#I��m too hungry to think of a pun

[alrightbuckaroo]

What a year, huh! I haven't written nearly as much as I did last year, but June was my very first time feeling confident writing smut during the entire nine years I've been writing fanfiction, so I'm treating that as a personal victory. Anyways, here's the goods, my personal favorites are in red (you already know, string of fate):

tender eyes that shine | M | 16.1k words

A character study in which Carlos learns to love himself a little more, even the soft parts.

love can pull you out of yesterday | T | 38.9k words

The day TK falls through the ice is a day that Carlos doesn't want to remember, but it's one he can't forget. It's the day he's currently stuck living over and over and over again.

something to give each other | E | 11.9k words

12 times TK and Carlos love each other in their rawest form. or Sex. 12 ways.

goodnights and goodbyes | G | 4.6k words

TK and Carlos journey to New York for the first time to attend TK's high school reunion. While Carlos is dreading the thought of socialization in a new city, TK is dreading the thought of running into something, or rather someone, from his past.

furever home | G | 4.9k words

“Do you think he bites?” TK asks, bringing Carlos back to the present. His question is laced with uncertainty, but it’s not strong enough to raise cause for concern. “You didn’t seem to mind biting all that much the other night,” Carlos playfully counters, pulling out the plastic food dish that’s covered in imprinted black paw-prints. Pun, somewhat intentional. TK, fondly, rolls his eyes. “Really?” Carlos' chuckles are lost in the mix of kibble hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. “Force of habit,” He defends with a shrug. or Carlos and TK get a dog.

modus operandi | E | 1.1k words

Carlos walks through the front door, smelling of gunpowder, sweat, and satisfaction.TK almost falls apart on the kitchen floor right then and there. He’s just finishing putting Lou II back in his tank and putting the rest of the bell pepper away. “Hey baby,” TK greets, his smile turning a bit electric when he seems the gleam in Carlos’ eyes. He watches as Carlos takes off his hat and removes his holster. “Just finished feeding Lou II. He was hungry.” “He’s not the only one,” Carlos declares before undoing the knot in his tie. He collides with TK, mouths overtaking one another, no air escaping between them. Carlos tastes like married life, missed dinners and the right kind of mayhem. or Carlos solves the case and needs to put all of the adrenaline somewhere.

devour me | E | 20.5k words

de·vour [ dih-vou-uhr, -vou-er ]: to consume destructively, recklessly, or wantonly or kinktober prompt fills

come home to my heart | M | 2.8k words

TK crawls up his body as if he’s a path only he gets to trek. As soon as they’re face to face, TK briefly stills, falling even more in love with his husband’s eyes. Brown, warm, and somehow both inviting and begging to be let in. TK wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to beg; there’s a place in his heart where he’s always welcomed. Carlos smiles and TK’s pulled out of his thoughts, smiling back, almost subconsciously. He can’t help it, Carlos just has this effect on him. He leans in, and Carlos opens his mouth, the heat tantalizing and teasing. or a 5x05 Coda in which we see "sexy time" reach fruition and that loving kiss become something more

moments in love

when the morning comes

a pretty good team

it's okay. we're okay.

sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

Don't worry, I'm not done, I made a couple of gif sets too!

“and you were gazing at me, more than gazing — my gaze was dreaming you, and yours was dreaming me.”

a boy's best friend is his mother

Thanks to @heartstringsduet, @bonheur-cafe @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @whatsintheboxmh, and @henrygrass for the tags!

