#I’m a little under halfway done with my One Piece charms!

[shima-draws]

Sorry I haven’t been posting as much art lately, I’ve been pretty dedicated to working on my shop merch :’D But I’m totally down to do another art challenge!! If you guys wanna vote 👀

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…�� she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

[ali-kitkat]

Strangeness and Charm

MGI 2021 One-Year Anniversary Gift Exchange

hello, im back for a little post for @khneltea you are the recipient for enemies to lovers and by gods i hope you like this! romantic, or well its implied, daminette enemies to lovers! also tagging @issaxcharlie as per requested in the server!

fic is under the cut!

Marinette understood that the bat team was sent to Paris to help her; now that it was just herself against Papillon, but she really wanted to kick Robin’s teeth in. She couldn’t stand him. He was a self-centered, entitled, little shit. How dare he come into her city and tell her how to do her job? 

The akuma attacks had been sporadic since she had revoked Chat Noir’s miraculous and the only attack that had occurred since Robin and the rest of the bats had arrived was Mister Pigeon. However, if she was being honest with herself that hardly counted as an attack in her or anyone’s books anymore. 

It took all of her self control to not throttle him on the rooftop, after she had cast the miraculous cure, when he said “If this is what qualifies as an attack for you, I would hate to see how you would fare against even one of Gotham’s villains.” She was livid, he had based his opinions on akuma attacks by one attack and one attack only. 

He had only been in Paris for a week and this is how he treated her, because of one little flare up by their resident akuma magnet? He had no idea what even counted as an attack in Paris nowadays.

Mister Pigeon? Definitely not. 

Siren? Absolutely.

Due to him being close to her in age, she had constantly paired up with him during her nightly patrols and she hated it. She wondered if this was his team's way of trying to get him to socialize or work on his people skills. If so, they were doing an absolutely shit job of it. 

At this point she really had debated whether or not being on Batman’s shit list would be worth dangling Robin from the Eiffel Tower by his ankles. She could do it. She knows she could, she had done it before in fact, to Chat before she took his miraculous away from him. In the end, she decided that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble it would cause her; but if she did accidentally hit him with her yo-yo while patrolling with him that night, no one would be the wiser. 

She elected to ignore the muttered curses and detoured from her usual route in an attempt to get away from the miserable bastard. Of course, Robin then scolded her for running away and being an inferior hero. At that point she decided to put even more distance between them, only to prevent herself from injuring a potential ally. If he could even be called that with his constant berating and demeanor.

It was then that she heard a scream, an akuma. Kwami, she hoped it wasn’t Sandboy again, especially since his usual appearances were during the night. 

She cast a quick glance at Robin and decided to leave him be. She took off in the direction of the scream, he was preoccupied by something on his gauntlet, if the blue light it was emitting was an indicator. Besides she had been fighting akumas for years now, the last thing she needed was Robin’s attitude and chiding rather than his help. 

He didn’t need to see her nightmares either if it was in fact Sandboy who was akumatized as well.  Sure, she wasn’t exactly the same thirteen year old girl she was when she first started battling akumas but Robin certainly didn’t need any more ammunition to use against her. 

He didn’t need to see that her nightmares were of herself, whispering in her ear, telling her to give up. That she was a failure, that she should just let Papillon have the miraculous. It would all be over, it wasn’t like she would remember that she was Ladybug anyways. Whatever wish he would make would erase the current timeline out of existence. She hated seeing it.

When she touched down on the street, the first thing she noticed was that it was empty. There was no sign of any akuma, no destruction or frozen bodies. There wasn’t anything, it was too empty, as if the people had just up and disappeared. It was incredibly unnerving. 

Casting another look around, she saw something dart into the shadows of an alleyway. She jumped to a neighboring rooftop and looked down. There it was, the akuma. They didn’t look like anything special, no obnoxious colours or outrageous outfits. Just someone in a simple, sleek suit in muted colours, their hair tied back in a dark braid and a drooping butterfly mask that looked like ruined eyeliner. 

They looked up and made eye contact. She flung herself back on the rooftop. The akuma’s eyes looked empty, there was no emotion or life in them. It was disconcerting. 

She looked back down into the alleyway to try to get another read on the akuma. They were gone. She rose to her feet and looked around again, just in case she missed something. 

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,” a low, gravelly voice called out. It sounded as if they had gargled glass. Marinette quickly turned around to see the akuma at the other end of the rooftop. “A little ladybug all alone. Let us see what kind of memories you hold, heroine.”

Then suddenly the akuma was in front of her, arm outstretched and their hand was pressed against her forehead. She watched as her memories played out in real time before her and the akuma. She watched as her memories played side by side, all at once. It was headache inducing. 

Marinette saw the first friend she made in almost a decade. She saw Lila threaten her and her friendships. She saw the day she had met Tikki, and the day she had received guardianship of the miracle box from Fu. She watched as flashes of her homelife flashed by, the few happy memories of her parents before the bakery’s popularity increased, before they began to neglect her. Before Lila’s honeyed words ruined what little she had left of them. 

She watched as memories of previous akuma attacks played out. Of how Chat Noir acted away from the crowds and cameras, how treated her like an object to be won rather than a person. She watched as she had scrubbed herself raw in the shower after he had touched her, as she scrubbed her teeth after he forced a kiss on her.

She watched as the attacks ended and her reunions with her friends had turned into screaming fits. The shouts of how she was flakey and that if she was just going to hang out with them only to ditch them halfway through their time together that they were no longer going to be friends anymore, that they were better off without her. She watched as Lila smiled from across the room, where she comforted her former friend. As Lila’s promises came to fruition.

She watched as her nightmares flashed by just as quick of her looking in the mirror, looking at the scars that the miraculous cure hadn’t healed. As her reflection had started to speak. That she should give up, let Papillon have the miraculous. That she wasn’t worth it, that she was all alone. As the whispered words of her former friends had joined in. She watched as images of Chat had appeared telling her that she was his and no one else’s.

She watched as she was left to pick up the pieces of her life.

Suddenly she was wrenched back and someone was holding her against their person. She could see one of the bat-themed vigilantes fighting against the akuma, it looked to be Red Hood with the way the streetlight was glinting off his helmet. She could hear herself breathing heavily and could feel the tears streaming down her face as she was swung away from the akuma.

When the person holding her landed on a different rooftop, she wrenched herself out of their arms. She hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled as far away from them as she could possibly get; then she buried her face in her knees. She covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the unrelenting images of her memories and nightmares. She didn’t want to see or hear anything. She certainly didn’t want to see anyone’s pitying looks or hear their scorn. She just wanted to forget, this akuma was most definitely Papillon’s newest masterpiece. 

She flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder and tried to inch away from it, without removing her hands from her ears. Unfortunately, the hand remained, grounding her ever so slightly. Finally she gave in and looked up. Robin was watching her, but rather than disdain or pity, his face was pinched with concern. She huffed out a laugh, it was weak and made Robin flinch. She shrugged his hand off and stood; she held her head high and wiped her tears away. Ignoring his questioning looks, she tossed her yo-yo out. 

“Ladybug,” he said softly. 

“Don’t. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t care,” she croaked. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, she just wanted to be done with this night and its horrors.

“Ladybug,” he repeated. “Regardless of whatever you might think or feel, you are not alone. There are plenty of other heroes who know exactly how you feel, who have been exactly where you are.” 

That stopped her in her tracks. Of course Robin of all people had seen her memories, her nightmares and her fears. She turned and glared at him, though she imagined it wasn’t all that effective. What with her tear streaked face and red eyes. 

“I know how you feel,” Robin sighed and she deflated. “That your best is not enough, that you, yourself are not good enough. I have been in your shoes. I have felt alone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” she sniped bitterly, closing in on herself.

“I apologize,” Robin stated. 

“What?” 

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I realize that I may have come off as too brusque and in doing so have diminished your accomplishments.” 

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just playing at being a hero. My villain just found out my identity and so did all of you and your team.”

“That being, it was not, nor is it, your fault,” he replied. “I made assumptions of which I am at fault for, and of which caused the predicament of which you have found yourself in. You cannot quit or give up because of several imbeciles, because if you do, you let them win. You do not strike me as a sore loser, Ladybug.”

Marinette let out a laugh and watched as Robin’s expression shifted. He no longer looked concerned, but was now smiling wryly at her. She returned the smile. “Thank you Robin.” 

“You are welcome,” he said. “Now I believe you have an akuma to take care of? Would you care for some assistance?” 

“I would,” she replied.

“I look forward to working with you more,” he said, “Marinette.” 

Marinette nodded, feeling her face flush at the way Robin said her name. “I do too Robin. I do too.”

[jean-kayak]

A Little Reward

Summary: You agree to help Keishin study with a way that might help the information stick (GOOD GOD I am bad at summaries pls just read it)

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x black!fem!reader

Warnings: smut (18+!!), unprotected sex, minor fingering, dirty talk, degradation, daddy kink, ass smacking, handjob, groping, reader is picked up, a lot of biology references, college!au

Word Count: 2,366

A/N: So, I finally understand what I’m doing in my bio 183 class, and when I tell y’all I am ECSTATIC, so that’s where this came from

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara​, @iwascrybaby​, @mxhriii​

When Keishin came to you asking if you could help him out with biology, you'll admit that it took him more than a couple of times to convince you. He claimed that he was so bad at it and that he didn't know how well he was going to do on the test.

You also knew that he was so bad at hiding how much he wanted to fuck you.

You weren't stupid. You always caught the way he would stare at you, and you liked the attention, purposefully putting a little more swish in your hips, knowing his eyes were drilling into your ass.

He was always catching you before you could walk out of the science building, offering to walk you back to your dorm, and he would spend the whole walk trying to charm the pants off of you. You wondered how many girls fell for it, not saying that you weren't falling for it either, you just thought you could make him work a little harder.

And it's not like you didn't want to fuck him either. He told you he played volleyball in high school, but he's seemed to bulk up a little more over the course of you knowing each other, his clothes like a second skin, so it wasn't hard for you to imagine what was hiding underneath.

He sighs as he running a hand through his hair, effectively pulling his headband with it, so he takes it off, wrapping it around his wrist. "I'm never going to get this," he groans in frustration.

"You haven't even tried," you say lightly, moving to lean against his desk, resting your hands behind you.

"I've been trying for thirty minutes," he sighs again, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe you need a little incentive," you offer with a shrug, and he leans back in his chair, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah? Like what?" He smirks, and you tilt your head to look up at the ceiling like you're trying to think even though you already know what you have in mind.

"I'll ask you a question," you start. "And for every right answer, I'll take something off." His eyes widen a little, and you give him a sweet grin.

He scoffs. "You're serious?" You hum as you shrug again. "What's the catch?"

"Nothing. But I don't think you'll get very far," you taunt, and you can see the challenging shimmer in his eyes, a look he gets whenever you both try to be competitive with each other.

You give him about another thirty minutes to go over about a quarter of the notes before you get ready to start the questions. "Ready?"

He nods confidently, thinking that this will be a piece of cake when you know that it's going to be the complete opposite. "ATP. What is it?"

You start off easy, and he huffs as he leans back in the seat, resting his hands on his thighs. "Bottom line, it powers cellular processes," and you smile as you nod your head. "Come on, baby, you gotta do better than that."

You give him a bored look, but you chuckle at his obliviousness to your plan. You uncross your arms before slipping your shirt over your head, letting it slide off your fingers and onto the floor.

You see him take a deep breath as his eyes zero in on the white lacy garment adorning your chest, accentuating your brown skin, your nipples just shy of being seen. "How's it made?"

He doesn't hear you, or if he does, he's too focused on your boobs to answer, and you snap your fingers, and he blinks slowly. "From ADP," he answers, clearly distracted. "Substrate level whatever," he adds, and you roll your eyes.

"What's it called?" His gaze hasn't left your chest, and you walk up to him, leaning down to rest your hands on the arms of the chair. You know your boobs are falling over the edge of your bra, and he releases a breath before he brings his eyes up to yours.

You walk around to stand behind him, leaning back down as you slide your arms over his broad shoulders before you hover your head next to his ear. "Answer the question, Kei."

"Phos...phorylzation," he says slowly, and you smile widely. You walk back to stand in front of him, and you see his hands turn into fists when your hands reach under your skirt.

You thumb at the side of your panties before slowly pulling them down your legs, stepping out of them, holding them on the edge of your finger. "Good job," you quip, and he watches you throw them to the side, the article landing on your shirt.

You take a step closer to him, and you lightly push his hands off of his thighs before you replace them, straddling him, and he bites his lip to stop himself from making any sound. You can feel your slick soaking his sweats, not expecting to get so affected by how he was only looking at you.

"What's the role of oxygen?" you ask next, and he closes his eyes for a brief second before he opens them, feeling another wave of arousal rush out when you see how hazy his eyes are.

You brush a few blonde strands out of his face as you wait for an answer, and his hands are twitching from how bad he wants to touch you. "It, uh," he licks his lips, his head slightly falling back on his shoulders. "Carries out metabolism."

His voice is airy, and you hum softly as your hands run down his sides, staying at his waist. "You're starting to get it," you praise, and you grab the hem of his shirt. He looks at you, his brows jerking slightly at your actions. "Wouldn't be a lot of fun if I'm the only one stripping," you explain, and he slowly lifts his arms up, allowing you to pull the clothing over his head.

You bite your lip as you toss it to the side, your eyes landing on his lightly defined abs, and he tenses when you softly run your hands over his abdomen. His clothes did a bad job at telling you what they were hiding.

You internally shake your head, remembering what you're supposed to be doing, and you look up to meet his eyes as your fingers lightly press into his skin. "The four main stages, in order," you tell him next, and he sighs shakily as your nails drag down from his shoulders, making him shudder.

He gets halfway through the answer, and you roll your hips just a little, and his hands shoot up to your hips before stopping himself as his head falls back. Your arms wrap around his neck, your hands lightly pulling his head back up by his hair. "Finish it."

You can barely hear him, but he gives you the rest of the answer, and you grab his wrist and guide him to the clasp of your bra. He quick to undo it, and you slowly slide the straps off your shoulders, your tits falling onto your chest as you slip it off, throwing it on top of the rest of your clothes.

"Shit," he mumbles, his eyes focused on your nipples that are starting to harden from the exposure of the cold air.

You chuckle softly, starting to feel your body becoming warm under his heated gaze. You guide his head up by his chin to look at you. "Pyruvate. What happens to it?"

His eyes dip down to your lips as you speak before returning back to your eyes. "It's oxidized."

"Yes. And?" you press, and he's starting to have a hard time controlling himself. "You've been doing so good," you praise, grazing his sides with your nails, and he bites his lip again.

He can barely get the answer out, and you shift again, his breath hitching at the stimulation, and yours hitching when you feel how hard he is under you. You can practically see his arms shaking with the urge to touch you, so instead of stripping you allow him to touch.

You can barely get the words out before his hands are moving to your chest, cupping your tits in his large palm, and you moan softly. His fingers play with your nipples, and your hands grip his shoulders. He moves his hands to your thighs, barely covered by your skirt, and he runs his calloused hands over your skin before they make their way under.

His hands run over your ass before gripping the flesh in his hands and spreading you open before pushing you down onto him. You let out a louder moan in surprise, and he does it again, groaning just as loud as he bucks up into you.

You feel the air slip from your lungs for a split second before you stop him. "Slow down, tiger. We're not done yet," you chide even though you want to fuck him just as bad as he wants to fuck you, but you want to tease him just a little bit longer even though you're teasing yourself in the process.

He lets out a small whine in protest, not having enough friction, but he lets you keep going anyway. "Let's make this more interesting, yeah?" He barely lets you get off of him, but his hands grudgingly let you go, and you stand before getting rid of your skirt.

He shamelessly lets out another groan at the sight of your shiny folds, and when you pull at the waistband of his sweatpants, he's quickly lifting his hips so that you can pull them down. You go to scoff when you see that he's gone commando, but your mouth falls open when his dick springs up, hitting his taut abs, the tip a deep shade of red.

He watches you bring two fingers to your dripping hole, swirling them around at your entrance before sliding them in, and you both moan simultaneously. You thrust your fingers inside of you a few times before slipping them out, your fingers coated in your juices.

You rest your other hand on his thigh, moving the other one towards his straining erection, using your slick as lube as you stroke him. Your hand leaves him, and he feels like it's gone too soon, but then he sees that you're putting your legs on either side of him as you line yourself up.

He grips your hips tightly when he's fully inside you, sighing easily at the feeling of your warm walls around him. "Next question," you speak up suddenly, and he's looking at you like you have two heads, and you chuckle softly. "We have to make sure you grasp the concept."

You're asking him questions, and he can barely answer, the only thing he can focus on is how your walls are grasping him. He knows you're doing this on purpose, asking him the same questions but in a different way, rolling your hips every time he takes too long to answer.

And that's his breaking point.

You're about to ask another annoying question, and you cut yourself with a yelp when he picks you up, moving you to his desk. He brushes everything off in one sweep, setting you down, and pounding into you as soon as he sets you down.

