald green blouse that she’d picked specifically because it complemented her eyes, before smoothing down the black skirt that hit just above her knees. The outfit felt simple yet elegant, but now, under the harsh light of her flat, she was second-guessing everything.

“Too much?” she muttered to herself, turning slightly to check her profile. “Or not enough?”

Her hair was styled in loose waves, though a few strands were already beginning to rebel, falling across her face in a way she hoped looked charmingly effortless rather than frazzled. She reached for her wand, trying to tame the rogue strands, but her hand wavered.

“I’m acting like a teenager,” she muttered, setting the wand down with a sigh. Her heart was beating faster than it had any right to, and she couldn’t seem to stop the anxious thoughts swirling in her mind.

What if he thought this was a mistake? What if she said something stupid? What if the chemistry they seemed to share disappeared the moment they were alone together?

Y/N paced across her living room, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until Bill was supposed to arrive. Ten minutes to pull herself together.

She sank onto the edge of her couch, her hands gripping her knees as she tried to breathe through the nervous energy bubbling up inside her. This wasn’t her first date, not by a long shot, but something about Bill felt different. The stakes felt higher, and that terrified her.

“He’s just a man,” she whispered to herself, trying to inject some logic into her spiraling thoughts. “A ridiculously handsome man, but still just a man.”

Her attempt at calming herself only made her stomach flip more. She groaned, burying her face in her hands. Why did she feel so unsteady, like she was teetering on the edge of something monumental?

A knock at the door broke through her frantic thoughts. Her head shot up, her heart immediately leaping into her throat.

“Lord have mercy,” she muttered, smoothing her skirt one last time as she stood. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and walked to the door, her palms damp against the doorknob.

When she opened it, Bill stood there, dressed in a crisp button-up shirt that was rolled at the sleeves and dark dress pants that made him look effortlessly polished. His hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, glinted under the soft light from the hallway. He was holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, their bright colours clashing slightly but endearingly with his rugged demeanor.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bill’s eyes swept over her, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“You look, wow,” he said finally, his voice warm but slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure the words were enough.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you. You look great too.”

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I, uh, brought these for you. Victoire picked them out yesterday. Said they’d make you smile.”

Y/N took the flowers, her heart softening instantly. “They’re perfect. Please tell her thank you for me.”

“I will,” Bill replied, his smile widening slightly. “Ready to go?”

Y/N nodded, placing the flowers carefully on her kitchen counter before grabbing her small bag. As she locked the door behind her, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered even harder.

The warm golden light of the restaurant was inviting, but it did little to soothe the jittery nerves that seemed to hover between Bill and Y/N like an uninvited guest. As the hostess led them to their table, Y/N focused on putting one foot in front of the other, clutching her bag tightly against her side. Bill, walking just behind her, seemed equally tense, his gaze darting around the cozy room as if looking for an anchor.

They reached their table—a quaint little spot near the back, away from the bustle of the main dining area. Bill hesitated slightly before pulling out her chair, a gesture that made Y/N’s heart lurch unexpectedly.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft as she slid into the seat.

Bill nodded and took his place across from her, unfolding his napkin and setting it meticulously on his lap. The quiet between them lingered, filled only by the ambient clink of glasses and the hum of other conversations. Both reached for their menus almost in unison, burying their noses in the pages as if the neatly printed words held the key to dispelling the awkward tension.

Y/N peeked over her menu, watching Bill as he scanned the options with the intensity of someone defusing a magical bomb. The sight of him so focused, his jaw slightly tight, was enough to make her want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She was a grown woman, sitting across from a man she liked—a very kind, attractive man, no less—and yet she felt like a nervous teenager on her first date.

Unable to take it anymore, she dropped her menu onto the table with a soft thud and blurted, “Okay, I have to say it—I’m sweating like a whore in church.”

Bill froze mid-page turn, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, and Y/N felt her cheeks flush with immediate regret. Then, he blinked, and a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God. That sounded so much better in my head.”

“No, no, please don’t stop,” Bill said, setting his menu aside and leaning forward slightly, his grin growing. “Did you just say you’re sweating like a whore in church?”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, equal parts mortified and amused by his reaction. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “It’s a Southern thing. We have... colourful ways of saying things.”