No pressure tagging the lot of you because I want everyone to show off:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @ambiguouspenny

@sapphic--kiwi, @strandnreyes, @sheholdsthemoon, @sanjuwrites, @decafdino

@danieljradcliffe, @freneticfloetry, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @hereghostslive

@honeybee-taskforce, @kiloskywalker, @lutavero, @literateowl, @lemonlyman-dotcom

@lightningboltreader, @orchidscript, @irispurpurea, @ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea

@your-catfish-friend, @three-drink-amy, @theghostofashton, @thebumblecee, @tellmegoodbye

@rosedavid, @reasonandfaithinharmony, @ravens-words, @captain-gillian, @nancys-braids

@emsprovisions, @never-blooms, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes

@basilsunrise, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@mikibwrites, @everlastingday, @noxsoulmate, @lire-casander and of course, the biggest open tag every <3

and as always, if it's been hard to create this year, that doesn't make you any less of a writer, artist, gif maker, etc. you just needed a break, we all do sometimes :)

[yuri-is-online]

Thinking about the future kid au and Jamil!Yutu (help his tsum is so cute, i love the tsum events)

Like...you said Jamil! Yutu wishes he wasn't born so his dad wouldn't have been executed because some Asim relatives guilted him (desoite them being the ACTUAL reason he died)

Needless to say his relationship with his dad is complicated , but I can't stop thinking about Yutu being of two minds about his parents like "I'm gonna get in the way of your plans for the evening because I don't want either of you to get close and eventually die because of me" but also somehow everything he attempts doesn't work

Because Jamil isn't one to give up easily (none of the boys are) and he just- feels so much freer and happier than he ever has when he gets to trade snarky comments, silly puns and honest praise with Yuu. And he won't let this mysterious guy get ik the way of that, he pretends to enjoy his remaining years at NRC to the best of his ability thank you very much. Plus he's working on gaining his freedom and Yuu is his number one cheerleader at this don't tell Kalim tho he'll be sure to cranck up his enthusiasm if you do ofc he won't stop talking to them nor dreaming of what could be, it's all he has to avoid going mad

Yutu however is losing his mind because every time there's danger he gets reminded of his dad's corpse being dragged around and he keeps worrying this time his dad will die trying to protect Yuu from harm

Little does he know Jamil would rather give his life protecting Yuu than any Asim because that's his CHOICE and that's the person who chose HIM over everyone else. Cue Yutu recovering from the battle, looking around frantically for signs of either of his parents and seeing Yuu patching Jamil up, bantering lightly and sharing such soft looks. They look so happy despite their bruises and suddenly Yutu gets this nauseating feeling of dread because he can see why they fell in love, which means maybe he's too late to stop it now

And then Grim complains that he's hungry after the fight and they both share this look and Yutu gets the little sadness of "oh, this is what it would've been like"

Just- aaaaaaahhhhhhh this au is so good and so angsty but also I wanna add just a little bit of fluff for these poor boys (my original thought was of Yutu seeing his parents meeting in the town and following them to try to sabotage their not-date only to end up making each scenario more romantic until he gives up when they start dancing in the middle of nowhere and he recognizes the dance from when Yuu taught him many years ago)

Happy Birthday Jamil (so sorry this is late), the tsum part of this post really shows you how old it is I am so sorry. Jamil is a real cutie though, his birthday message this year is him thanking Yuu for being someone he can trust to give him something without having ulterior motives. Post OB! Jamil should have a special sort of respect for Yuu I think. He understands what it is like to have to care for someone who makes a lot of problems against your will, but maybe not that you could love that person in the way Yuu loves Grim. Lots to think about with JamilYuu, lots to think about... so this one gets to have two parts as well whoops.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, CW lots of self hatred and thoughts of death, body horror, major character death, bullying, and brief mention of suicide. This post features some o.c.s created by @archetypal-archivist for this ayuu. More information about the ayuu can be found here, here, and here. Masterlist can be found here

The early morning is a sacred time for your little family.  When Yutu was little you would sneak into his room to make sure he was still asleep.  He never was, he'd developed some sort of sixth sense for when his favorite person was home and would wait patiently snuggled into the red scarf he used as a security blanket to surprise you.

“Boo!”  The scarf would go up in the air and you would let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise as your son giggled in manic delight.  “I got you!”

“You got me!”  He'd been little enough to lift up into the air then, you miss those days even though they were difficult.  