You cry out, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Answer this question, sweetheart," he groans in your ear, grabbing your ass to further spear you with his dick. "You like it when I fuck you like this?"

The only thing you can do is make incoherent noises, the last thing on your mind is responding, and he smacks your ass, hard. "Answer the question."

"Yes, Kei! Fuck," you gasp, your eyes closing and your body going limp when he hits that sensitive spot inside of you.

"You like teasing me, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like a bitch in heat?" Granted, you didn't really expect this outcome, but you're nowhere near complaining.

The only way you can answer is by breathless, incoherent noises in his ear, and he's moving you, pushing you down flat on your back on his desk. He pushes your legs to your chest before resuming his punishing pace.

"You wanted to be fucked by Daddy's cock like a little slut, yeah?" he spits, leaning down to breathe against your mouth, and you don't know if he can see your nod, the only thing you can do to answer him. "Daddy's fucking you good, isn't he?" he asks, a shit-eating grin on his face knowing that he's rendering you speechless.

He reaches down to press down hard on your clit, making you jump as you dig your nails in his arm. "You gotta answer, or I'll stop," he threatens, thrusting his hips with a little more force to really nail your g-spot.

"Y-Yes, Daddy, s-so good," you moan, and he swears when you clamp around him, your climax nearing its peak.

He rests his elbows on the desk to give him more leverage, and that pushes your legs further into your chest, the air seeming to slip out of your chest. "Shit," he moans, savoring the feeling of you sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

"God, Kei, 'm close," you barely manage to say, and he closes the minimal distance between your lips, and you can barely kiss him back. He pulls your lip between his teeth when he pulls away.

"Then cum, sweetheart, cum," he breathes, and his body is tensing up as he spills inside you, but he keeps moving until you cum right after him, riding out both of your highs before slowing to a stop.

He moves his arms so that your legs fall, and you take in a huge gulp of air before your breathing quickly again. He puts his arms back beside your head before kissing you deeply, your hands brushing the hair plastered to his forehead.

"You know, I think I need some help with calc if you wouldn't mind?" he says, and you chuckle breathlessly.

"I wouldn't mind at all."

[comfortwriting]

A Triwizard Baby Part 3 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Part 3 of my 'Triwizard Baby' mini-series, please read Parts 1 and 2 if you haven't already. Want to be tagged? Let me know!

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of smut/light smut.

After that night, Fred dreamt of you more often, and the pain inside of him spread throughout his body, his twin looked at him differently, everyone in Hogwarts looked at him differently now - how could they not? He knocked you up and toyed with your feelings, breaking your heart.

You couldn't believe how fast the months went by as your bump grew in size and your pregnancy journey progressed now reaching halfway through seven months pregnant; being in your third trimester made you incredibly tired, sore, moody, and irritable, and with the final task of the Triwizard Tournament one week away, you felt nervous and slightly on edge.

"What have you decided?" Your mother smiled at you, pulling your hand in hers.

You smiled and stared at your bump, your hand resting on it, you looked up at your mum "I'm keeping it, I want this baby, I want to raise them."

Madame Pomfrey sat across the room, smiling at you, putting together your delivery bag, which was empty - aside from a pack of nappies and one baby bottle.

"Do you need a top-up of your potion?" she asked, nodding to your bump.

Shaking your head you smiled "No, everyone will know soon enough."

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N." Your mother smiled and squeezed your hand "You won't be going through this alone." she reassured you.

You nodded your head, thanking your mum and pulling her into a hug.

"I had you very young" she sighed "I'll make sure that you won't struggle like me and your father did."

"Now," Madame Pomfrey sighed "We need to make a plan for the birth."

Sitting on your bed in your pyjamas, stroking your bump whilst catching up on the classwork you had missed due to constantly being tired and sick, your friends talked amongst themselves, the bedroom now warm and cosy.

"I think it's amazing that you're keeping the baby!" Katie beamed from across the room, flashing you a smile "When we get out of here, we can all move in together and help you raise the baby."

Your heart warmed at the idea and a smile formed on your face, knowing that you had supportive friends helped numb the pain of Fred's absence when you no longer passing in the halls or sharing a class together.

"Really?" you looked up, smiling at your friends, putting down your quill and rolling up your parchment.

"Of course," Angelina smiled "It's what friends are for, and we'll obviously need a strong quidditch player in your family!"

Your heart instantly lost its warmth and started to fall victim to the freezing cold.

but my baby does have a strong quidditch player in the family, their dad is one of the most amazing beaters Gryffindor has ever seen...

"We'll be living in a big house, we'll have our dream jobs, and we'll be helping you raise your baby." Angelina smiled "The world is your oyster!"

Fred waited for his brother to laugh at his joke, but he didn't, which had become a regular occurrence after George found out the truth - and when Fred got with his crush, but it wasn't just George who brushed Fred aside, and he couldn't pretend to not notice anymore.

"Shall we get started on planning our business then, Georgie?" Fred asked eagerly, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

George shook his head, a plain expression on his face "No, I can't actually, I've uh.. got plans." he slowly got out of his chair, and walked away from his brother, hoping Fred would be too tired to care.

"Plans?" Fred asked, following him "Without me?"

George stared at his twin, he hated him right now.

"Yeah, without you." George walked away, cursing under his breath.

'If mum and dad knew, they would be so ashamed' George thought, starting to think of what clothes the baby would need, the clothes that his brother couldn't provide.

Fred rolled his eyes and puffed out his chest, the pain of his best friend hating him, and the other avoiding him, started to chip away at his ego. He didn't want to plan the business alone, and he couldn't plan it with anyone else. Fred couldn't handle being lonely when he wanted company, so he searched for Angelina, finally catching up to her on the Quidditch pitch.

"Oi!" he called out, panting, out of breath from running "Angelina, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this afternoon?"

Angelina stared at Fred, clearly uninterested and more excited about something else.

"Sorry Fred, I can't."

Fred sighed, 'why is everyone avoiding me?'

"Why?" he asked, frowning "You're always free on weekends."

"I've got plans!" Angelina smiled, unable to hold her emotions back, the bottle lid slowly starting to tremble as the liquid inside bubbled up.

"What's going on?" Fred asked again, slightly puzzled as he had never seen her so excited.

"You don't know?!" Angelina gasped "Me, George, and the girls are planning a surprise baby shower for Y/N!" she beamed.

Fred's heart dropped, his heartbeat thumped in his ears, a lump formed in his throat.

baby shower... for Y/N... and George is involved...

Angelina continued to ramble on excitedly, Fred couldn't pay attention, he felt sick, the quidditch pitch wouldn't stop spinning.

How could she be pregnant - do I... do I know the guy? She never told me...

"She's in her third trimester already and she doesn't have a single thing for the baby! Can you believe that? Poor girl!"

George. He's done this. He's been seeing her behind my back.

Fred remembered how you and George got close just before the second tournament, when began to you avoided him and constantly turned him down, spending more time with his twin who was a stranger just months earlier.

"No..." Fred mumbled, "I can't."

"Well, I better get going, baby shopping and all!"

Fred nodded and parted from Angelina, he bunched his hands into fists, tears formed in his beautiful eyes, storming back into Hogwarts he looked everywhere for you, finally finding you in the dim and surprisingly empty library. He couldn't believe his eyes, you were sitting back in your chair, flicking through your charms textbook, your bump huge and the empty potion bottle sitting on the table, staring at Fred, calling him closer.

She's pregnant and she couldn't even tell me.

Looking up, your eyes landed on Fred, your heart skipping a beat, your stomach doing little flips as the father of your child walked up to you, his eyes fixated on your bump.

"So it's true" his voice croaked "you are pregnant."

You swallowed hard, you wanted to tell him the truth, right here, right now - but you couldn't, the damage has already been done, you couldn't get attached to a man who couldn't settle for you, for now, you have a piece of him - and that's enough for you.

"Yeah" you replied "It's uh, scary."

George held the long roll of parchment in his hands, going through the long list whilst Angelina, Katie, Lee, and Matt searched the shops, turning them inside out to find your stuff.

"We've got enough bottles, nappies, and clothes." Lee smiled, picking up the tiniest pair of newborn socks with tiny broomstick patterns on them.

"You can cross the crib off your list too" Matt walked over, carrying a white crib in his arms, covered in astrology symbols "Think this one will do?"

George examined the crib closely and smiled at the thought of his niece or nephew sleeping through the night with a blanket and soft toy beside them.

"It's perfect." George smiled "Y/N will love it."

The more you and Fred spoke in the library, the more you realised just how much you needed him, and how hard bringing up this baby without him would be, the urge to come clean getting stronger and stronger, but you kept quiet. You couldn't put such a burden on your best friend who couldn't possibly entertain the idea of having a child so early on in his life, after all, he had been the reason why many girls before you were in the hospital wing according to Madame Pomfrey. How many other girls struggled to tell him? Did they even go through with the pregnancy? You didn't know.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Fred asked softly, now sitting on the table, closing your charms book.

because you're my best friend and the baby inside of me is yours, you can't even remember what happened that night.

"I-I don't know" you sighed "I got scared, I thought you'd hate me."

"Why would I hate you? Y/N you're my best friend!"

Exactly, I'm not your girlfriend, I'm just your friend.

"My best friend is having a baby and I didn't even know!" Fred laughed, shaking his head, staring at your bump again.

Your baby, oh Freddie... if only you knew.

"Yeah..." you laughed it off "Sorry about that."

"Can you at least tell me who the father is?" Fred asked, swallowing hard, unsure whether or not he actually wanted to know.

It's you, Freddie, it's you...

"I can" you replied, "but I won't."

Fred tutted "Can you at least give me a clue?"

You sighed and nodded a clue won't hurt, "Okay, shoot."

"Do I know him?" Fred asked, getting heart palpitations.

"Yes," you replied "You know him really well."

"Is he my best friend or classmate, or something?" Fred asked quickly, his mouth going dry, his heart thumping, his ears burning, his heartbreaking into pieces.

"A bit of both" you replied.

Seeing Fred get so choked up and upset made you feel guilty. Why couldn't you just tell him? Spit it out and act as if worse things have happened between the both of you.

"Does..." Fred tried to swallow the enlarged lump in his throat "Does he know?"

Give it up, Y/N, stop playing with him, just tell him the truth.

You nodded your head "he knows I'm pregnant" you paused "but he doesn't know it's his."

"Is George the dad?" Fred asked.

You wanted to laugh, at times you wished the dad was George, but the two of them were so different, and you always preferred Fred.

"What makes you think that?" You asked, crossing your arms, staring into Fred's dull brown eyes.

Fred sighed "He knows you're pregnant but he never mentioned it to me, if he knew that baby was his... he would've told me, Y/N." He paused "The two of you got close just before you drifted from me."

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, if only I could tell you, make you understand.

"Well," you sighed, torturing yourself even more "I'm still not telling you."

"I wish you would," Fred mumbled, "because I would do anything to be him right now."

Your heart dropped again, sinking deeper into your tummy like an anchor into the ocean.

He wishes he was the dad... that must mean... he can't be? can he...

Fred leaned over to you, his gentle hand resting on your cheek, his thumb tracing circles into your skin, your scents engulfing one another, his nose brushing up against yours, and finally, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, his lips connected with yours.

Fireworks erupted between your lips, sparks flying in every direction, the feeling of him spooning you in bed after hooking up filled your head, your heart craving the intimacy that got you into this muddle in the first place.

Fred pulled away for a moment, pursing his lips and licking them, your cheeks went red, the two of you silent, staring at one another until your lips collided once more until Fred's lips attacked your neck, and the two of you exposed yourselves to one another.

This wasn't like the night you both shared together for the first time - for starters, the two of you were sober, and instead of being fueled by lust, love had taken over, steering the wheel and controlling the wand, the father of your baby now making love to you, showing you his vulnerabilities - allowing you to look through the window of his soul.

Fred's hands, fingers, mouth, his sex, all felt so incredible, making you feel above the clouds, loved and cared for, you didn't want him to pull out, to get dressed and disappear again, you wanted to be with him, forever.

Pulling out and quickly getting dressed, wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead, Fred helped you put on your shirt and jeans, before his hand rested on your bump, his eyes focusing on it, pouring his heart and soul into the image of him being the father of that baby, something he wanted more than anything.

"I wish they were mine." Fred croaked, picking up his bag and leaving the library.

Guilt, pain, and regret flowed through your bloodstream, you felt queasy, your face went hot and tears pooled into your eyes, your vision going glassy, grabbing your book, you swallowed down the lump in your throat and left the library, running to your dorm room, collapsing on the bed, torn up to shreds.

"I'm so glad we've managed to get Y/N what she needed." Angelina smiled, carrying the shopping full of baby clothes, shoes, and toys.

"Me too" George smiled, unsure of what else to say, his mind constantly thinking about you and Fred.

Angelina could sense the tension, George wasn't usually this quiet in her company "Everything alright, George?" she asked "Is Fred okay too? He seemed a little upset earlier."

"Why do you ask?" George replied, growing concerned for his twin, thinking that perhaps staying to plan the business would have been the better option.

Angelina stared at her shoes "He just didn't seem so thrilled when I told him about the party-"

"You told him?!"

Shit! If he knows... does Angelina know he's the dad? Was she the one who told him?

"Well yeah?" Angelina replied, "He's her best friend, isn't he invited?"

Brilliant, this is just brilliant.

"No! He wasn't even aware she's pregnant!"

"George I'm sorry, I just assumed... why hasn't she told him?"

George paused, this wasn't his secret to spill, but he decided to do it anyway.

George pulled Angelina aside the footpath, sighing and taking a deep breath "because he's the father, and Y/N doesn't want him to know."

Angelina and George sprinted back to the castle, the feeling in George's stomach grew too strong to ignore and he knew that if he didn't speak to his brother, everything would fall apart. Angelina needed to find you, to tell you the mistake she made and promise to fix things, her heart racing, feeling guilty for any trouble she might have caused.

Angelina burst into the dorm room, you wiped away your tears and sat up in your bed, clutching onto your jumper.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell me what?"

"That Fred is the dad!"

You buried your head in your hands, pressing your palms against your closed eyes "because" you mumbled into them "I know you and Katie both fancy him, I didn't want our friendship to be ruined over him knocking me up."

Angelina sat on your bed next to you, wrapping her arm around you "Don't be silly, Y/N. Katie only had a tiny crush on him which is long gone, and I prefer George." she smiled.

You looked up at her and smiled back, blinking away the stars in your vision.

"You're the one who got Y/N knocked up then" Fred glared at his brother "The baby is yours, thought you deserved to know!"

George scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head, gritting his teeth "Freddie, don't be stupid mate-"

"How could you do this to me?!" Fred yelled "To her!" Fred grabbed his trunk, packing away his clothes and books.

George stayed silent, staring at his broken brother, trying to speak but unable to find the words.

"You fucked the girl of my dreams behind my back, you've gotten her pregnant and I have to live with that!" Fred yelled again, slamming his trunk shut, now carrying it.

"Fred-"

"Fuck off, George!"Fred snapped "I can't trust you anymore."

Fred stormed out of the dorm room, out of the common room and down the halls, his throat sore, his eyes tear-filled, focussing on a safe place to rest his head. In front of him, a door enlarges from the bricks out of nowhere, he opened the door and walked inside, slamming the door behind him as he hid away in the room of requirement.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @horrorxweasley @alwaysnforeverfangirl @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx @manuosorioh @cosmiccomicloverqueen @the-romanian-is-bae @fhhsposts @cavalinhox @purple-vodka-99 @simpforweasleys2 @dracoismybabey @statellitespidey @xuminghaosworld @michael-loves-chickens

[theleftovertaco]

You Were Maid For This

There is an increasing amount of boys on tiktok in maid costumes, and when someone dressed up as Malfoy in a maid outfit, I had to write this (if you want the video just send an ask and I’ll send you the link). Here we have Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco. Just a heads up, some of the details are purposefully vague so that the reader can be interpreted as being from any house, in any year, and of any gender, if i trip up or you think there is a way i could improve, please let me know since i finally have asks and submissions enabled

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Whoever decided this was a good idea.... was absolutely fucking correct

It was you, you decided it was a good idea

You darted into the great hall, sat down, and told Colin Creevey to set up his camera and to not be a snitch, and then you waited.

Fred and George came first, and to an onslaught of laughter and a little bit of applause.

Because low and behold, they came in wearing matching maid outfits. 

Pink. Frilly. Fucking. Maid. Outfits.

“We wanna know”, George said as he plopped down on your right, “who thought it would be funny to take all our clothes in the middle of the night and leave us with only THESE!” You stifled laughter by shoving a piece of scrambled egg in your mouth.

Fred tilted his head your way from the other side of you. “You think this is funny, do you love?”

“I find it to be the purest form of comedy.”

“Ugh” came the simultaneous replies, “This has to the fluffiest thing I have ever worn.”

“I don’t know”, laughed Harry, “the cat ears just bring out your eyes so well!”