Bill laughed then, a full, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve never heard that one before,” he admitted, shaking his head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m nervous,” Y/N said, dropping her hands and gesturing animatedly as she tried to explain. “Like, really nervous. And when you’re nervous, you... sweat? And I guess if you’re a, uh, ‘woman of questionable repute,’ sitting in a church might make you extra nervous. Hence the sweating.”

Bill leaned back in his chair, his grin turning into a chuckle as he shook his head again. “You Southerners have a way with words, I’ll give you that.”

“You have no idea,” Y/N said with a self-deprecating laugh, her nerves starting to settle now that the tension had been punctured by humor. “There’s a saying for everything. ‘Sweating like a sinner in Sunday school,’ ‘nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,’ stuff like that.”

Bill raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “So... should I be worried that you’re planning on teaching Victoire any of these gems?”

Y/N grinned, leaning forward slightly. “I make no promises. But hey, it might give her an edge in magical linguistics.”

“I’ll consider it,” Bill said, still smiling. “Though I think I’ll need a full guide to Southern slang before I sign off.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, relaxing fully for the first time since they’d arrived.

The laughter that followed felt easy, like the final piece of ice melting in the warmth of the restaurant. As they returned to their menus, Y/N’s nerves ebbed, replaced by a sense of comfort that felt almost surprising. Bill’s grin lingered as he glanced back at her, his expression softening.

The initial awkwardness that had lingered like an unwelcome third wheel had melted away, replaced by the natural rhythm of conversation.

“So,” Bill said, leaning forward slightly with a faint smile, “tell me more about this compass you’ve been working on. The one that spins like mad when someone lies?”

Y/N perked up at the mention of her work, her hands coming to life as she spoke. “It’s fascinating. The enchantment is so old, it predates most of the magical artifacts I’ve worked with. But the charm isn’t just tied to deceit—it seems to react to intent, like if someone’s even thinking about lying, the needle starts to twitch. It’s brilliant and infuriating all at once.”

Bill chuckled, his eyes fixed on her as she gestured animatedly. “Sounds like the kind of artifact that would drive curse breakers insane in the field. Too unpredictable.”

“Exactly!” Y/N exclaimed, her grin widening. “And I’ve been trying to stabilize it without stripping it of its original charm, but every solution I think of feels like it’s going to compromise the integrity of the piece.”

“That’s the challenge with older magic,” Bill said, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s layered. Every spell builds on what came before, like threads in a tapestry. You tug one, and the whole thing shifts.”

Y/N paused, her fork hovering over her plate, and tilted her head at him. “That’s exactly it. How do you even explain that to someone who hasn’t worked with magic like this? You’d think I was trying to unweave the fabric of the universe.”

Bill laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sometimes, that’s exactly what it feels like. The curse-breaking work I did in Egypt? There were days I swore I was one misstep away from turning an entire tomb into a pile of sand.”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes bright with interest. “You’ve got to tell me about one of those days. What’s the worst curse you’ve ever dealt with?”

Bill hesitated, his lips quirking in thought. “Worst as in dangerous, or worst as in humiliating?”

“Both,” Y/N said quickly, her smile mischievous.

“Well,” Bill began, his tone taking on a story-like quality, “there was one time I was working on a tomb near Giza. Seemed straightforward—a few standard traps, protective wards, nothing out of the ordinary. But then I triggered a curse that was... let’s just say creatively unpleasant. Every time I tried to cast a counter-curse, my hair turned a different shade of pink.”

Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth, her laughter spilling out despite her best efforts. “Pink? Oh, please tell me there’s a photo of this somewhere.”

Bill grinned, his ears tinged red. “If there is, it’s buried deeper than the tomb itself. But I spent a solid week as a walking sunset. My team wouldn’t let me live it down.”

“I can’t decide if that’s genius or cruel,” Y/N said, still laughing. “Whoever set that trap clearly had a sense of humor.”