Your son still “spooks” you when you come home in the morning.  His former blanket has become a part of his wardrobe, and he's much too big for you to lift up over your head anymore but he's not pretending to be asleep anymore either.  

“Boo!”  Today Yutu has made some tomatoes and eggs, you think you smell coffee but that's not a smart thing for you to be drinking right now.  

“Thank you, little light.”  You settle down at your kitchen table and Yutu excitedly tells you about his plans for the day.  When he does this you always feel lucky, as if you didn't expect him to be such a normal and happy child.  As if there was something other than poverty and your illness that would hold him down and deny him any sense of self or success.  Yutu has never felt like there is anything he cannot do so long as he tries, he's very ambitious, your little light.  You've told him more than once you hope his spark never dims, that you are so proud of him for not letting his circumstances dictate his goals.

There's some relief in knowing you aren't here to see him hiding behind his scarf again.  It would hurt you to see how fast he shrinks away from the lich descending from his throne, putrid rotting flesh assaulting his nose even through the silk guard.  This is his fault, he can find no other logical explanation.  You would disagree, he has no idea what the corpse in front of him would say, but neither of you lived to see what he has.  He's not so full of himself that he thinks the world ended with his birth, but yours most certainly did.  

Yutu is a smart and polite child, the sort of little boy who makes old ladies swoon and insist that his parents are so lucky to have him.  That was a point of pride for him before arriving in Twisted Wonderland.  He never had too many questions about his father, he could see he wasn't the only one of his peers who was being raised by a single parent which was enough reassurance for him.  Maybe he'd meet his father one day, maybe he wouldn't.  He was much more concerned with making friends and learning everything he could.

He loves school in general, but his favorite subject is the stars.  It starts with him trying to amuse himself while waiting for you to come home from work and evolves into a hobby as he gets older.  His first proper expensive present is a refurbished telescope you spent a lot of time researching and asking questions about.  That's the first chip at his self confidence when he's alone in Twisted Wonderland; you worked so hard for that gift and he didn't bring it with him.  Sure, he didn't know what was happening but he knew something was off.  He should have grabbed it and kept it close…

Star gazing isn't his only hobby, he really likes cooking and experimenting with coffee.  He took up cooking because he was tired of waiting for you to come home and make food and expected it to be boring but there's something fulfilling about eating food you've made yourself he really likes.  The fact it makes him more attractive to his classmates is not something he thinks about at all, not one little bit.  You've never found him making extra food for a particular “friend” with a familiar determined smirk on his face.  “Your father used to do the same thing.”  You say it absentmindedly, the look of embarrassment you're met with is also quite similar.  “Not.  Another.  Word.”  

Money is tight, but Yutu still finds ways to participate in extracurricular activities.  He wants them on his college applications, sure, but he also wants friends, his own little group of people who won't care too much about his parent's reputation. Cooking club and drama class end up being his home base, you've got an unwilling front row seat to so much pointless highschool drama it gives you a headache.  He likes playing pickup basketball with his friends but joining the team isn't something he got a chance to do before getting isekaid.

The little bits and pieces you remember about his father make him out to be extremely normal. You remember his favorite food, that he liked cooking and playing basketball. You tell your son he takes after his father in how talented he is; Yutu is proud to be like his father, he assumes that he will get the full story from you someday. Maybe his dad died, maybe you never told him that he was going to be a father out of fear and never got a chance because you lost your memories in a tragic accident. Either way, Yutu is sure that one day he will find out who his father is and he'll be able to help you reconcile your relationship, whether it's by processing his death or reconnecting your friendship.

There's nothing particularly special about the day you remember.  He felt like trying something new with his hair and you had offered to turn his scarf into a turban, memories of fireworks sparking your hands into motion while Yutu tells you about what his teacher wants the school play to be this year.

“Careful!”  Yutu whines as you pull his hair through the cloth.  

“I am being very careful.” You laugh, the look on Yutu's face is familiar. Just like... “Jamil bought this for me, you know.”