He got identical middle fingers in response.

“Maybe you should just work with it, not against it” , Hermione interjected her two sickles into the conversation, “try to rock it.”

“Rock it?” They both titled their heads a little to the left.

“It’s a muggle expression, when a person tries to make a style work even if they’re not fond of it.”

“Ah.” Came the reply from your left.

“Maybe we should try to, uhh, rock it.”

You giggled and turned to Colin, “You two have fun with that, in the meantime, would you mind taking a picture, I’d like it for blackmail material.”

“Colin, you take that picture and I smash your camera.” Fred’s threat fell on deaf ears and after the image was pointed out on Colin’s new Polaroid you took the image, fanning it as you slipped 5 knuts into the small boys hand.

In McGonagall’s class, the boys flounced into class and immediately began flirting with the other boys in class.

“Weasley and Weasley, sit down before I turn the dress green!”

“Professor, that would clash with our hair.” A stern look silenced George pretty quick and they both sat down, though after they did McGonagall had to turn around to hide a smile.

Professor Sprout let out a booming laugh when they entered greenhouse four and simply shooed them to their stations. The Dittany plants they had planted into the plant beds saw that the white of their costumes were freckled with brown, but a quick scourgify from Sprout and they were good as new.

She sent them on their way with a comment that they, “look adorable!”

Flitwick couldn’t say much, he fell off his book stack laughing when they walked in and stayed on the floor for half and hour.

Charms class was excused for the rest of the day since their professor couldn’t calm down.

They reconvened with you for study hall in the courtyard looking a little too pleased with themselves.

“I take it people liked them?” You shouted across the yard.

“Yeah, Flitwick couldn��t stay on his stack.” Fred grinned.

“Well, I really must say, you both look very pretty.” They both laughed but you didn’t miss the way their cheeks flushed at this very different compliment.

“Yes, they look very pretty, don’t they”, Malfoy sauntered across the courtyard, “It’s such a manly look for them. Very fitting, since you two are too stupid to get any job outside of being janitorial staff.”

Fred nearly growled and you and George had to pull him to sit back down on the fountain ledge. 

“Don’t worry, he’s next on the list.” You whispered. Identical mops of red hair whipped towards you.

“It was you!” came the in unison exclamations.

“Of course it was me, who else would it be!”

“Y/N!” Fred bemoaned.

“How could you betray us like this?” George was howling like he’d just been stabbed. 

“I wouldn’t call it betrayal, just a bit of fun.”

“How did you even get up to the common room?” Fred was incredulous.

“You should know by now that I know how to get past those charms.”

“Ok, we’ll admit that was pretty funny.” George replied.

“Thank you, I try. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“Of course. So, where are our clothes?”

“You’ll get them back when I’m finished with the prank. Bye you two.”

You got identical “NOOOOO”s as you left the courtyard.

2 down. 4 to go. 

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                         “Creevey! Same drill as yesterday.” Colin nodded and whipped out his camera to get it ready.

“You might wanna hide for this one, I doubt Malfoy would appreciate you taking his picture in this state.” He promptly ducked under the table until just the lens peeked out above the table. 

Draco stomped into the Great Hall, sat over at the Slytherin table, and huffed as most of Gryffindor let out thunderous laughter. 

“Whoever did this will be on the very unpleasant end of an unforgivable when I find them!” You could barely hear him above the giggles. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I know I did not just hear a threat from you?” McGonagall walked past the table and let out an affronted sound.

“Er-...of course not professor.” She hmphed and walked off.

“I don’t know Malfoy, maybe this could be good for you. This is what you get for making fun of the twins.” Fred and George nodded next to you, still in their outfits from the other day.

“Shut it, Y/Ln. If this was you I swear to Merlin.”

“I will admit to no such thing.”

Draco, unlike the twins, very much did not rock the maid outfit. Flitwick had finally gotten over his laughter and could teach as normal, but Professor Sinestra couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when a very grumpy Malfoy stepped up the astronomy tower with a few Gryffindor students trailing after him, making some rather inappropriate jokes about his backside.

Snape merely grumbled that his costume better not interfere with the lesson and moved on.

“Ok.” Malfoy finally sat down at your table in the library, “I concede, now please give me my clothes back.” 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You said with a sinister grin. 

“Y/Ln!!!!” he groaned. 

“It's not that big of a deal. So you wear a dress. Guys can wear dresses.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to!” he yelled, before being shushed by Pince. 

“You know”, you began to speculate, “I think you’re arguing to deflect because you don’t want to admit that you actually like wearing a dress, even if it’s just a little bit.”

There was only silence in return and you smirked.

“You get your clothes back when I’m done with my prank.”

“Thank you. One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you change my outfit to be green? Pink is not my color.” 

“I disagree, but fine.”

Halfway done. 

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By day three, many of the boys at Hogwarts held the mild fear that they would be next to have their clothing swapped. 

Creevey had also picked up on the drill at this point.

Ron and Harry were next. 

You knew Harry would at least try to be a good sport. Ron, on the other hand, was a bit more of a wild card and you were a little nervous for his reaction.

“What. The. FUCK!” He whisper shouted when he got to Breakfast, slamming his hands down on the table. Harry chuckled and sat down next to him.

“So we were the next victims, hm.” Fred and George must have told Harry it was you, since he looked you way and playfully glared and stuck his tongue out at you, which you happily returned.

“Mature, Y/N.”

“You started it- wait no, ok now I hear it.”

“I swear to Godric Colin if you take my picture in this I will end you.” Ron snapped as the kid squeaked and ducked down, but the click of the lens appeared nonetheless. 

Harry and Ron went about their classes trying to attract as little attention as possible. Flitwick was used to the skirts at this point and merely smirked and asked the boys to sit down while commenting they should be careful with the lace collar since it was delicate.

During quidditch practice, Harry and the Twins did have a bit of trouble flying with the dress, since some of the other players and onlookers made comments from below. 

“Oi! Stop peeking!” Fred shouted at a third year girl who giggled and scurried off.

Professor Trelawney stared at the two before claiming that the fates told her to advise them to wear a blue dress the next time. 

“Harry told me it was you.” Ron huffed as he slumped down in the grass by the lake near you. Harry sat down shortly after.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Honestly, I think you look cute in it.” Ron blushed at the compliment but didn’t say anything more. 

“I’m guessing we won’t be getting our clothes back for a while?”

“You’re catching on. Only one more day. The last person is tomorrow and then you get your Friday off from wearing it.”

“Oh thank Merlin.” You heard Ron sigh in relief.

1 more person left.

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If we’re being honest you were most worried about Neville. That’s why you wanted him last, so he would only have to deal with it for a day in case it backfired. Also so that Malfoy couldn’t say anything because he would also be wearing his.

Neville kinda just shuffled into the Great Hall, and then darted over to the table where he wolfed down his beans on toast before rushing back out to hide until his next class.

“Neville!” Harry and Ron ran after him, dresses jumping back and forth as they left.

It was doubtful you woulf see anything from them directly, you didn’t share any classes with Neville on thursdays.

Ron and Harry would have to catch you up afterwards.

You met back up with them at dinner.

“You ok, Neville?” He offered a sheepish smile and nodded.

“Harry and Ron said I’d be ok and that no one else could really say anything.”

“Snape just said not to be ‘any more of a nuisance than usual’”, Harry interrupted with a shitty impression, “ Binns was too interested in his fucking textbook to make a comment, McGonagall called the three of us ‘adorable’ and Dean and Seamus keep playing with our ears!” He batted away Seamus’ hand for what probably was the 40th time that day.

“Well, Neville, what did you think?” Eyes turned towards him and he blushed bright red.

“I”, he paused for a second, “it was fun, I guess. It was kind of funny seeing Malfoy in them.”

There was a slight pause, and then.

“I guess I’d do it again. Not the outfit but the dress or skirt. Maybe even the headband. Just not as fuzzy.” Neville looked down and kinda whispered the last part.

“I would too.” Ron, surprisingly was the next to admit it and from there came a round of agreements at Gryffindor table.

“Well if we’re being honest I think that George and I did indeed rock it.” Fred said as he dug into his pot roast

“That you did. If you lot want, we could go to a shop next Hogsmeade weekend, take a look around for some other skirts?”

You got a round of “yes”s and the conversation turned elsewhere.

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“Hey,” Malfoy dropped into the seat next to you during study hall, “ how are you.”

You squinted at him.

“Fine? Why are you being so weird? You’re never nice.”

“Er, well, I mean I was hoping...that maybe... perhaps...”

“Spit it out Malfoy!”

“Could you take me to get a skirt?”

What?

“It’s just, after the first day, I kinda liked the skirt.”

You glared at him for a second.

“Yeah, ok, meet me at Hogsmeade entrance next month and we’ll go. Everyone else is going so play nice.”

He thanked you and left quickly.

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“Well, you all look beautiful if I do say so myself.” You said as they each stepped out of the changing room wearing their skirts. Fred and George twirled around, Harry and Ron did a little dance, Neville jumped around a little bit, and Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot.’

“Well thank you love.” Fred skipped over to you in a plaid circle skirt, “I will say I prefer this skirt to the poofy one in the maid outfit.”

“You like the skirt, huh? You could even say you were maid for it.” You offered with a sly grin

“Why are you like this?”

“Nooo!”

“Shittiest pun ever.”

“Whyyyyy!”

“Please never speak again.”

“I literally hate you right now.”

Well, you win some, you lose some.

Tag list:

@omg-imatotalmess

[pluviophile-imagines]

3 for bakugo or todoroki

I decided to do Bakugo for this, & then I got this ask after I closed the prompts for this event so I decided to go ahead and do it because it’s actually one of only two Halloween-related ones and I was planning to make this Werewolf!Bakugo anyway lol. This is a fun little AU that just kinda swaps quirks for supernatural creatures, loosely based off of a bunch of campy halloween stuff like Halloweentown and Sabrina The Teenage Witch. Also, the werewolves have destined mates like those dumb Wattpad novels, because sometimes tropes are fun and cute. Also this is THREE TIMES AS LONG AS I MEANT TO MAKE ALL OF THESE but ive also gotten like five??? individual asks for it 😭😭😭so y’all better not let it flop.

3: kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

Though you’ve known Bakugo pretty much your whole life, there’s a lot about werewolves that you don’t know.

If he were a different person, he probably wouldn’t be telling you at 5:47 on his 21st birthday that he’s apparently supposed to figure out who his soulmate is going to be tonight. If he weren’t so closed off, even to his best friend of over a decade and a half, then perhaps you wouldn’t be having this conversation, and perhaps it wouldn’t feel quite like pulling teeth.

“You have a soulmate?” is really all you can say, because most of your mental capacity is going towards keeping the sob in the back of your throat from being audible.

“Yeah,” he grunts. He’s not even looking at you, because he’s holding his phone in one hand and he’s scrolling through it, and though the two of you are sitting on opposite sides of the couch he has your feet in his lap, free arm wrapped all the way around them like he doesn’t want you to leave. “It’s… I dunno. Kinda cool, I guess.”

“All of you have soulmates?”

“Well, yeah. You witches don’t?”

You wrinkle your nose, trying your hardest to ignore the burning at the backs of your eyes. “No. We don’t.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see him purse his lips, as if troubled by the revelation. “Huh. How d’you know who’s the one, then?”

“We just. Figure it out? I guess. Is this why you’ve never dated anyone?”

“Yeah. Not really interested in anyone but my destined.”

He says it so easily, but you know him well enough to understand. He likes the idea of a soulmate; he’s looking forward to figuring out who they are tonight. Who would have guessed that he was a romantic?

It’s awful. It makes your chest burn. You’d only come to terms with your crush on the guy two months ago. Now he’s gonna be taken from you by some random person he’s never met?

No, you suppose, he’s always belonged to them. That’s how it works, right?

“D’you know who it’ll be?”

“Hah? No, dumbass, if I did that would defeat the purpose.” Bakugo pauses, glancing over at you with just his eyes, then darting them away just as fast. It’s probably just a trick of the light, but you could swear he blushes a little as he mumbles, “I know who I want it to be, though.”

Your eyes widen and you lean up, pulling your legs back (ignoring the way his hands tense before letting them go as if he wants to hold on) so that you can kneel on them right next to him. “Who?”

“Not happening.”

“Bakugo,” you whine, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“I’m not telling you, brat.”

You lean forward, prodding at his cheek. “Is it Mina?”

“No.”

“Jirou?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Kirishima?”

Bakugo growls out your name, a warning, but you don’t pull away, getting even closer until you’re practically draped over him.

“Todoroki?”

He grabs you, whipping towards you as his arms fly up to wrap around your waist and yank you off him, tossing you back to your side of the couch as you shriek in laughter. He’d never hurt you, you know, and roughhousing like this is hardly new in your friendship; plus, well, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been hoping to feel his big, warm hands like this. Despite all his surprises tonight, he’s still all too predictable, and you’d seen this coming a mile away.

What you don’t see coming is him pausing, braced with one arm against the couch all too close to you, holding his torso over you with his head right above yours. And he stares, those crimson eyes unreadable with an expression you’ve never seen before, locked entirely on you.

You can feel his chest rising and falling steadily against yours, and your own eyes are drawn to where his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. You’re frozen, unable to move though you’d hardly want to anyway, and it hits you like a brick what he’s really been saying the whole night.

You open your mouth to speak, but then the hazy tension is shattered by the shrill sound of his phone.

Bakugo lunges away, pulls back with inhuman werewolf speed, grabbing his phone as he leaps to his feet. “‘S my mom, sundown’s soon, I have to go.”

“Wait, Bakugo—”

“See ya tomorrow, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already half out the door.

“Katsuki,” you try, desperate, and it makes him freeze.

The door is open, his knuckles are pale with how tight he’s gripping the knob, but as much as you’ve tried it’s not enough. He’s gone without another word.

You don’t get to sleep that night.

It’s dumb; he’ll lecture you in the morning as he tells you all about his perfect amazing werewolf destined—that was what he’d called it, right? You prefer soulmate. Mate is a wolf thing anyway—who he’s spending all night with, running around in the forest howling at the moon and making out or whatever.

You stay out in the den, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped around you, ice cream in your lap, and an old movie playing that you’re not really listening to because you’ve been too wrapped up in your own head.

For an instant, you’d been so sure. A mere moment of absolute certainty that he was just as in love with you as you are him, that your oblivious pining for years was actually reciprocated. In the hours since he’d pinned you to the couch, you’d convinced yourself otherwise.

Imagine your surprise when there’s a frantic knocking at your door.

It startles you, making you jump about ten feet up in the air, and you freeze on the couch with wide eyes and a gaping mouth staring directly at the solid wood that seems to be shaking in its hinges. You’re halfway to casting a protection charm when a familiar gruff voice shouts your name from outside.

“I know you’re awake, I can hear you in there! Open the damn door!”

You glance at the time to find that it’s just under fifteen minutes to midnight. Awfully soon for him to be done, but you rise from your spot on the couch with the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders and move to let Bakugo in.

“Coming,” you say, not bothering to be loud because you know he can hear even the shifting of your clothes beneath the blanket.

He looks downright feral when you open the door, panting slightly, hair mussed up, eyes wild. But when he sees you, they light up, happy and excited like a damn puppy.

“Are you drunk?”

“Uh… kinda?”

“...Magical bullshit?”

He nods, a rough toss of his head to affirm. “Ancient rituals. Tipsy’s more accurate, if anything. Figured out who my destined is.”

“And you came to me? Shouldn’t you be with your soulmate, then?”

Bakugo blinks, clearly stunned, barking out a burst of laughter before shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ dumbass.”

You go to respond, more than a little insulted because he’s been acting so fucking weird all day and he has the nerve to say you’re being dumb, but any retort is flung from your mind as he steps forward and puts his hands on your arms.

Leaning in until your noses are practically touching, he speaks. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“H—huh?” you stutter out, heart stopping and mind reeling with his words.

“I wanted it to be you. And it’s you.” His hands slide down your arms to meet yours. “You’re my destined.”

There’s so much more to say, so much to ask him, everything ranging from but I’m a witch, how is that possible to so we could have been fucking dating this whole time but he doesn’t let you speak, clearly too overjoyed and inebriated, and you’re not entirely opposed when he yanks you in with exactly the level of roughness you’d imagine from him and kisses you.

And finally, finally, after a decade and a half of wanting to (longer than you even knew what kissing was), you can melt into him.

You believe him then, not that you particularly doubted. It’s like his lips are the missing piece to a puzzle, one you’ve been looking for your whole life. He holds you up with ease, werewolf strength coming in handy, as one hand laces with your own and the other darts to the small of your back. He’d be holding you closer, but you’re literally as close as you could be, body curving against him as his taller form hunches over you.

He kisses you far more sweetly than you’d have expected; no teeth or tongue but still all passion, heavy palm and fingers splayed across your back as the other hand pulls you and grounds you. It’s heated and it makes you forget that you’re both standing in the middle of the open front door at midnight.