Bill chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched her. “They definitely did. It’s part of what I loved about the job—figuring out the people behind the magic. Why they did what they did, what they were trying to protect or hide. It’s like getting to know someone through the spells they left behind.”

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a bit like that with the artifacts I work with, too. Every piece has a story, even if we only ever get fragments of it. There’s something magical about uncovering those pieces, even when it’s frustrating.”

Their eyes met across the table, and for a moment, the conversation paused. There was a warmth between them, an unspoken understanding that seemed to settle in the space they shared.

“You’re good at this,” Bill said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/N blinked, startled by the shift in tone. “Good at what?”

“At finding the magic in the small things,” Bill replied, his smile faint but genuine. “It’s easy to focus on the danger or the frustration, but you... you look for the story. The connection. That’s rare.”

Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and she ducked her head slightly, suddenly self-conscious. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Bill said, his tone firm but kind. “It’s a gift.”

The moment lingered, stretching just long enough to make Y/N’s heart flutter in her chest. She reached for her glass of water, hoping the coolness would steady her nerves.

“Well,” she said after a pause, her voice lighter now, “if I ever find another cursed compass, I’ll be sure to send it your way. Maybe you can turn it pink.”

Bill laughed, the sound rich and warm, and the tension that had built between them melted back into easy camaraderie.

The dinner passed in a blur of warm conversation and shared laughter, the initial awkwardness melting away as they navigated through the courses with ease. By the time the check was settled, both Bill and Y/N felt the kind of lightness that only comes from unexpectedly good company.

As they stepped outside into the cool London evening, Bill glanced at Y/N. The streets were alive with soft light from streetlamps and the murmur of passing conversations. He hesitated, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Do you fancy a walk?” he asked, his voice careful, almost shy.

Y/N smiled up at him, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I’d like that.”

They began to walk, their pace slow and easy as they meandered through the cobblestone streets. The crisp air carried the faint smell of rain, and the quiet energy of the city felt intimate, like it belonged only to them.

“So,” Y/N said after a few minutes, her voice soft in the stillness, “what made you want to be a curse breaker?”

Bill chuckled lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s going to sound cliché, but I think it was the adventure. The idea of traveling the world, uncovering secrets, solving puzzles, it was too exciting to pass up.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “Did it live up to the dream?”

“In some ways,” Bill admitted, his tone contemplative. “It’s dangerous, sure, but also fascinating. There’s nothing like walking into an ancient tomb and knowing you’re the first person in centuries to see it. But…” He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward her. “It’s not as glamorous as people think. A lot of it is just hard work and a bit of luck.”

“That still sounds pretty amazing,” Y/N said, her smile soft. “It’s not every day you meet someone who can say they’ve disarmed a cursed artifact.”

He grinned, his expression lighter now. “And it’s not every day you meet someone who can make ancient magical artifacts safe for a Muggle museum. I think we’re both in niche careers.”

Y/N laughed, her breath visible in the cool air. “Touché. I guess we’re both a little crazy for what we do.”

“Maybe,” Bill said, his voice quieter. “But I think it takes a bit of crazy to do something you love.”

Y/N glanced at him, her smile faltering slightly as she caught the sincerity in his eyes. There was a warmth there, a steadiness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.

They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the city wrapping around them. Y/N broke it first, her tone light but curious. “Do you miss it? Curse breaking, I mean.”

Bill considered the question, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sometimes. It’s hard not to, especially when I hear stories from my old colleagues. But being with Victoire…” His voice softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “She’s worth it. Every sacrifice, every change, it all feels small compared to her.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the quiet devotion in his voice. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said gently.

Bill glanced at her, his gaze steady. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

The quiet sincerity of his words made Y/N look away, her cheeks warming. She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re too good at this, you know.”

“Good at what?” he asked, his brow lifting in amusement.

“At saying things that make me feel like I’m about to float away,” she admitted, her tone half-teasing but mostly honest.

Bill chuckled, his own cheeks tinging pink. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing to let yourself float every now and then.”

They turned a corner, the streets quieter now as they approached a small park. The iron gates were open, and the lamplight inside cast a soft glow over the paths. Without thinking, Bill nudged the gate open and gestured for her to go ahead.