“Jamil?” Yutu has never heard that name before, but he can tell it's important. He's never heard you sound so tender before.

“I think we were joking about push presents and he was offended thinking he had to wait until you were born to get me something nice.”  There was meant to be a matching piece of jewelry with Yutu's birthstone he thought you didn't know about, but then…  how could you have forgotten that?  You were going to make fun of him for how sloppy Yutu's birth was making him.  He was losing his touch, the old Jamil never would have been so obvious with a surprise.

“Is that such a bad thing?  You're giving me a gift.” Jamil is looking up at you confused, but it's not Jamil, it's your son. Your little light who- "You look so much like him." Your hand shakes, the world around you fades to black and Yutu begins to scramble.

~~~~

When Yutu opens his eyes he's in a dark room in front of a mirror with a mask hovering in a sea of green flame, there is noise buzzing around him that must be conversation, but try as he might he can't reign himself back into focus. You are still, eyes glassy and unresponsive to his calls. There is a man shaking him, trying to pull him to his feet as he calls for... the word he uses is healer and that allows Yutu to settle himself. "... a healer and take Yuu to the hospital wing immediately!" The Headmage snaps and a woman with brown hair immediately bolts to obey. The person next to her reaches out, but does not follow; the boy's presence is throwing cold water over a particular part of the crowd they would be wise to keep watch over. That isn't the right word so Yutu must be dreaming, he gives the man in the fur coat his attention and obeys, stepping forward to allow the mirror to judge his soul.

"Scarabia." If Yutu was not so convinced he was dreaming he would notice the way the person who approaches him looks, the meaning behind the fur coat's insistence he stay put and wait for him in the mirror chamber. But he does not. So when that person extends their hand, welcomes him to Scarabia and asks him to follow he thinks nothing of it. This is all a bad dream, you will shake him awake and tell him more about Jamil.

Not that he really needs to wait.

The first hit is a slap, the second is a basic fire spell but he doesn't know that when it sears his skin. He doesn't even know why these students are so angry, doesn't recognize his own last name he just thinks the word Viper is being used as an insult. When smoke begins to surround him he assumes the other students have decided to stop toying with him. He's going to die. He just found out his father's name, magic is real, other worlds are real, you are dead. You are dead and there's a foul smelling smoke around him; he's never really thought about what it would be like to die but Yutu finds himself surprisingly calm. "We'll be together soon, [parent]... father are you waiting too?"

"I would hate to waste a necklace on the likes of you." An authoritative voice cuts through the smoke, Yutu recognizes this person as his attackers scatter. The strange one who tried to stop the woman who ran off after the man in the fur coat spoke. They are wearing a lot of jewelry, necklaces and bracelets with strange symbols that seem to thrum with power in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. A rueful smile crosses their lips for a brief second. "Not that it would be a waste of course." Their focus turns to the cause of the smoke, a kerchief they give one more good shake before tucking it back into a pouch with even more strange necklaces wrapped around it.

"Where am I?" Yutu sounds so small, he curses himself silently for it but how else is he supposed to feel when the mysterious stranger looks at him with so much pity?

"Exactly where you belong." They say with authority, as if they are attempting to shut out any doubts before they can form. "But, as much as it shames me to suggest it, that might not be the safest place for you right now."

Misbah is how this person introduces themselves. Their friend, who is beyond stressed to see Yutu so disheveled and insists on healing him before allowing him to see you, is named Sehrish. Explanations can wait until Yutu has had time to say his goodbyes, but the look the older students exchange when you ask them to make sure your son isn't treated like Jamil once was tells him there must be a lot of them. Of the three adults, no one agrees how to give him those explanations either. The only thing they do agree on is that it is unsafe for him to be in Scarabia right now, but there won't be a problem with Ramshackle Dorm even if it's name suggests to Yutu that there really probably should be.