You’re both reluctant to break away, you can tell because you both linger a little, bodies frozen as the kiss is followed by one, two, three more just as feverish but decreasing in length. Then the two of you pull away for real (not by much, no, he’s holding you far too intensely for you to get far) and you stumble backwards pulling him by his shirt into your home. He gets the hint, following and shutting the door behind you but not letting either of you make it very far beyond.

“All right,” you say finally, breathless both from the kiss and from giddy laughter bubbling up within you, “all right, you’re my soulmate.”

Bakugo kisses you again.

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: food, tooth-rotting fluff.

summary: a morning picnic with cedric.

a/n: requested, love this so much!

taglist: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @punkrific @cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @cedricsyellowscarf @hoe4cedricdiggory @dogsandrocketsocks @draco-and-tom @hey-there-angels @dreamy-clousds @sambucky8

pls message me to be added or removed from my taglist.

word count: 1.4k

hope you enjoy <3

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“Mh-” You sigh, slowly opening your eyes to the feeling of an arm slung over your side and a soft breathing against the back of your neck.

The sun hitting your curtains floods the muted light into your eyes in a faint glow. Blinking, a light snore sounds from behind you catches your attention, a playful smile creeps up your lips.

As slowly as you can, as not to wake him, you turn over onto your other side and shuffle yourself into place until you’re comfortable.

For a moment you hold your breath, waiting for Cedric’s eyes to flutter open, but his soft snores continue and you sigh in relief.

The morning sun hits the brunette in an angelic light, bathing him in a golden glow.

Your eyes skim down Cedric’s shoulder and arm, noticing one arm tucked under your head and one resting on your waist, you blush happily.

Using your hands, you trace your fingertips up and down Cedric’s bicep, following each muscle like a guide down his arm.

A content sigh pulls you from your thoughts and your eyes flicker upwards to his face again to find him staring down at you, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

“How long have you been awake?” You groan, burying yourself into Cedric’s chest and hiding your pink cheeks.

“Hm- not long, that feels nice though.” Cedric chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you.

“Mhm?” You giggle, running your fingers along Cedric’s bare chest in small circles.

Rolling his eyes, Cedric presses a kiss to your hairline, effectively pulling you from your spot against Cedric’s torso.

Grinning, you press a butterfly kiss to the brunette’s nose, holding back your giggles as Cedric nuzzles himself into your neck in the process.

“Good morning to you too, love.” You tease, peppering kisses along Cedric’s cheeks and hair.

“Can I go back to sleep dove?” Cedric murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your pajama shirt. “Of course, but we could make breakfast instead hm?” You suggest, tangling your hand into Cedric’s hair.

At the word breakfast, the brunette’s face snaps up, eyes widening in glee.

“Can we have waffles? The ones with chocolate chips?” Cedric pleads with puppy eyes and a light pout.

“My boyfriend and his sweet tooth.” You sigh with a soft laugh, nodding before pressing a kiss to Cedric’s forehead.

“But, you’re helping.” You smirk, shuffling out of Cedric’s arms and hopping off the side of the bed.

“Of course, M’lady!” Cedric states enthusiastically, hopping down behind you as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder, rocking you gently from side to side.

“Hey, I thought you wanted breakfast!” You giggle, poking fun at the brunette.

“I do, I do.” Cedric chuckles, pushing your forwards out the bedroom door, picking you up bridal style to carry you down the stairs.

“Cedric!”

“What? I can’t hold my princess?” Cedric pouts as he sets you on the floor again.

“I never said that!” You roll your eyes, turning and tugging Cedric into the kitchen by the arms.

“Good, because you my darling, look ever so graceful in my arms.” Cedric smirks, poking you on the nose gently and leaning forwards to catch your lips in a soft kiss.

“Morning breath Ced, y’haven’t even brushed your teeth yet!” You sigh, pretending to be disgusted.

“Oh haha.” Cedric scoffs sarcastically, walking away to grab a bowl from the cabinet to mix your batter. You giggle and retrieve your muggle waffle iron, and just like always Cedric stares in amazement at the small contraption in your hands.

“Cedric you’ve seen me use this a hundred times, what’s with the face?” You smirk.

“Muggles truly are genius, a contraption that makes little cakes, spectacular!” Cedric grins eagerly.

“You sound just like my father when he watches my mother cook.” You giggle, gathering your ingredients.

“I say that sounds like a compliment.” Cedric remarks, grabbing a whisk and some chocolate chips.

“It was darling, pass me the vanilla?” You ask.

“Course love.” Cedric nods, popping a chocolate in his mouth before turning and grabbing the bottle of vanilla. “Now this is real magic here.” Cedric chuckles, lifting the bottle to his nose before handing it to you.

“Right because wands and spells weren’t enough?” You tease, measuring out a half teaspoon and adding it to the mixture.

“It’s food magic, different.” Cedric smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead and plugging the waffle iron into an outlet.

“Mhm.” You tease, adding a handful of chocolate chips before Cedric adds another with a lick of his lips.

“And to think you still eat these with maple syrup.” You tease with a smirk.

“No such thing as too sweet m’love.” Cedric states, pushing a kiss to your cheek with a loud ‘mwah.’

“Alright then…” You shrug, placing a small piece of butter onto the iron and watching it melt.

Spooning a bit of batter onto the iron, you hum to yourself as the sound of simmering hits your ears.

Cedric grabs two plates from your cabinet and begins cutting up fruit and placing them onto the plates.

“First one’s done Ced.” You smile, placing the first waffle onto a plate and spooning more batter in.

“Do you want blueberries, love?” Cedric asks, grabbing a container of the fruit from your fridge.

“Yeah, strawberries too please.” You smile, placing another waffle onto the plate.

“Want me to set up outside?” Cedric asks, jabbing his thumb towards the exit to your backyard.

“Mhm.” You nod, placing the last of the waffles onto the second plate. “I’m gonna get dressed, want me to grab you a shirt Ced?” You ask, unplugging the waffle iron and walking towards the stairs.

“Why, is this making you flustered?” Cedric teases, flexing his biceps.

“And that’s a yes, I’ll be down in a second, love.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

Cedric smirks, grabbing syrup and a blanket off your living room couch and exiting the back door.

You change out of your pajamas into a light sundress and grab a t-shirt for Cedric before running back downstairs and grabbing your breakfast, careful not to drop anything as you walk yourself outside.

The summer breeze hits you like a warm embrace and you pause for a moment to breathe it all in, relishing in the comfort before it all ended.

“Are you coming over darling, or just gonna stand there looking pretty?” Cedric calls.

There it was. You smirk.

“I’m coming, your majesty.” You laugh, crossing the field barefoot and setting the plates down on the blanket, toss the shirt on Cedric’s head and sit down.

Cedric throws on the t-shirt and wastes no time picking up a waffle and shoving it into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Didn’t even drown your waffles in syrup yet Cedric, you okay?” You snicker, pushing him gently.

“I- Hun-gy.” Cedric says incoherently in between bites of breakfast.

“Don’t talk while you��re chewing Ced, can’t understand.” You huff, taking a bite of your waffle.

“Said I’m hungry love.” Cedric explains after swallowing his bite.

You nod and pop a strawberry in your mouth, chewing slowly and admiring the sweet flavour.

Cedric opens his mouth expectantly and you roll your eyes and place a strawberry in his mouth. Cedric closes his mouth around the fruit, but cocks his eyebrow flirtingly.

“Seriously Cedric?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Come on, please?” The brunette laughs leaning closer to you.

“You just love being a romantic don’t you?” You smirk, placing your finger on Cedric’s chin and meeting him halfway.

Cedric retracts the strawberry into his teeth and pulls you closer to him by placing his hand on the back of your head. You smile into the kiss and tilt your chin, letting him deepen the kiss and blushing deeply as the taste of strawberries flood your tongue.

“Really Ced?” You laugh, pulling back a bit, resting your foreheads together

“You know you love it M’darling.” Cedric sighs.

“I do love you.” You shrug, picking up a waffle and holding it up to Cedric’s mouth.

“I love you more.” Cedric chuckles, taking a bite and smirking playfully.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the blanket and relax your feet into the short grass.

Cedric smiles and pops another bite of the waffle into his mouth before moving the plates aside and laying his head on your lap.

Your hand instinctively moves to his hair and begins to get tangled in his tousled curls, Cedric hums in content and lifts his hand to your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful you know that?” Cedric flirts, blowing a kiss up to you.

“How charming, but sorry I have a boyfriend.” You smirk.

“He’s a lucky guy.” Cedric sighs, pulling your chin down to him.

“Well.” You smile, allowing him to connect your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I’d say I’m luckier.”

[hiinnys]

i buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavender)

(hello! it’s been a minute! sorry, i’ve unfortunately been trapped under work’s capitalist foot!! but how are yall? MAJOR happy birthday to harry james! thank you for being my comfort character <3 anyways, hope you enjoy harry’s little 22nd party, which is also on ao3!) 

the planning starts in may. it’s nearly three months early, but may brings bad memories molly’s always tried to avoid. it’s a simple question about cake flavors pointed at harry and ginny, their birthdays always planned in tandem, but harry freezes nonetheless. it’s nothing anyone would notice, but ginny does because she’s ginny and harry’s always been what she’s good at. so when they’re alone later and she asks about it, he’s not surprised.

“it’s stupid,” he says, shaking his head in that way he does that makes him seem so small ginny’s heart aches.

“harry,” she pushes this one, feels like she has to.  

“it’s just…i’m twenty-two this year, aren’t i?”

“yeah?”

“i’m always gonna be older than them now,” he almost whispers, like it’s a crime to even speak aloud. he sits down on the bed just then. the bed in his flat that he’s been too scared to ask her to share with him. he wonders briefly if his dad was ever as scared to ask his mum something so easy; wonders if his dad ever got the chance to be, or if that was just another thing war took away from him.

“harry,” she sits next to him, body angled towards him so her legs are pushed up against his side. “talk to me.”

it’s a simple request; ginny’s like that, takes only the smallest pieces of him because she thinks everyone else takes too much. he wants to tell her that she can take as much as she wants, it’s all hers anyways, but he doesn’t know how, so he settles for giving her what she’s asked of him.

“it feels…wrong, i guess, to celebrate it,” he sighs, tries to quell the storm in his chest, in his head (doesn’t succeed). “it feels like i’m celebrating their deaths.”

she’s silent for a moment, like she’s thinking it all through, weighing the merits of what he’s said, and he can’t quite express how grateful he is that she gives him this - her respect, her thoughtfulness, her whole self, each and every time.

“i get it,” she finally says. “but you can’t live the rest of your life avoiding your birthday. i think you’ve already missed too many in your parents’ books.”

he knows she’s right, thinks about his years with the dursleys, about how he didn’t even know his birthday until he was five and a teacher at primary told him. he nods his head.

“but-,” he starts.

“just not this one,” she finishes. “yeah, i get it.”

the next time they’re at the burrow, ginny casually mentions that she’s actually surprised harry with a weekend trip for his birthday, seeing as he never takes time off otherwise, and if the family would like, they could do a joint cake at ginny’s birthday dinner.

***

she actually does surprise him with a trip, something that he wasn’t expecting, but she suggests they bring teddy along and harry reckons the kid’s due for a holiday. she doesn’t tell him where they’re going to start, just piles the three of them in harry’s car and tells him to drive (she’s yet to pass her driver’s test, but ginny’s one of the few people who genuinely enjoys the tube so she’s not in any rush).

it’s when they’re less than halfway there that harry realizes she has them set out for shell cottage.

“really? you thought bringing me to your brother’s place would be a nice birthday surprise?”

“first of all, you said yourself we aren’t celebrating your birthday, and, second, bill and fleur aren’t home. they’re in france, so i asked if we could borrow the place for the weekend and they said yes.”

“fair enough.”

***

teddy’s antsy for the water as soon as he sees it, so they only go as far as throwing their stuff in the sitting room before taking him down to the shoreline. he splashes happily through the calm water, and his clothes are soaked to the brim, but his laughter fills the air, so harry lets it be.

“harry!” the five year-old shouts, holding up a distinctly purple piece of coral. “look! pretty!”

“you wanna take it with you?”

“YES!” he screams, eyes wide with glee, and harry can’t help the rush of love for his godson. he exaggerates tucking the coral into his pocket when teddy hands it to him, just to affirm ted’s desire to keep it safe. when he turns around, ginny’s smiling at them from her place on a rock, jeans pushed up to her knees, feet in the water and red hair blowing in the wind, and harry finally feels peace settle into his heart.

***

the rest of the day passes rather quietly. when they finally make it in from the beach, the day catches up with teddy, leaving him exhausted and irate, so harry gives him a quick bath and settles the boy in for a small nap. when he gets back down, ginny’s changed and sits on a bar stool in the kitchen, picking at the last of the snack plate harry had made earlier in lieu of a proper lunch.

“hungry?” harry asks and, at her nod of affirmation, starts looking through the fridge to figure out what dinner can be. they sit in an easy silence for a bit, harry washing and cutting vegetables and ginny watching. over the years, he’s learned she likes to watch him cook, and though the reason for it doesn’t make too much sense to him, he likes having her there, so he’s never questioned it much.

“thank you for this,” he finally says.

“for what?”

“bringing us here. i’ve been in my head about it all too much, i think. the whole twenty-two thing. it’s nice to not have to think about it for a bit.”

she studies him for a minute, like she’s trying to look right at the core of him, so he puts down the knife he’s been using to chop the vegetables and gives her all of himself.

“you never have to thank me,” she says after a minute.

“i know.”

***

teddy “helps” harry clean up after dinner that night, which really just means that ted sits on the counter next to the kitchen sink and rattles on about something or the other while harry does the dishes. every now and then, harry blows some soap bubbles on the boy and basks in the glow of the laughter it brings out of him.

an hour later (and well past his bedtime), harry finally manages to get teddy to stay beneath the sheets, but it’s only when ginny reads him babbity rabbity twice and swears on her life that they’ll go back down to the water tomorrow that teddy settles in for the night.

“harry!” he whispers as harry’s switching off the light.

“yeah, mate,” harry stage-whispers back, his eyebrows raised for ginny’s amusement.

“happy birthday!” teddy murmurs tiredly.

“that’s tomorrow, mate.”

“still,” the boy whines.

“thanks, ted,” harry responds, gentle smile on his face.

when they finally make it into their room, harry places a quick silencing charm on the door. at ginny’s raised brow, he says, rather simply:

“for good measure.”

ginny snorts.

they’re silent as they get ready for bed, and harry lets himself sink deep into the warmth of it. they don’t get this too often, the pair of them; ginny’s spot in the harpies takes her across the world and, when harry’s not in some obscure town somewhere tracking some homicidal maniac or the other, kingsley has him on diplomatic missions across the continent. it grates at harry sometimes, how little he gets to be with his girlfriend, but ginny has games to play and championships to win and harry has people to catch and (every now and then) laws to change, and neither has any desire to stop anytime soon so they live with it. in his opinion, they’re pretty good at it. they know their limits. they carve time out for each other, always. harry makes it to all the big games, the ones she’s nervous about. ginny makes it to every stupid ceremony and the endless galas that make harry want to claw his eyes out. she keeps him going; he keeps her sane, and the rest they take as it comes, together. always together.

“harry,” her voice, light as the sun, breaks him out of his reverie. “where’d you go?”

“sorry,” he whispers back. “just in my head a bit.”

“that’s okay. it’s a nice head.”

“it’s a nice head?” he grins at her, knowing she’s caught. ginny rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face, and when she’s done feigning her annoyance, she pulls him in for a kiss. it’s calm and confident and everything that is ginny and when they fuck, they look into each other’s eyes the entire time, and he’s reminded, with each thrust, of just how much he loves her.

***

when he wakes up, the room’s dark, the spot next to him is empty, and he can hear voices coming from below. his heart clenches for a minute, a piece of the war he’ll never be able to let go of, but it eases when he sees ginny’s wand, still on the table, still next to his.

he gets out of bed silently (mentally thanking his auror training) and makes the short walk down the hallway towards the stairs when he sees teddy’s door open too. before he has the chance to panic this time, though, he hears the boy’s laugh followed by ginny’s own giggle. there’s a smile on his face now that he knows ginny would tease him about if she could see it, but he honestly can’t help it. not when he’s in this house, full of a warmth that he’s finally, blessedly, allowed to be a part of. he spots them in the kitchen, but from their angle, he knows they can’t see him. ginny’s leaning against the counter, mixing something in a rather large bowl, while teddy’s sitting on the counter next to her, weirdly, waving a strawberry in the air.

“we gotta put it in!” he whispers, in the way five year-olds do, which isn’t much of a whisper at all. “harry loves strawberries!”

“strawberries in a birthday cake? i’m afraid you may be a genius, ted,” ginny announces in a quiet voice, while harry’s eyes fill with unshed tears. he stays glued to the spot for a bit longer, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s ruining their surprise, but not being able to turn away from his family. eventually though, he does. he climbs, silently, back up the stairs and slips back into his and ginny’s bed. when he falls back asleep, it’s with the ghost of a smile on his face and a feeling he doesn’t think he’s known until this moment.