“Why not?” Y/N said with a grin, stepping inside.

They strolled along the gravel path, their footsteps the only sound in the stillness. Y/N tilted her head back, taking in the dark sky and the faint glitter of stars visible above the city. “It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?” she murmured.

Bill glanced at her, his heart catching at the way the light caught her profile. “Yeah,” he said softly, though his gaze didn’t leave her. “It is.”

She looked at him then, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The air between them felt charged, not with awkwardness but with something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

“Thank you,” Y/N said quietly, breaking the silence.

“For what?” Bill asked, his voice low.

“For tonight,” she said, her smile small but warm. “For making me feel... I don’t know, like this was exactly where I was meant to be.”

Bill swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He wanted to say something, to match her honesty with his own, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he let his hand brush against hers, the smallest of gestures that felt monumental.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she let their hands linger together for a moment before quietly lacing her fingers with his. The simple act sent a jolt through Bill, his breath hitching as he glanced down at their joined hands.

They decided to walk back to Y/N’s apartment, and the quiet hum of the city filled the space between them. Bill shifted slightly as he glanced at her. The warmth from the evening lingered, charged with something unspoken and electric.

“This is me,” Y/N said softly, her voice breaking the quiet. She gestured toward the building, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for tonight, Bill. I had a great time.”

“So did I,” Bill replied, his voice steady but quiet. He studied her face, trying to read the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. He should say goodbye, should let her go, but the way she looked at him, half nervous and half hopeful, made him hesitate.

Y/N hesitated too, reaching for the door handle. “Well—”

“Wait,” Bill said abruptly, leaning forward. She paused, her hand hovering mid-air as she turned back to him. His throat worked as he searched for the right words, his heart hammering in his chest. “I just… I really like spending time with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to face him fully, her gaze softening. “I like spending time with you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with something unsaid. Bill’s hand moved almost on its own, brushing hers gently. “Let me walk you up.”

Y/N nodded, her pulse quickening. The short walk to her door felt endless, the tension between them building with every step. When they reached her stoop, she turned to him, her keys dangling loosely from her fingers.

“Thanks again,” she said softly, her smile warm but shaky. “Really, tonight was perfect.”

Bill’s lips tugged into a small, crooked smile. “It wouldn’t have been without you.”

The air seemed to hum, the pull between them undeniable now. Y/N licked her lips nervously, her hand tightening around her keys. “My flatmate’s out for the night,” she said suddenly, her tone light and almost teasing. “So no pressure to keep your goodnight kiss PG.”

Bill blinked at her words, caught off guard by the playful edge in her voice. But before he could respond, she stepped closer, her gaze dropping to his lips.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Bill leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly grew hungry. Y/N responded immediately, her hands tangling in the fabric of his coat as she pulled him closer. His hands found her waist, gripping her firmly as the world around them faded away.

Her keys slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground, but neither of them noticed. Y/N’s back pressed against the door, her breath mingling with his as the kiss deepened. She tugged him closer, her fingers threading through his hair, and the low groan he let out sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and filled with restraint. “Are you sure—?”

“Yes,” she breathed, cutting him off with another kiss. Her hands slipped to the back of his neck, holding him in place. “I’m sure.”

His resolve crumbled. Bill fumbled for the keys, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door. They stumbled inside, their kisses growing more urgent as the door clicked shut behind them.

The small entryway was dimly lit, and they barely made it a few steps before Y/N tugged him closer, her lips moving fervently against his. Bill’s hands slid to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and the heat between them grew almost unbearable.

“Bedroom?” he asked, his voice rough and barely coherent.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she grabbed his hand, leading him further into the flat. The tension in the air was electric, their shared desire burning like wildfire.

tagged: @navs-bhat @neenieweenie @buendiabebeta

a/n: AHHHHHHH im screaming i've been so excited to write this chapter i went a little crazy. i think there's only one more chapter and epilogue left of the series. we will see. also i just cracked 31k words for this series. guys genuiely all my free time has been devoted to this fanfic it brings me so much joy.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley angst #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley fluff #american reader #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic community #hogwarts fanfiction

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