Crewel takes him there, explaining along the way who he is and what he was to you; a professor turned reluctant mentor who cared very deeply about Yuu and Jamil's future. He's reluctant to think of himself as a grandfather, he's just not that old he insists and Yutu laughs just the little bit, but if Yutu has questions about Yuu and your time at the school he is more than welcome to ask. On his father he doesn't say much, simply that he is dead. Murdered actually, but the use of that word is complicated by the circumstances of it so Crewel does not suggest Yutu speak of his family to anyone other than Misbah and Sehrish. Yutu learns, later much later, that Crewel didn't wish to traumatize him further. That he wished to take his time in explaining things. A good idea, but no one that realistically was going to work.

Ramshackle Dorm is unlike the other dormitories at NRC, all the students save him are magicless exactly like his parent. They all know a lot about his parent too, much to his surprise you are something of an idol to these people. None of them mind that he can use magic, it's just neat to be able to talk about the magicless prefect with someone who also thinks they're super cool; some of them have family or family friends that went to NRC while you were here and saw how you handled the overblots, others learned of you when they came here as refugees and were offered a place in the program. "Ramshackle is for misfits and outcasts!" A particularly messy third year proudly tells him when he asks him why they don't mind. Yutu doesn't really know how to feel about that. He never manages to figure it out.

Sehrish is a graduate student and Misbah is a fourth year, which as Misbah explains to him means they spend most of their time "in the field." They wished to say everything from the start, Sehrish wanted to explain herself and her family but did not think herself qualified to say anything more. Was uncertain of how her story would make him feel, afraid of it. The Scalding Sands is their primary focus, that would have been his homeland too had Yuu not been disappeared. Currently it is under the rule of a phantom of the Sorcerer of the Sands, one of the Great Seven Yutu will learn about as his classes progress. Misbah does not hesitate to tell him that this phantom once possessed his father when he was a student, and it is believed that this time it is possessing his corpse. It's a thought that sickens Yutu, how could this have happened? And why?

The why is explained to him in parts. Sehrish starts with the history of the Al-Asims, of the city they helped to build and the relationship between her family and his. She describes his father's burning resentment of his station matter-of-factly. His father was a servant from a well liked and respected family, but that reputation came at a cost. The respect was not for him or his talents, it was for how well he served his master and it drove him mad. The desire for freedom and recognition transformed into a phantom, his parent had fought against it and seen it defeated but somehow it had returned to rule over the Scalding Sands.

Overblotting is something Yutu thinks he has begun to understand, his professors have focused on it heavily so he knows what a phantom is. He's even seen a few small ones, but a phantom large enough to rule over a kingdom resembling one of the Great Seven is... frightening. The other students are all more or less aware of their existence and Sehrish takes the rest of her time to explain where and who the other Phantoms used to be. "We don't know why this happened." But people have theories. There is a timeline he learns from other students whispering behind his back, how his parent disappeared and then suddenly Kalim Al-Asim was murdered.

The living Al-Asims aren't at NRC, there is a rival school across the Island where they chose to stay. They don't speak to Sehrish, the only people he can speak to with any level of authority are the one or two older servants who worked with his grandparents. They speak fondly of the Viper family, though of Jamil they offer little specifics. Murder is again the word used for what happened to him, quietly after looking over their shoulder. Yutu had an Aunt named Najma. She was lively, talked about Jamil's business and constantly made fun of him while being proud of his accomplishments. The Vipers were an honorable family. They didn't want trouble. Did not want to rock the boat. But his father must have otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to overblot...

Yutu wasn't quiet before Twisted Wonderland. He thought of himself as outgoing, you would be so sad to see how small his friend circle has gotten. As time passes, as he fights smaller phantoms, ventures into the Queendom on his first real mission, as he looks in the mirror and realizes he has scars now. His scarf has protective sygils embroidered by Misbah to repair the holes, he's met a merman with pointed teeth who mixed him a drink and told him a story about his father that made him sound... human in a way that scared him out of asking for more.