***

he’s woken up in the morning by teddy trying to pull his arm off.

“wha-”

“come on,” the boy whines. “it’s breakfast!”

at that, harry wakes up instantly, feeling the guilt wash over him at the idea of leaving teddy without food. it’s only then that he smells the coffee in the air and realizes that ginny isn’t next to him. he breathes just then, quickly realizing that teddy isn’t hungry; he just wants harry awake.

“sorry, mate,” harry smiles at him guiltily, voice a bit rough with sleep. he lets ted drag him down stairs, the boy practically bouncing the entire way down. when they get to the kitchen, he’s met with ginny - long hair in a knot atop her head, eyes still a little sleep tired - grinning around a piece of toast.

“morning,” she smiles up at him and he gives her a lopsided grin in return.

“ginny, ginny, ginny,” teddy bounces next to her. “we’ve gotta do it now!” he whispers.

“we should probably let him eat first,” ginny whispers back.

“no! we gotta do it now!”

“alright, alright,” she responds. “harry,” she gestures to a seat, which harry takes, brows furrowed though he thinks he knows what’s coming. sure enough, ginny and teddy disappear for a few seconds, then come back with a slightly lopsided cake adorned in strawberries, a single candle lit in the middle. he beams the minute he sees them, which turns into an all out laugh the minute teddy starts up his rendition of ‘happy birthday’ which usually involves a lot of lyrics that never stay the same and none of them ever know. when ted’s done, ginny tells him to make a wish and harry asks teddy for help blowing out the candle.

they skip actual breakfast, choosing to tuck into the cake first. it’s sickly sweet and makes teddy smile from ear to ear, frosting covering his cheeks.

“like it, mate,” harry bemusedly asks. all teddy manages is a quick nod between bites, and harry knows he’ll regret letting the kid have two slices later on. but that’s later and this is right now and right now, he’s sat at a table with the two people he loves most in the world, eating a cake they made for him. right now, he’s celebrating - in his own, admittedly, small way -  a birthday his parents’ never got to. right now, he’s doing everything they wanted for themselves and him. right now (and everyday after), he’s their son, the same as he’s always been, keeping them alive with every breath he breathes, every birthday he celebrates. right now, he’s sat with the woman he loves, laughing as he watches his godson attempt to fit an entire strawberry in his mouth, so completely and ridiculously happy.

happy birthday, ginny mouths from over teddy’s head. harry smiles easily at her, love shining through his eyes, lighter than he’s ever been.

[saphirered]

Hi! I really love the stuff you've been writing for Molly!! It's so engaging and really sweet and makes me smile really wide, so thank you for that! If you're still taking requests, could I request a romantic Molly x Reader who's a druid/bard multiclass? Who has the same vibes as a Disney princess? I hope you have a great day and I can't wait to see what you write next!!

Aw shucks thank you so much ☺️. I hope this is to your liking. Enjoy 😘

The parade to draw people into the carnival was coming to an end. You were almost back at the tent and had gathered a proper crowd to watch the night’s show. Along the way you did your acrobatics and used some druidcraft to create little flowers in the palm of your hand or letting colourful floral vines bloom throughout your hair and attire. The whole look made you appear like an ethereal creature from the Feywild, perhaps even at the Seelie Court itself. 

Children giggle as you wave at them, snowflakes fall only to melt before they reach the ground. Dancing around you had fun and eventually found your ‘Fire Faerie’ friend. Together you twist and turn in a carefully practiced routine. A cloud of petals floats around you until Orna sets them ablaze, the embers blowing up in the breeze with a soft casting of Gust from you. People laugh and cheer as you both curtsied and move on your way through the crowd. 

You find Molly juggling his iridescent shimmering scimitars. Announcing your presence you dance around him just barely out of reach from the sharp blades. He nearly drops one in surprise, not expecting you to step so close but recovers quickly and it seems either no one noticed or they expected it to be part of the act. He sends you a half smile and a wink as you twist and turn around him avoiding the blades by a hair’s width humming a sweet melody. Gasps came from the people around as you narrowly avoid the scimitar from cutting through you like butter. 

You stop and take a slower pace to fall back a little bit, run and with the momentum, leap onto Molly’s shoulders in a handstand as he continued to walk. You let a couple of the flowery vines weave into his horns as he laughs and you flip over landing ahead of him. Looking over your shoulder you blow him a kiss with a wink as he continues juggling. You continue your routine with the song, the melody turning into a beautiful song people follow behind you as if you were the piped piper. Each time you take your next step you leave behind a path of colourful wildflowers. 

Toya had been feeling a bit under the weather so, you were to take over her act for the night. All dressed in flowy chiffons of greens, blues, purple and golds held together by felted vines and silk flowers, glittery exaggerated makeup, hair braided and teased you’re ready to take on your role. Your devil at your side usual clothes exchanged for dark ashen robes and features contoured in such a way to give him an even more devilishly handsome look. 

“And our next story, comes from far away. The fires of hell know one loyal to Zariel herself! A trickster, traitor and danger to all. One should know better than make a deal with this devil…” You hear from behind the curtain Gustav begins your introduction.

“That’s my cue. Let’s give them a show worth remembering.” Molly kisses your knuckles before his lips meet yours and he’s off by the time you open your eyes. Taking a few deep breaths you wait for the ‘story’ to continue.

“They say a devil’s heart cannot be tamed. They must never have met the Summer Princess! Blessed from the Feywild, what is beautiful is most dangerous and they are no exception. The Summer Princess walks among the Seelie Courts but those who pay careful attention may just hear their song. Be warned, they are much more treacherous than the devil…” Peaking through the curtain just so no one can see you focus on the support beams of the tent and begin casting your spell. Blooming vines creep up the beams wrapping around, flowers drape down. Petals begin to fall down from the ceiling provided by the Knot Sisters from the shadows. You hear gasps as people look around. 

You see Molly walk around, sword dragging in the dirt as you hear him growl at the plants. Time to sing and sing you do. 

The people look around as you tend to the flowers near one post ‘oblivious’ of the presence ‘in your garden’. You interact with some of the people in the front row offering them smiles and making flowers sprout around where they sit, offer an airy touch of the cheek of the poor individuals entranced by your song, unable to keep their eyes off you as they cling onto every word. 

Your song speaks of the beauties of the Feywild. Making use of your training you belt. Birds fly into the tent, swirling around you, the devil watching, his face turning from anger to bewilderment as he sticks to the shadows. You reach your hand to the sky mimicking the melody of the songbirds. Stretching your arms to the side one by one they land. You let them sing replying in a song of your own as if you’re having a conversation with them. 

Molly steps out from the shadows and into the light around you. You hear whispers from the audience ‘watch out’, ‘he’s behind you’ and ‘the devil is coming for the princess’. You continue your song walking along the audience, birds still resting on your arms as you sing with them. Next you turn the edge of the blade of ‘the devil’ is pointed at you and you act surprised, your song stopping for just a moment. 

“What are you?” Molly growls showing his fangs as he does fully committing to his role. You can’t help but hide a smile. Such a lover of theatrics. 

“I’m the Summer Princess and you, handsome devil are in my garden.” You sing, the blade drops a little before it raises closer to you. 

“Do not think you can charm me, wild enchantress.” You hum to the birds and they give a reply. 

“I charm only those willing to listen to my song. Are you willing, handsome devil of mine, walking in my garden.” You harmonise with the birds. They leap into flight circling around you and Molly closer and closer until you’re standing toe to toe. 

“Your song is sweeter than temptation, more treacherous than this devil’s words.” You move your hand to stroke his cheek as you do flowers and vines similar to the ones in your hair begin growing in his much like a crown. You may have overdone it a bit but Molly would see later what piece of art you left for him to remind him of your act. 

“Then join me handsome devil, and let the wildflowers keep our secret.” You tilt your head as if you were going to kiss him speaking the last words. You step back, hand outstretched looking at him with bright eyes. Molly’s hand stretches out towards you as you set pack. 

“Come with me, my handsome devil.” You sing as he begins following you with slow paces. Gustav comes around once more. 

“And so the Summer Princess tames the heart of their handsome devil. Their charm never fails and they are as treacherous as they are beautiful still. Take care to stay out of their garden or you might just end up like their handsome devil…”

————————————————————————

After a successful evening show you sit at the camp attempting to remove the vines and flowers from your hair and clothes. They look beautiful but are an absolute hell to get rid of and leaving them in isn’t really an option. As far as you could tell you successfully got rid of all the vines and flowers without harming the delicate silk greens, purples blues and yellow golds of your show costume which left you with your hair. 

Not even half way through with the moon high in the sky you give up with an exasperated sigh and let yourself fall backwards onto the soft grass. Most of the others had gone to bed already or found the bottom of a bottle so you’d find no help there. The calmness and quiet of starry night brings comfort to your mind and you start to drift off a bit. Your ears still manage to catch the familiar footfalls approaching you and your pile of discarded flowers. What you didn’t expect was about a hand or two full of flowers hitting you in the face. 

Opening your eyes you saw Mollymauk standing above you with half grin. By the looks of him he had attempted to get the flowers from earlier out of his hair but struggled just as much as you had and given up halfway through. He hadn’t gone about it as carefully as you though so the purple knotted mess sticking out at odd angles made him look rather funny and you stifle a giggle as you get to your feet. He puts his hands on his hips.

“You think this is funny? I swear, if I didn’t know any better I’d really believe Gustav’s story, you little Archfey!” He speaks exasperated as you pulled away some ivy circled around one of his horns with a laugh dropping it with the pile you had created. 

“Of course I think it’s funny, my handsome devil.” You patted his cheek and took one of his hands with your free one pulling him with you to sit down on the grass. Kneeling in front of him you begin untangling the vines and removing the flowers using your fingers to brush through, carefully pick apart and untangle the mess he had created. Once you are done and just brushing through his hair making sure you didn’t miss anything and to get it back to its usual state he takes your hands and presses a delicate kiss to your palms. 

“Turn around?” The words come out more as a question but you do and sit between his legs as he starts carefully detangling the vines from your own hair muttering a sorry and kissing your shoulder every time he either has to or accidentally pulls on your hair to take them out. It took him a while but eventually all the vines and flowers are gone and you’re just sat, leaning back against him, listening to sounds of the early early morning and the faint light barely visible from the town you’re set up outside off in the fields. 

Molly’s arms wrap around your waist and his head leaning on your shoulder as he hums a tune all too familiar to you. You elbow his stomach looking at him with a fake scowl. He kisses your scowl away and begin humming along with him, a flock of birds dancing overhead as you do. Surrounded by warmth and comfort you both slowly let the exhaustion consume you as the first lights of dawn draw upon the horizon. 

[jordanstrophe]

A Cinnonmon Bun to Pure for this World, 8

Maslterlist

CW: recovering conditioned whumpee, PTSD,  stabbing, physical fight, manhandling, soooome medical whump at the end

“Mister Richard!” Cin ran into the kitchen.  “Hey! Good morni-”

“How do I make money!?” He cried, jumping into his lap and grabbing his coat collar. 

“Woah woah woah, slow down there, tiger...” Richard chuckled, lifting him back onto his feet. “What on earth do you need money for? If you want something, you can always ask. You know I take care of you here.”

“Of course you do, Mister Richard! And I am very appreciative. I owe you my entire life, work, blood, dedication and soul!” He chirped. 

“Uhhhh.”

“Anyway! I need money for that nice man I met in the alleyway.”

“Cin... Cin no.”

“Cin yes!”

“Cin we don’t give money to... People we meet in alleyways. Especially when they have knives and threaten to hurt you.”

“But Mister Richard! He was so kind about it!” He swayed around on his feet.

Richard tilted his chin up to make sure he had his attention. “Just because someone is charming, doesn’t mean they're good. Sometimes the bad people are the good-looking ones.”  

Cin’s head tilted in bewilderment, then his eyes narrowed as they darted left to right. 

‘Oh what I would give to know what was going on in that head of his," Richard thought.

“Why don’t we go for a walk today? There’s a dock not far from here I think you’ll like.” He smiled. Cin’s face halfway disappeared underneath his sweater, but he reluctantly nodded. 

-

Richard purposely took the route that had elegant stores. Cin stared at every window he passed with wide twinkling eyes, muttering a tiny ‘woah’ under his breath after passing each one. 

“Let me know if you want to go in anything.” He said, but only silence answered.

 He felt a presence missing from his side.

“Cin?” He turned around to find him frozen, staring blankly at a window. “Cin!” Richard called, walking towards him. He noticed his hand twitching violently, the closer he got the more he could see his trembling. 

‘Oh dear…’ 

He gently took Cin’s arm to pull him away from whatever was triggering him. The window he was standing in front of was an appliance store, the display covered in knives and tools. 

“Oh Cin…” Richard took his shoulders and steered him away. He crouched down till they were face to face. “Look at me, you’re alright.” 

He still didn’t move. His face was blank, but his eyes were wide with horror. Richard reached to touch his hand, his fingertips just grazing as Cin flinched back and cried out like he had been struck. 

“Hey hey hey! It’s okay. You’re okay.” He turned on his calm coaxing voice. “No one is hurting you, you’re safe.” His hand hovered just inches from his shoulder, but he didn’t dare touch him. A high pitch sound was coming from Cin’s throat, a whining, maybe crying. He didn’t know, it was almost inaudible.

“Hey, come walk with me.” Cin twitched slightly in his direction, his eyes unblinking, but he obediently gave his hand. “There you go, that’s it.” He encouraged. 

He walked him to the next window, a toy store with a display of colorful stuffed animals. Cin didn’t seem to see them as he stared dead ahead. Richard turned his hand until his body turned with it, the only thing in front of him now was the colorful display.

“My mother took me here when I was a child. Told me I could pick one thing of whatever I wanted.” He gently wrapped his arms around him from behind. “But she was a cruel woman who wouldn’t let me buy the 500$ lego ferris wheel.” He chuckled. 

He could see Cin give off a small smile in the reflection of the glass. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Do you want to pick something? I know it’s a bit childish, but you can never be too old to have fun, eh?” He rested his chin in Cin’s hair. He felt a tiny nod. 

Before he could take his hand, Cin was the one who took his, and led him into the store. Richard was surprised, but went along with it.

They silently walked the isles, Cin’s eyes darting to study every single thing he passed. He still clutched Richard’s hand behind him, pulling him along. His eyes locked on to something as he stopped.

It was a stuffed octopus with a happy smile. Cin pushed his hand into its soft head as it sunk in. “Oh! I think that’s the reversible ones.” said Richard. Cin looked down at his hand to try and figure out how to do it without letting go of him. He ended up locking his elbow around his arm so he could use both hands. 

He flipped it inside out, the color changing from dark purple, to red with a tiny mischievous face. Cin started to laugh, flipping it back out.

“Is that your pick?” Richard chuckled.  “...Yeah.” Cin murmured with a smile. 

-

Cin held the octopus close to his chest as they walked the dock. “You like your octopus?” Richard asked. “I love it! Thank you, Mister Richard! Its name is Fishsticks.’’ He smiled proudly.

Richard didn’t question it, he just hummed in acknowledgement. A wave underneath them passed as Cin cringed and pressed his body against his side. Richard wrapped an arm around him for support. 

“Mm… M-Mister Richard, may I please go ahead to the car?” Cin whined. 

“We’re almost there, stay with me.” He soothed. “Bu-but it’s right there! I’ll go straight to the car, plleease?” He begged. Richard really, really did not want Cin on his own again.

“I’m sorry, hon. But I would really be more comfortable if-” Cin turned Fishsticks to the angry face, cranking it’s mischievous eyes to stare at him. Richard started to regret letting him have that thing.

“Cin, I-” He peeled his eyes off the octopus's face to see Cin’s sad devastated one staring up at him.

“Ugh! Okay fine! But straight to the car, young man. Got it?”

“Got it, Mister Richard!” He cheered, running off down the dock. 

“How on earth am I going to keep this man alive…” He muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Cin made it to the end of the dock, hopping off with a relieved sigh. 

“Wait… Cin?!” A voice called. He froze as he glanced around. “CIN!” The voice shouted angrily. He spotted a white vehicle parked nearby, the window rolled down with… 

Nathen.

The door slammed open as he crawled out of it, burling towards him with his hands extended with confusion.

“..N-Nathen?” Cin took a step back. Nathen’s face twisted even more when he saw his defiance.

“Where have you been!? I’ve been looking all over for you!” He hissed. He grabbed his arm and yanked him forwards as he grunted. “Please don’t tell me you got into any trouble out here. I swear if you talked to any cops.” He jerked him up by his arm so he could growl in his ear.

“You were… looking for me?” He looked up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Of course I was, you idiot! You wouldn't last five minutes out here by yourself! ...Unless you got adopted by some pack of wolves of course. Now into the car, let's go.” He nudged.

“But! But Mister Richard!” Cin pointed in his direction. 

“Who the-.. Whatever, just get in the car.” He roughly started dragging him by his arm. 

“W-wait! Nathen! I can’t go!” He cried, weakly struggling against his grasp. His cries and pleas were ignored as frustration built in his chest.

“I... Said… NO!” He shouted, twisting his arm as he broke free. “Wha-?”

“I-.. I don’t want t-to go with you an-anymore!” Cin squeezed his eyes shut, crossed his arms and stood up straight. His posture died a little when he peaked an eye open to see murder written on Nathen’s face.

“I erm, I mean… No... P-please?” Cin returned to his self conscious posture, shying away. 

-

Richard had caught up, coming to a stop when he found Cin talking with a stranger. Great… What did he get himself involved with now?

That... That was no stranger.

“CIN! Come here now!” Richard commanded, his pace increasing. He could see Cin glancing fearfully between the two men, taking a step back. 

Nathen’s eyes shot to Richard, finally piecing together what had happened. His face turned soft into a charming smile. “Sweetheart, it’s me! You know me, I’m family! Come home, little one, I missed you.” He gently reached a hand out. “If you come home with me now, you won’t be in any trouble, mmkay? Everything will go back to the way it was. Don’t you miss me? I’m the only one who can take care of you, remember?” He smiled.

Cin whimpered as he his arms hugged himself, visibly trembling. 

I should go home.... I wanted to go home so badly this whole time! 

He wants me.. Still.. After all the trouble I caused.

Trouble follows me everywhere, he’s… He’s the only one who can put up with me.

“Cin, please! Don’t listen to him! I know what he’s saying is temping, I do! But do you remember what I said this morning?” He begged.

Cin wiped his tears away, his eyes falling to the ground. 

“Just because something is charming, doesn’t mean it’s good…” 

Richard smiled with a proud sigh at his words. Cin took another step away from Nathen, but not before a hand snagged his hair. “Aah-!” he cried.  

“You! What have you done to him!? After everything I did, everything I taught him, you unravel it!? Do you know how hard it was to get him that way?! Nathen barked. 

“You didn’t teach him anything! You conditioned and abused someone who depended on you!” Richard grabbed Cin’s arm, ripping him from Nathen’s gasp as he fell backwards into the grass. 

“You don’t own him, Nathen! Not anymore…” He growled, stepping between him and Cin. Nathen raised a brow.

“So he still talks about me, hmm?” He crossed his arms. “He must miss home so, so much. I’ll tell you one thing, work has been soooo much harder without him being the lil distraction. So I’d really like my baby back.” He shrugged.

“Oh, over my dead body!” Richard yelled. “Round two then.” He smirked, pulling a knife from his belt. 

-

Cin struggled to sit up, finding the two fighting over a knife against the car. Nathen was shorter and less built compared to Richard, who had his wrist pinned to the window. He took his hand and slammed it against the glass, shattering it as Nathen let out a grunt. The knife fell from his grasp, causing Richard to ease up a bit, forgetting he hadn’t quite won. Nathen used his free hand to grab his hair, slamming his head against the car. 

He hit the ground, dazed, but surprised Nathen wasn’t immediately on top of him after his fall. He blinked up to find Cin on his feet, Nathen behind him with the knife to his throat.

“M-... Mister Richard?..” Cin whimpered, tears silently falling down his cheek. 

“N-no! Nathen please, do-don’t do this! Don’t hurt him!” He begged. 

“Ehh, it’s a little late for that.” He shrugged. “Looks like I won again, ‘Mister Richard’.” He chuckled. 

“Oh yeah?” He huffed, twisting his body till his back was against the car. “You-.. You forgot something this time.” Richard grinned, the hand behind his back revealing a phone that had been dialed. 

“...No.” Nathen gasped, as approaching sirens blared in the distance. “D-dammit…” He scoffed, his grip loosening. 

“I’m not letting you leave here, ‘Mister Nathen’. You lost.” 

Nathen’s eyes fell, his brain wracking as he weighed his options. His face slowly turned into a deathly smile. 

“We’ll see.” 

Cin let out a gasping choke as the knife was plunged into his chest. 

“NO!” Richard cried. 

Cin crumbled on his knees at Nathen’s feet. His hand dug into his hair to push him over on his side as he stepped over him. 

“No no no no no no no!” Richard crawling over to him, pressing the palm of his hands into the wound. Nathen had climbed into his car, hitting the gas to fade down the road.

“Cin! Stay with me! Keep breathing… Please! Keep breathing! Hey!” Richard sobbed. 

His every breath was a light wheeze, but at least it was a breath... 

Fishsticks laid nearby, its blood-spattered mischievous face blankly staring at the blue sky.

(CIN IS NOT DEAD, I REPEAT, CIN IS NOT DEAD.)

@milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101  @happy-whumper @as-a-matter-of-whump @alien-octopus @unicornscotty  @yesthisiswhump @flower-whump @whitebluebell @shokuhoemisaki

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

Special thanks to @milk-carton-whump​ and @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ for helping me pick one  ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

[paperpocalypse]

interlude.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 43. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,304 words

Warning: Swearing

You step out of the car, the bottoms of your loafers scraping against the asphalt, and gaze up at the plain brown building silhouetted against the darkening sky.

The sight hits you with a bout of homesickness. How long has it been since you’ve shopped at a grocery store, really – sometime before the Commission recruited you out of 1949? It must have been. After all, you hadn’t exactly had the time or place to buy food and cook something up. Most of the meals you’d eaten for the past twenty-eight years were from cafés or restaurants.

“[Y/n].” Five snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Oh. Right,” you murmur, walking with him to the entrance. You feel his eyes on you as you push the door open.

As soon as you enter, you soak in the smell of paper bags and fresh fruit. Lands alive. You suddenly remember grocery shopping with your grandmother when you were – well, just a little younger than your physical age right now. Oh, now those were the days. She would take you to the candy store afterwards if you didn’t knock any of the displays over while she shopped.

(Everything was an adventure back then. You’ve been trying to regain that sense of wonder.)

Five lays claim to an abandoned cart and heads straight to the tea and coffee aisle.

You shake yourself out of your nostalgia to catch up with him. “Glad to see your priorities are in order,” you tease, sidestepping another customer.

“They’re always in order.”

“Of course.”

You watch his determined expression, amused, as he examines the shelves of coffee cans and bags like they’re suspects in a lineup. The two of you get halfway through the aisle before coming across a particular brand you remember him liking; he reaches up to grab one can of their 100% Colombian and plunks it into the cart.

Just a few feet away, a man around your age chuckles. “Don’t drink it all at once,” he says when you and Five look over at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Five gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Try me,” he says.

You manage to hide your snort under the guise of clearing your throat. Shooting the stranger what hopefully looks like an apologetic smile, you quickly usher Five out of the coffee aisle before you get a lecture on manners.

“One day I’ll bust a gut and we’ll both get in trouble,” you mock-admonish, smacking him lightly on the arm as you push the cart towards the fresh produce section. “How are we supposed to lay low if you don’t act your age?”

He seems to hunch over further, still displeased by the previous interaction. “In case you’ve forgotten,” he mutters, “I’m fifty-eight years old. I am acting my age.”

The crossness of his posture causes you to sober up a bit. Ah. Knitting your brow, you stop in front of the apple stand, facing him fully.

From the moment that Five and you fell into 2019, it’s been apparent that the whole de-aging thing is hitting him a lot harder than it’s been hitting you. You know that part of it is because he’s the one who actually did the time travel; you know that in between your work to prevent the apocalypse, he’s been combing through his equations, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. You also know that the other part of it is a matter of pride. And you get it. Despite enjoying your recovered youth a little more than Five, you don’t like reliving the experience of being talked down to either. Every time Five gets patronized, you can practically feel his blood boil – age was the only thing of societal value that he had gained from the apocalypse, and now that he’s physically thirteen again, that advantage is gone.

“Five, I didn’t forget,” you reply easily, softly. “But we both know that’s not how either of us look. So we gotta adapt. Like always.”

Five shakes his head, chuckling dryly. “I’ve spent my whole damn life adapting to bullshit.”

“I know.”

He inhales slowly, then exhales through his nose as you put a hand on his back. After glancing at you, he looks away stiffly.

“Sorry for screwing it up.”

“Hey. We got here in one piece and I don’t have back problems anymore. I should be thanking you.” You grin at him, and he scoffs.

There we go.

Dropping your hand to brush your fingers against his, you turn around to inspect the apples. “Now,” you announce, “I know I always complain about inflation, but explain to me why the hell these things are a dollar fifteen per pound.”

You still have some cash that the Commission had given the two of you for meal expenses, and since Five and you have literally nothing else, you spend the next hour perusing all that the grocery store has to offer. It’s quite … normal, really, tossing this or that into the cart and chatting with Five about the kinds of meals you would eat when you were kids, and you like it very much. You haven’t felt this domestic in decades.

After paying for your things, Klaus’s requested chocolate pudding, and Five’s coffee (it was the only thing he had wanted from the store), you take your turn driving back to the Hargreeves mansion.

Five blinks out of the car as you cut the engine, opening the trunk and taking all of the bags before you even open the door to get out.

“We need to start our surveillance of Meritech early tomorrow morning,” he tells you once you join him. “Whoever the eye belongs to is going to walk in there sometime between then and doomsday.”

You nod, closing the trunk and locking the car. “Right.”

The taillights flash in the darkness as you press the button again, just to make sure, and Five waits until you’re satisfied before starting toward the back entrance. With all of the groceries.

How many times do you have to tell him that he doesn’t have to do everything himself? “Fives,” you croon, reaching over to tap his fist. (The answer is as many times as it takes.)

In return, you get a brief glance. Five slows down just a hair, wordlessly shifting the bags to his other hand, and takes your hand.

You can’t help but snort.

“What?” he snips defensively. The two of you stop in the middle of the alley.

“Five, I –” you smile at him, somewhat flustered and absolutely charmed, and gesture to the groceries – “I was going to take some of the bags so you didn’t have to carry all of them.”

He blinks, face blank.

“I see,” he says. You fail to hold in another chuckle, and at the sound of it, Five attempts to let go of your hand.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You tighten your hold, moving to take half of the groceries. “I have two hands.”

With that, you resume walking, both hands full and quite sure that you’ve never adored your partner more than at this moment. Who knew he could be such a romantic?

Said partner walks beside you, silent and avoiding your gaze. You nudge him to break the tension. “I never thought you could be so smooth, dear.”

“You’ve done it before,” he grumbles, and you can hear an undertone of – dare you say it? – embarrassment in his voice. His gaze darts down to the bags. “I assumed wrong.”

“Five. You can always assume that I want to hold your hand.”

Even though you’re being incredibly corny on purpose, Five doesn’t dole out any snark. The two of you enter the house, and when you turn on the lights, you notice, with infinite satisfaction, that his face is flushed.

[wondernimbus]

stressful times — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

request #1: Can I request soft Fred Weasley comforting his girlfriend when she’s not feeling well/on her period and falling behind in classes/ homework? Pretty please 🥺

request #2: Can you write a Fred x reader where the reader is on her period while at Hogwarts during a time when a lot of tests are happening and she needs to be studying but isn’t and Fred notices cause usually she’s like Hermione and always does homework/studies and he figures out why she isn’t and helps her feel better? 

a/n: THIS IS WAY OVERDUE IM SORRY but i decided to combine these 2 reqs bc they were pretty similar !! 

[Y/N] is stressed.

School has never been a piece of cake for anyone—not even for Hermione Granger, who is one of the brightest people at Hogwarts, and certainly not for her, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Chasers, and on top of that, a prefect currently studying for her N.E.W.Ts.

Wood expects her to practice out by the Quidditch pitch every free period in preparation for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. This goes for every member of the team—even the ones who, like [Y/N], are studying for the so-called "big exams". And despite [Y/N] wanting to do well in her tests, she also doesn't want to lose her position in the Quidditch team—so she goes to the practice sessions, anyway, even if it's at the cost of her sleep.

That—coupled with her prefect duties and schoolwork—is wearing her out. So far she has managed to miraculously plow through, but when that time of the month comes and she can barely even bring herself to get out of bed, [Y/N] begins to wonder whether giving up would be a better option.

She could do it. Drop everything and lay in bed all day for the next week or so with a bag of chocolates at her side and pillows cushioning her entire body.

She could—technically, anything in the world is possible—but she shouldn’t, because she has obligations. Prefect tasks; patrolling the corridors and making sure no first-years go astray in the Forbidden Forest (it already happened once—she's not going to let it happen again), N.E.W.T. revisions, homework, Quidditch practice, homework, and then even more homework—

The very moment she wakes up and feels the pain in her lower abdomen, she knows she is done for. She only barely drags herself out of bed and trudges to her classes the entire day feeling like pure and utter dung. Her entire body is sore and her entire mood cranky, but that hardly matters because she has homework to do. And classes to go to. And Quidditch practice and patrolling and studying and Merlin-knows-what-else.

The sourness of her mood doesn't go amiss by any of her friends, and certainly not by her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, who automatically just knows when something is out of the ordinary with her. And while her friends decide to leave her alone after noting her less than pleasant mood, Fred does quite the opposite.

Which is, of course, no different from what he does everyday: stick by her side like glue. And while they'd been best friends for a while, it's only been a few months since Fred finally sucked up the courage to ask her out. So naturally Fred has very little experience with, ah, women’s dilemmas.

To put it simply, he doesn't know how to deal with a girl on her bloody (no pun intended) period. For the love of Merlin, he can't even tell.

So he's a little surprised and his feelings are a teeny bit hurt when he nudges her in the middle of Charms class and whispers, "Was that an earthquake? Or did you just rock my world?" only for her to shake her head without even as much as looking at him.

And so Fred's thought process goes like this: he's done something terribly wrong. He doesn't know what, but he must have, and now he has to make up for it—whatever it is.

First, though, he has to figure out what.

—

It's midnight. [Y/N] doesn't know how on earth she managed to get through the entire day without passing out, but she did and now here she is in the nearly empty common room, sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace with several sheets of parchment and open textbooks splayed out before her.

Jotting down History of Magic notes, her face is scrunched up in the utmost concentration. Fred watches her from where he's sitting on the couch, pouting a little.

"Don't you think you should be resting by now?" tries Fred, the concern in his voice audible as his gaze darts from her to her homework.

She doesn't respond. Fred sighs and gets up off the couch to sit down next to her on the ground. But even then, she doesn't look up from her homework, so Fred takes matters into his own hands and reaches out with his hand to gently cup her cheek, trying to tilt her head towards him.

"Not now, Fred.." she mutters, leaning away from him a little to keep writing. His hand hovers in mid-air, fingers now just barely brushing her face as she's moved away. "I have to.. finish this.."

Her tongue is poking out in concentration as she almost feverishly moves her quill over paper. Fred tries not to feel too dejected and lets her be, waiting until she's broken out of her trance enough to grab her attention again. In the meantime, he props his elbows on his knees, the pout on his lips very much evident as he watches her work. He still doesn't know why she's been acting so distant, and no matter how much he tries to mull things over in his brain, he still doesn't know why exactly she's angry at him. Or if she even is angry.

Was his pick-up line really that bad? Could it maybe be because he'd kept trying to play with her hair in potions class the other day? Or is it because of what he did last week, when he’d talked McGonagall’s ear off about how wonderful a girlfriend he had? Maybe Fred should've been a bit more considerate—[Y/N] has always been a teacher's pet, after all, and he knows that the teachers themselves were surprised when they found out that she was dating him, one-half of the devious Weasley twins who had six O.W.L.s combined..

[Y/N]'s hand stills, and for a moment Fred thinks she's finally finished her homework, but her shoulders have bowed a little and her eyes have closed. The effect this image has on Fred is instantaneous: the pout on his lips is replaced quickly by a fond smile as he lets out a quick breath of slightly dubious laughter and moves to gently tap her on the shoulder.

Slowly, slowly, her eyes blink open.

Another tiny laugh. "You fell asleep for a second there, love," says Fred softly, hand moving to touch her hair, and he's so bloody endeared by her it hurts. Voice a mere mumble like he’s afraid of speaking too loud, he says, "Reckon we should turn in for the night, yeah? You and me both."

There's silence as she exhales, leaning into his touch almost unconsciously as her eyes close and her shoulders slump. "I'm really tired," she tells him quietly, nose wrinkling a little as her mouth stretches open in a yawn. (Good grief, Fred's heart aches.) He scoots forward a little into her, gathering her into his lap where she almost automatically curls up, head on his shoulder and her lips just barely grazing the side of his neck.

Fred can't even remember what he'd been agonizing over just moments before. All his fluttering heart cares about at the moment is his sleepy girlfriend, who's shifting a little in his lap to get herself more comfortable, mumbling something inaudible in her half-asleep state. He has to physically suppress himself from throwing his head back and laughing out loud, because something about the situation he's in is making him feel oddly euphoric. He only has to think about if for a few moments before he realizes why: it's because of how adorable she's being. And Fred’s heart might be melting in his chest—should he be concerned?

"I'm gonna carry you up to your dorm, okay?" says Fred, tone just loud enough to make himself heard but quiet and soft enough so as to not jar her awake. He feels her nod a little against his shoulder. Carefully, he gets to his feet, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back the way a groom would carry his bride. (The thought crosses Fred's head very briefly and just like that he's smiling goofily to himself.)

And the moment is romantic and intimate in a quiet, calming way, until Fred makes the big mistake of murmuring, "I'll fix up your homework and bring it to you so you can work on it tomorrow" and [Y/N] quite literally freezes in his arms. Her entire body goes rigid.

"Homework. Oh, crap." Fully awake now, she lifts her head off of his shoulder, looks back at her pile of homework still on the ground, and then, her panicked eyes meeting his, she says, "Oh, no. No. I can't—I've got to get it done now, Fred."

An incredulous sound tumbles past his lips. "I could've sworn you were asleep two seconds ago.”

She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds before peeling them open again. Fred notes that the bags under them look even more pronounced up close; something that has him frowning at her. “Put me down, please? I really have to get that essay done."

He huffs, shakes his head, and starts walking towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. "What—" [Y/N] yelps, looking up at him with an expression that suggests he’s admitted to strangling a rabbit. "Fred, I said put me down—"

"And let you work yourself to death? No can do, love." Fred looks down at her, lips pressed together in a sorry smile as he shakes his head. He lifts his gaze back away from her as he begins climbing up the steps, trying not to jostle [Y/N] too much in his arms. His tone sing-song, he says, “You need to rest. The essay can wait."

[Y/N] opens her mouth to predictably retaliate, but Fred stops halfway up the staircase and presses a kiss to her lips, effectively cutting her off. At first she’s stiff, but it only takes her a few seconds to relax and melt into him.

When Fred pulls away with one last peck to the lips, he smiles down at her, eyes twinkling. “Have I changed your mind with my superior snogging skills?”

Unable to help herself, she lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. But even then her gaze lingers on her homework, still on the floor in front of the fireplace—totally not yet finished—

“But I’ve only got a few pages left to go,” she says in one last stroke of adamancy.

”And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you stay up all night without getting enough sleep?” They’ve reached the top of the staircase now, and Fred is fumbling with the doorknob of her dorm room, trying to open it with one hand without having to set her down.

“But Freddy.”

Fred pauses trying to open the door, lips unconsciously twitching up into an incredulous grin as he raises his eyebrows at her. Of course she had to use his one big weakness against him—he loves when she calls him Freddy. Or perhaps love is a severe understatement, because he always goes all putty in her hands whenever she sings it into his ear or shouts it at him from all the way across the hallways.

But Fred isn’t having it, not this time. “But [Y/N],” he mimics her tone, still grinning, and the voice in his heart tells him to peck her lips again, so he does. “I'm telling you, love, you need sleep. And besides, we’re already here—once I get this door open—aha!”

The door clicks open and reveals behind it the dark seventh year girls’ dorm room. Fred peers inside, unsure as he steps a single hesitant foot through the door, and then he withdraws back into the landing. “Suppose I'll have to drop you off here,” tuts Fred. “Can’t really barge into an all-girls dorm room in the middle of the night—even when I’m with you. Mum would have my head.” Gingerly, he sets her down on the ground, making sure she’s standing up completely before he takes his hands away. Grinning, he holds his palm out towards her and says, “That’ll be twenty galleons.”

”I didn’t even ask for—“

“A kiss, then.”

And her incomplete homework is still lingering in her head, bothering her—she really does need to have that done at least before breakfast tomorrow—but Fred is standing in front of her with the same playful smile that [Y/N] has never learned to resist so she sighs and stands on her tip-toes, places her hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.

Fred is smiling—she can feel it against her lips. Eventually she starts smiling too, unable to help herself. When she pulls away, Fred cups her cheeks in his hand and pecks her forehead—and then her nose, and her cheeks, and her eyelids, and then she’s laughing, saying, “What are you doing?”

Fred lands another kiss to the tip of her nose, then drops his hands back to his sides. “You look far too lovely for someone in dire need of sleep.”

At the mention of sleep, a yawn tears its way out of her throat. Fred has to restrain himself from doubling over and sobbing because Merlin’s beard was that adorable.

”Fine,” [Y/N] says through yet another yawn, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I am tired.”

Fred gasps far too dramatically. “Who ever could have guessed?”

[Y/N] may be sleepy, but she still has enough strength within her to reach out and shove him lightly by the shoulder. Fred is as theatrical as always; he clutches the spot where she’d touched him as though he’s been fatally wounded.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. Another yawn. Fred drops his act and shoves his hands into his pockets, expression somber as he looks at her, eyes dancing over her own tired ones. “Go get some sleep, alright?”

She purses her lips, shoulders slumping in defeat as she nods. “Okay. Suppose I’ll just try to finish it as fast as I can tomorrow.” And then, voice going soft, she says, “Thanks, Fred.”

Fred is so goddamned endeared.

“And. Um.”

”Yes?”

“Sorry about being so bloody cranky. I'm—“ she pauses, eyes darting away for a moment as she gestures wildly to nothing in particular.

Fred raises his eyebrows.

“On my period,” she mutters. “Have I made it awkward? I'm sorry. I just didn’t want you to think you’d done something wrong for me to be acting.. you know.”

Fred’s brows have risen so far up his forehead he’s surprised they haven’t disappeared into his hair. His mouth has fallen open a little in surprise; whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. But part of him is relieved at the knowledge that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting like someone pissed in your tea,” says Fred teasingly. She rolls her eyes again—another yawn; the largest one so far, actually. He can’t help the fond laugh that tears its way out of his heart and past his lips. Reaching out, he places a hand on the back of her head and kisses her forehead. “Sweet dreams, love.”

She wraps her arms around his middle and nods into his chest, and Fred’s heart melts. “You too, Freddy.”

—

The next morning, [Y/N] wakes up to a mysteriously completed set of History of Magic homework and a bag of Honeydukes' chocolates on her bedside table.

[superbabetotherescue]

Thanks, Brucie-Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1840

Summary: You reminisce on your childhood with your best friend

Warnings: some violence, none really described in detail except reader getting punched in the face (as an alternative to getting teeth pulled), do teeth need their own warning bc they might, probably swearing but idk, kinda sad but don’t worry it’s fluffy, Bruce is a lil bitch but isn’t that kinda par for the course?

A/N: Once again this is just an old oneshot I have that I like a weird amount for no reason. You can read it as platonic or romantic it’s up to you idk but I’m lowkey thinking of making it into a series as platonic best friends so idk. I mean you’re reading it if you want it to be romantic that’s fine lmao I don’t care

Growing up one of Gotham’s elite may be a charmed life, but that didn’t mean that it was without its faults. You had spent your time being ignored by your parents, and your best friend, Bruce Wayne, became an orphan during a back alley robbery when the two of you were kids.

Or at least, former best friend.

In truth, you hadn’t seen Bruce in a while.

Well, you saw him constantly on the news and in the papers and just existing in Gotham in general, but you never got to see him face to face anymore.

Not for lack of trying, either. You sat down one night, the fifth time that Bruce had blown you off to meet for dinner in the past month, and pulled out your old photo album.

There was your fifth birthday party, a year or two after you had met Bruce in mega rich kid preschool, and there the two of you were, sharing a chair and staring at your huge birthday cake.

And the next picture, your favorite, the two of you covered in said birthday cake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Brucie,” You had cried,  whispering to him frantically, “Brucie, I got frosting on my dress!”

You were wearing a frilly pink dress that your mother had forced upon you, and in a moment of excitement you had leaned forward a little too far, and now the pale buttercream frosting covered your bodice.

“Uh oh,” Bruce breathed out slowly, adjusting his tie, pink to match your dress, and looking down at his own tiny three piece suit.

You were panicking, breathing heavily, “My mom is gonna be so mad!”

With a quick tug to your pigtails, Bruce shook his head, “I got this, Y/N.”

He reached forward and scooped a large chunk of the cake out, turning to you and smashing it against your chest quickly.

“Ah!” You jumped backwards, “Bruce!”

“Come on, hit me back,” Bruce hissed, grabbing another handful of cake and smushing it into your face.

As his plan dawned on you, you nodded, getting your own chunk of cake and throwing it at him, laughing delightedly as it landed in his hair.

“Bruce!” Mrs. Wayne scolded, running forward and crouching next to her son, who was currently trying to wrestle you, “You’re such a mess. Ms. Y/L/N, I’m so sorry for my son’s behavior!”

Your mother merely shook her head, smiling pleasantly, “Oh please, don’t worry about it, Martha. Those two are always getting into trouble.”

Victory!

You leaned over to your best friend with a wide grin, wrapping him in a tight hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flipping a few pages, you chuckled at what you saw.

Your face and Bruce’s fist matching in bloodiness, and a huge gap where your teeth were missing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were twelve years old, and you had five loose teeth. Your last five baby teeth. All in a row next to each other.

And, like most twelve year olds, you had a healthy fear of the dentist.

“They want me to go to the dentist tomorrow to get the teeth pulled!” You complained to Bruce, the two of you laying in his living room under the guise of studying.

He shrugged, “You just have to get them out before the dentist, right? Just keep wiggling.”

“I’ve been wiggling!” You sat up, shaking your head, “It’s not working. I need a new approach.  Maybe Alfred can make something sticky for me to eat and the teeth will get stuck in it. Like that toffee your-”

You froze, not looking at Bruce anymore.

His hand touched yours gently, and you turned to see a small, sad smile on his face, “Like the toffee my father used to make at Christmas? That would be good. But Alfred’s working on something, I think.”

Nodding, you hmm’d quietly to yourself for a moment, “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t let the dentist pull my teeth. I just can’t do it, Brucie.”

“Don’t call me Brucie,” He scowled, but you knew he didn’t really care.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, pushing your teeth back and forth with your tongue as the two of you thought.

“I have an idea,” Bruce stood, extending his hand out to you, “But it’s a little unorthodox.”

If he hadn’t been offering to help you, you would’ve rolled your eyes at the way he spoke.

You rose next to him, nodding, “Anything! Anything that keeps me out of the dentist’s chair.”

He took a breath, deep, slow, thoughtful. His hand reached out towards your face, thumb stroking your lips, palm cupping your jaw and cheek.

What was he doing?

And then he reared his fist back, and punched you in the face.

It hurt, that was for certain, but it was well concentrated in one place, and you coughed as you choked on the teeth, spitting them into your hand.

“There’s only four,” You frowned, counting them quickly.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” He held his fist back out, and you saw the fifth tooth embedded in his knuckle, “You can have it back.”

With a chuckle you plucked the tooth out and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred had a field day with that one, you remembered, but it was still better than going to the dentist.

With a few more flicks of pages, you felt your heart catch in your throat.

Prom night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5:30.

Your date was supposed to come meet you at Wayne Manor at 5:30 so that you could go out with Bruce and his pretty blonde arm candy.

And now it was 6:45, and he still wasn’t there.

You’d been pacing the parlor of the Manor for two hours. Bruce and his date kept disappearing to make out in various rooms, and Alfred had stopped standing at the front door and had instead begun to busy himself in the kitchen.

And you were crying.

“Shit,” You hissed, wiping a tiny smear of eyeliner out from under your eye.

You weren’t going to cry over him. Especially not after you’d spent three hours on your makeup. You couldn’t do it.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just leave her,” You heard The Blonde complain to Bruce in the next room over, “She’s totally bringing down the mood.”

“Hey, back off,” Bruce sighed, “She’s my best friend. I’m not leaving her all alone on prom night. Maybe she can just come out with us.“

“I’m not spending my prom night with some loser who got stood up by her own date.”

You bit your lip, swallowing back a sob and then speaking loudly enough for them to know they were meant to hear you, “Hey, Bruce? I think I’m just gonna go, okay? Sorry for holding you guys up.”

“Wait,” Bruce opened the door to the closet he and his date were in, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, don’t go.”

The Blonde gasped indignantly, and you shook your head, “No, seriously Bruce, don’t worry about it. I’m just-”

“Don’t leave, Y/N,” He said again, and the solidness of his words, the complete authority in how he said it, was enough to freeze you, “I’m taking you to prom. You can’t leave me.”

What?

“What?” The Blonde shrieked, stomping her heel on the ground, “You’re not taking her, you’re taking me!”

Bruce gave her a rather pleasant smile, “Actually, I’m not. I think you’re a stone cold bitch and if I look at you for any longer than fifteen more seconds, I think I’ll vomit. Now get out of my house,” And with that, waving a dismissive hand at her, he turned to you and grinned, “Now, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of being my date to prom?”

A burst of energy running through you, you sprang forward and wrapped him up in a hug, “Absolutely. Thanks, Brucie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing your photo album, you sighed.

It felt like just yesterday in so many ways, and yet a million years ago.

What had happened between you two? What had you done to drive him away? Maybe a walk would clear your head.

You grabbed your keys and left, walking the streets of Gotham and thinking of your younger days.

There was a playground where you and Bruce would sometimes sneak off to play, halfway between both of your houses. It was where you had taught him how to throw a punch when you were six, where he had taught you how to cartwheel when you were eight, and where you two had shared your first kiss when you were ten.

You laughed at that memory too, wishing you had a picture in your album of that day, when the two of you had decided to be each other’s first kiss just so you’d know what you were getting yourselves into.

You’d sat on top of the monkey bars, staring into each other’s eyes as you came to your solemn decision, and leaned forward to give each other the briefest of pecks on the lips. And then you’d both fallen off the monkey bars, wiping your mouths and gagging dramatically.

Standing by those monkey bars, you ran your hands down the side with a smile.

And then you felt the cold barrel of a gun press into the back of your neck.

“Give me all your money, and get on your knees,” A dark voice growled.

Crap.

How could you let yourself be taken completely by surprise, in Gotham of all places?

Shaking, you tried to speak, your voice catching in your throat, “I… I don’t…”

“Hey!” A familiar voice sounded through the air, cutting you off, “Back off!”

You felt the  rounded metal leave your skin and let out a sigh of relief.

Spinning on your heel, you watched as your attacker, a large man with a ski mask pulled over his face, so cliche, got the crap beaten out of him by…

“Batman?” You gasped.

Of course!

Batman wrapped an arm around you, scoffing at the thug on the ground, and shot a grappling hook into the air.

As you felt yourself fly your head spun, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

So this was why he kept standing you up. Why he always came up with some flimsy excuse. He couldn’t just tell you he was the Batman, and besides, the mystery of it all was surely an ego thing for him.

You landed outside your house a moment later, the dark suit encompassing Batman just intimidating enough for you to almost take a step back as he rumbled, “You should be more careful. Especially at night.”

But you couldn’t take his warning seriously.

Your best friend wasn’t avoiding you, he didn’t hate you, he just had a secret!

You were too ecstatic to pay his advice any mind.

And so you simply wrapped him in a hug, your arms erupting into goosebumps against the cold armor that he wore, “Thanks, Brucie.”

[maggiec70]

Fun in the Country

My version of Joachim and his BFF, Jean-Boy, at the spa in Bareges and then adjourning to one of J-B's little country properties for more typical Gascon amusements. As always, these shenanigans are seen through the viewpoint of the former Milanese contessa/current aide-de-camp. She disapproves.

Joachim Murat sent Jean a note a few days later. I’m leaving Madrid tomorrow. We should meet at Barèges. It’s a decent spa and not far from you.”

“Why would you want to visit with Prince Murat?” Mariana asked when Jean showed her the note. “You’re always scrapping about something.”

“Not always. Besides, Joachim is entertaining, even when he doesn’t mean to be.”

Mariana resigned herself to a two-day ride to the Pyrenean spa and then days of constant Gascon bragging from two masters of the genre. As rowdy as it promised to be, she hoped the change of scenery would sweep away the last of her anger. Jean had done what she insisted. He’d waved the required documents conferring the majority of his country properties to Jean-Claude under the nose of an elderly black-clad lawyer who creaked each time he moved.

“Give me an official copy,” she’d ordered the lawyer, her peremptory tone causing his furry white eyebrows to rise as his brass-rimmed spectacles slid down his nose. He should have been used to her by then, after her questions directed at him like an artillery assault had determined—finally—that he had the requisite legal acumen and ethics for the task.

“Why did you want a copy?” Jean had asked her when the lawyer scurried away, portfolio clutched tightly beneath one arm. “Don’t you trust me?”

“That’s not the problem. You won’t be here when those documents become an issue. I don’t trust anyone but myself to handle this matter properly.” And if she weren’t around, she would entrust it to one of the phalanx of attorneys who managed her affairs. After all this time with her, they were eminently trustworthy and as ruthless as the Sforzas.

Now, comfortably settled in Barèges, almost everyone drank gallons of rough red wine and told amazingly obscene stories that made Mariana cringe in embarrassment. Neither Jean nor Murat went anywhere near the spa until two days later, complaining of headaches, and by then, she hoped they would both drown. She left whenever she could to explore the neat, tiny village tucked away in a hollow of the hulking, snow-covered Pyrenees, wondering if the change of scene was worth much. She was still angry, but not for the same reasons.

“I don’t know Jean anymore. What’s come over him?” she asked Joseph one evening during a long and raucous meal.

“Given the right circumstances, men revert to a certain type. Be patient—it’ll pass.”

“I can’t imagine you behaving in such a fashion.”

“I have, but you’ve never seen it. You’ll feel better if you ignore it all.”

She couldn’t ignore anything and cringed when Jean suggested they abandon the spa for one of his country properties. “Plenty of room, much more than here. Nobody to disturb us unless we invite them,” he explained, definitely listing to one side.

Murat agreed at once. “Excellent idea, as long as there’s plenty to drink. If you know some lovely ladies to make the time pass pleasantly, be sure to invite them.”

“I’ve got enough Armagnac to put you on your imperial backside every night. As for ladies, I’ll send for as many as you like,” Jean promised in a haze of Bordeaux-inspired grandiloquence. Although the rest of their aides grinned at the prospect, Mariana was livid.

That night she sat rigidly upright in bed, every nerve quivering with anger, while Jean undressed. He wobbled as he tried to get his boots off, and she snickered at him. She hoped he would fall on his face and lie on the rough-planked floor until morning.

“What’s the matter with you?” He tossed the boots aside and fumbled with the buttons on his coat.

“How can you take Prince Murat to that refurbished abbey you bought? How can you promise to amuse him for however long he wishes and send spurious billets-doux to all the women in the countryside? Besides,” she snorted, growing angrier as she spoke, “who’d write them? I expect you’ll ask me since you can’t string three coherent words together. You do know what this makes you?”

Jean did not bother to put on his nightshirt and crawled in bed naked, collapsing against the pillows, one arm flung across his face. “I’m sure you’ll explain. My head’s splitting, so don’t take too long.”

“You’ll be an imperial procurer, in the basest sense of the phrase.”

“Humph!”

“While the prince amuses himself with whichever ladies are besotted enough to accept your invitations, you doubtless expect me to entertain you.”

“You do it anyway.”

Mariana knew neither her anger nor her disapproval would matter in the morning. Leaning over, she blew out the candles. Jean was instantly asleep, snoring gently.

“Merde alors!” She threw a pillow at him, but he never moved.

The following day, not very early, they exchanged pleasant Barèges for the rather outré former abbey of Bouillas near Lectoure. “Surely the monks had better taste than this,” Mariana said after she’d struggled with an ancient, stout wooden door and opened it onto a riotous jumble of gothic, rococo, and Louis Quinze furnishings in the refectory. “If the bedchambers are like this, I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Yes, you will,” Jean replied and led her upstairs.

“It looks like a cheap bordello,” Mariana hissed at him after half a dozen young ladies arrived, as promised, the next evening, “and now it smells like one. I hope the ghosts of the poor, dispersed monks haunt you.”

He grinned at her over the nearly bare shoulder of a blonde in a primrose satin gown determined to charm him, one way or another. Stifling an impulse to slap them both, Mariana stalked out of the refectory and up the stairs.

She sat on the bed in their chamber, full of the most opulently overdone furnishings imaginable. There was scarcely enough room to walk from the door to the bed to the clothes-press to the recessed windows with their thick, wavy glass without bumping into a piece of furniture or a low stool or tripping on the layers of Turkey carpets covering the dark wooden floor. She ignored the assaults on her senses, balled her hands into fists, and swore that this nonsense would end in the next hour or she’d pack up and leave. The muscles in her neck and shoulders tight from anger, she didn’t care what Murat or Joseph or Marcellin or anyone else did where she could see or hear them. But she refused to spend another moment watching overdressed, painted, and perfumed women fawn over Jean. “I’ll put them in their places,” she muttered, sliding off the bed, “and if it causes an uproar, as well as the end of my military career, so be it.”

Mariana yanked off her boots and tossed them in the corner. She stripped off sash, coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, throwing them across a chair. With an impatient jerk, she removed her shirt and untied the bands across her breasts, shook her hair free of its heavy braid, and ran her fingers through it, coaxing it into its usual waves and curls. After rummaging through her trunk and Jean’s, she deliberately omitted her lace-trimmed drawers and pulled on a clean pair of tight doeskin breeches, silk stockings, and flat-heeled shoes. She took one of his shirts, the cotton batiste so soft it clung to her skin. She thought about dipping the shirt in cold water and then putting it on, as Thérèse Tallien had done with her muslin gowns during the wilder days of the Directory. Instead, she left the laces undone and tied her sash low on her hips, the heavy fringed ends swinging gracefully as she walked. She found her emerald and diamond earrings tied in the corner of a handkerchief and put them on, pleased with the way they sparkled and swayed, unconcerned with the incongruity of fine jewelry and her motley attire. Creeping down the hall and into a chamber occupied by one of the female guests, she splashed herself with perfume from a cut crystal bottle. “About what I expected,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the heavy scent of ambergris.

Mariana descended the stairs, hoping the worn treads wouldn’t creak. No one noticed her until she had sauntered halfway across the room and shoved the primrose-clad woman’s soft, bejeweled hand from Jean’s arm.

“This one belongs to me,” she said, ignoring the woman’s stunned expression and the sudden quiet in the room. Mariana perched on Jean’s knee, buried her hands in his hair, and kissed him until she ran out of breath.

“You’ve been a fool, keeping this beautiful creature hidden from the world,” Murat said. “Ma foi, I think you’ve outdone Masséna. Where’d you find her?”

“It’s a very long story,” Jean said. “I can’t tell you right now.”

Mariana enjoyed watching him squirm, although not from the prince’s comments. “What’s the matter, mon cher? Are your breeches too tight?” She nipped at his ear. “You probably shouldn’t stand up.”

“The hell I won’t!” Jean pushed her off his knee, stood abruptly, and grasped her wrist so tightly that she winced. He strode from the room, pulling her along to the sound of Murat’s approving whistle.

...and you can imagine the rest if you like. I remember laughing the entire time I spent writing the entire scene, pleased that I'd pretty well nailed it. Nothing like real historical people having sex, is there?

[frenchbreads-writing]

Happy birthday|{Tokoyami Fumikage}

Holy shit okay third time’s the charm

Happy Late Birthday to our favorite Prince of Darkness!

I wrote something for his birthday and I’m pretty sure we all have realized that I probably will never post on time for a character’s birthday lol anyway

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Tokoyami Fumikage x Male Reader

Words: 2.3k (2,305)

Warning(s): blood(it’s only a little)

Requests: Open

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crap crap crap.

How could you not know this?

He’s your boyfriend!

You were pacing around your room. It was 9 pm on October 29th. The night right before Fumikage’s birthday.

And you had nothing to show for it.

You don’t even have a gift... You’ve got nothing to surprise him with.

It was too late in the night to leave the dorms and Fumikage was going to spend the whole day with you tomorrow in your dorm.

You had no decorations, no cake, and no gift.

You thought for a moment before coming up with a few solutions.

For decorations, you could go to Momo for that. For the cake, you’re sure you can convince Sato to help you make one.

But for a gift? it was too late to get permission from Aizawa to leave the dorms.

You sighed and glanced at the time on your phone.

9:43 pm.

If you were going to get help to set up something for his birthday you had to do it now.

You stood up and walked to the door, putting on your slippers and walking out.

First, you headed towards Sato’s room since it was closer.

Knocking on the door, you waited a moment before it swung open.

“(Y/N), What’s up?”

“Tomorrow is Tokoyami’s birthday and I was wondering if you could help me make a cake?”

He thought for a moment before looking at you apologetically.

“Sorry I can’t I need to study tonight.”

You sighed.

“That’s fine do you have any cake recipes that have apples?”

Sato retreated into his room for a minute before coming back with a piece of paper with ingredients and measurements.

“Thanks.”

You waved and walked away towards the elevator.

Pressing Momo’s floor you patiently waited until the ding and walked up to her door.

She had said she was with studying with Jirou so you wanted to make it quick.

Knocking on the door a blushing Momo popped her head out.

“Ah, how can I help you (Y/N)?”

You feel as if you interrupted something that was not studying.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Uh yes, what do you need?”

“Could you make me some stuff for a birthday?”

She paused for a moment.

“I- um give me a moment please?”

She hastily shut the door leaving you standing in the hallway alone.

You had been standing there for a while and you were honestly debating just leaving. Until she opened the door again this time a bit wider and handed you a bag.

“H-here you go, good night!”

She closed the door before you could say anything.

“Um, thanks?”

You walked away and headed back to your room.

Just as you were about to open your door Kirishima’s door swung open and Bakugou walked out. The two of you made eye contact but your eyes strayed down to his shirt that you knew for certain belonged to Kirishima.

He blushed and grabbed onto the fabric over his chest.

“Not a damn word.”

You gave him an unimpressed look.

“Half of the class owes me money now so I don’t care, do what you want, or in this case who you want.”

You slipped into your room and shut the door the sound of explosions and Kirishima trying to calm Bakugou down made you snort.

Now, you need to set up the decorations.

You poured the stuff Momo made out of the bag and onto the floor. There wasn’t enough to cover the common room that you could tell from the small size.

So you were going to decorate your room and surprise him with that. Hopefully, it would suffice. There were also some cake decorations thrown in there.

Without wasting any more time you got to work.

About 2 hours and many ruined decorations later you admired your handiwork from the doorway. It wasn’t the best but with your limited resources, it would have to do.

You checked the time and it was already midnight which means everyone should be in their rooms so you should be able to make the cake without anyone knowing.

You walked into the kitchen area and reached into your pocket, taking out the list of ingredients and measurements Sato gave you.

You gathered all of the ingredients that you needed.

You were glad Kaminari and Sero forced Bakugou to help them bake stuff. Although after that the kitchen smelled weird for a few days and you had a suspicion about what they made.

You grabbed your phone and searched for a tutorial and got to work.

You were mixing the batter when the elevator dinged and out stepped your boyfriend.

He was about to round the corner when he heard you.

“Am I doing this right?”

Curious he peeked around the corner and saw you holding a mixing bowl and a cup with a cut-up apple inside staring at your phone screen.

“Mmm yea that’s right, this is easy, haha Fumi’s gonna love this!”

You proceeded to pour the apple slices into the batter and mix.

Fumikage felt his face grow warm.

You were making a cake for him?

“Duh, it’s for our birthday.”

Fumikage jumped as Dark shadow appeared and spoke.

He grabbed Dark shadow and covered his mouth with his hand.

The sound of your mixing stopped.

“Hello? Kirishima or Kaminari, if that’s you just know you’re not getting any so go away.”

The sound of your mixing resumed.

Fumikage released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Don’t be so loud!”

He whisper-shouted at Dark shadow.

“Sorry, Fumi.”

He just sighed and peeked around the corner again to see you pouring out the batter into a pan.

He pulled back and hushed Dark Shadow and began tip-toeing back to the elevator.

You didn’t notice the elevator ding again as you were slipping the pan into the oven.

“Now I just have to wait until it’s done.”

You set a timer for 30 minutes and began searching up another tutorial for icing and began making it.

You had already made 1 color when you decided to check the time again: 2:30 am.

‘Already? But I basically just got here.’

You sighed and began mixing the icing a bit faster.

Around 3 more hours passed with you taking the cake out of the oven and taking your time to very carefully decorate it.

It looked a bit wonky but you’re sure he won’t mind.

You stretched out your limbs hearing the satisfying pops and stood up.

All you needed to do now was get it to your room and then you can surprise him with it.

You cleaned up your area and with one more look over to make sure you didn’t leave anything you picked up the tray with the cake and began walking towards the elevator.

Halfway there your fatigue finally began catching up with you.

You suddenly got hit by a wave of sleepiness and stumbled.

Oh no.

Your foot got stuck behind the other one and you watched as you tipped forward cake already sliding off of the plate.

It couldn’t have gotten any worse but just as you began falling the elevator doors opened revealing Fumikage.

And he witnessed the way you face planted and dropped the cake you spent so much time on onto the floor.

“Um, surprise?”

He looked at the cake and the black and purple icing now covering the floor.

He shook his head and rushed over to you helping you off the floor and pulling you into the kitchen. Making you sit at the counter while he grabbed a few paper towels making you lean down to his height to dab away the blood that’s currently dripping from your nose.

“I guess my surprise was a fail I’m sorry Fumi.”

“It’s okay (Y/N) It’s the thought that counts.”

You straightened up and looked into his eyes.

“But I really wanted to make something for you since I wasn’t able to get you a gift.”

The feathers on his cheeks ruffled as his face grew warmer.

“You don’t need to get me a gift, your presence is enough for me.”

Dark shadow appeared and bumped your hand.

“As long as you keep the head scratches coming I’m cool.”

You smiled and scratched under Dark shadows’ chin.

Fumikage stepped between your legs and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“I saw you last night making the cake I thought it was sweet that you thought of me.”

You looked down at him.

“That was you sneaking around?”

He looked at you sheepishly.

“It was an accident I didn’t know you were in here so late.”

You sighed and placed your hands on his waist placing a soft kiss on his beak.

“Well, at least I have one more surprise that you don’t know about.”

He looked at you with a questioning expression.

“I will show you after I clean up the cake that is currently covering the floor because Iida will probably burst a blood vessel.”

He snorted and let you go so you could grab some cleaning supplies.

After getting as much of the cake out of the carpet as you could, you led him to the elevator pressing the button to your floor.

When the elevator doors opened and you walked up to your door you covered his eyes with your hands.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise dummy so the two of you have to close your eyes.”

He chuckled.

“Alright, I’ll close my eyes.”

You let go and made sure he didn’t open his eyes and opened the door, grabbing his hand and pulled him inside.

“No peeking I just need to do something really quick.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

You nodded and began lighting candles one by one.

“I thought you had already dropped the cake before do you have another one I don’t know about?”

“Haha no no just wait one more second, then you’ll see.”

“Hurry up (Y/N) I wanna see!”

Dark shadow cried out.

“Okay okay I’m done you can open your eyes.”

The two of them opened their eyes and dark shadow began laughing and Fumikage had an amused smile.

You had all of the generic birthday decorations like streamers, balloons(without helium), and a banner that said “Happy Birthday!” On it.

But what set them off was another banner that you spelled out his signature phrase “Revelry in the dark” in bright pink lettering. There were also many lit candles that he had given to you before that you haven’t really used. The window was also covered with blackout curtains so the room was dark.

“Tada, do you like it?”

“It’s perfect, thank you (Y/N).”

“Yeah yeah, it’s awesome!”

Fumikage walked up to you and gave you a tight hug. Dark shadow also hugged you from behind.

Sighing you hugged the shorter boy back placing your head on top of his.

“I’m so glad you like it and right now would usually be the part where I give you a gift but I don’t have one so I’m sorry. If I found out sooner I definitely would’ve gotten one.”

He gave his version of a kiss onto your cheek.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Well since it’s your birthday I’m all yours I’ll do anything you ask me to that’ll be my gift.”

“Well if you’ll do anything will you stay with me and be alone with me to celebrate this day?”

You chuckled and let go of the hug.

“Anything for you my prince of darkness.”

You placed another kiss onto his beak and in one swift motion, you lifted him and plopped him onto your bed.

You climbed on top of him and placed your head on his chest and laced your fingers together.

“You haven’t slept have you?”

“Ah no I haven’t I was up all night baking the cake.”

He looked down at you and placed his hands on your cheeks and using his thumbs to massage the forming bags under your eyes.

“Go to sleep my love, we can celebrate more later today.”

“Are you sure?”

He grabbed the blanket and draped it over the two of you and pulling you more on top of him.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

You looked at him for a moment before letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Okay, Fumi I will.”

“Hey! Don’t leave me out of this I want to hug (Y/N) it’s my birthday too!”

Dark shadow cried out before sliding under the blanked and placing himself on your back.

You chuckled at his antics before a large yawn made its way out of your mouth.

“Goodnight Fumi, goodnight Dark shadow.”

“Goodnight.”

They whispered back in unison as you fell asleep on his chest almost immediately.

Fumikage looked around the room illuminated by the candlelight seeing all of the decorations that you had obviously put thought into how you put them together.

“Hey, Fumi?”

He looked down at Dark shadow.

“I really like him.”

Fumikage looked at your sleeping face and felt something in his chest swell at the sight.

He looked back at Dark shadow and smiled at him.

“Me too.”

“Can we stay with him forever?”

“We’ll stay with him as long as he is willing to let us.”

Fumikage ran his fingers through your hair gently scratching your scalp. The action made you sigh and shift more into his grasp.

“Go to bed dark shadow, when we wake we can spend as much time as I know you want to with him.”

Dark shadow simply hummed and hugged you tighter.

Fumikage closed his eyes and sighed.

When he wakes, he will show you how much this meant to him.

How much you meant to him.

And with that he let your warmth and rhythmic breathing lull him into slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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