Yutu has seen what his father became, looked a rotting corpse into what remained of it's eyes and listened to it try to speak with a windpipe welded together by ink. The lich sorcerer of the sands is his father. Yutu has spent enough time listening to his Ramshackle dormmates explain their medical studies to see he died young; there are traces of poisons in the hairs he returns to Idia that make even him shudder. He will never get the full story, never get more from his classmates or the Al Asim representative he meets when returning Kalim's body about how this happened. Just that it was deserved, that none of this would have happened if Jamil had known his place and never obtained his freedom. That isn't something Yutu can bring himself to agree with. His father had every right to want the same say in his life that you had worked so hard to give him, and you...

If you asked Yutu when he started feeling like he did not deserve to exist, he wouldn't be able to give you a specific answer. He certainly never felt like he didn't belong in your world, the general sense of disbelonging he felt he always attributed to his ignorance of his father's identity. But that was a fixable problem, he so firmly believed he would one day get to meet his dad and other family and then all those burning cultural questions would be patched up. But Twisted Wonderland was another matter entirely, the harsh welcome made him feel unwanted even if the Ramshackle students went out of their way to try and mitigate that. But all of that acceptance, all of that love was tied to you. The living Al Asims looked at him and saw a pest, expected him to show deference and repent for his father's misdeeds, while the older servants saw a tragedy. A child so fondly spoken of and wished for but doomed to wander in a broken world none of them expected to survive. Either way, the only message Twisted Wonderland had to offer him was one of rejection. Whenever he made up his mind, by the time he made it to the past and was settled into your version of Ramshackle Dorm he was determined to keep you from making the mistake of staying with his father.

Part 2

[samspenandsword]

Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Kinktober Day 5 — Breeding with Commander Thorn Pairing: Commander Thorn/Reader; fem!reader with no specifics to her appearance. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; Breeding kink, unprotected PIV (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), oral sex (m!receiving), armored!Thorn, naked!reader, reader is on birth control, one (1) use of the word "daddy," these two being absolute nasties, language. Word Count: 1.9k

Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2023 Taglist Form

Thank you so much for requesting this @theroguesully 💜 This was not only incredibly fun (and hot) to write, but it really stretched my comfort zone as a writer. I've never written for Thorn before and I genuinely hope I did him and the prompt justice. So please, enjoy some absolute filth with Commander Thorn ❤️

You were frozen where you stood, shocked silent by the charged, erotic words just spoken into your ear. Heat from arousal and embarrassment flooded your body, and you were sure your eyes were wide and your mouth open with shock.

"What, you didn't think I knew?" he said, smiling darkly. You suddenly felt like a canary facing down a hungry cat. "Thought I wouldn't find out?"

"I... I —"

He shushed you gently, with some of the genuine care he usually had for you in abundance. But right now, his features were mostly clouded with lust. The kind only you could inspire in him.

"Don't know why you tried to hide it, cyar'ika," he said. He kissed the crest of your cheek. "You know that if you ever want anything, all you have to do is ask."

You were still embarrassed. It wasn't a realistic fantasy. Not with the galaxy in literal shambles. But admittedly, your fantasy was more about the act itself, not the result of such an act. You had no desire to get pregnant right now. And your implant helped you with that.

But the fantasy... the idea of being bred...

It got your blood going.

You'd never really confessed your raging breeding kink to Thorn, too caught up in your own shame that you'd managed to convince yourself that he wouldn't, in a million years, but into it. But with the way he was gripping you now, his hot breath wafting over your skin, and his deep voice in your ear...

Now you wondered why you'd waited so damn long.

Because Thorn was practically crowding you, holding you so firmly it was like he was trying to press himself into your skin.

Press a part of himself inside you and let it stay there.

Let it take root.

Let it fill you.

You were almost shaking at the mere thought.

Thorn felt the shift in you, smiling slyly. He was going to enjoy this.

When you'd met Thorn, you two had instantly clicked. You'd gravitated towards his natural cheer and warmth, always ready with stories or gossip and good humor. (Good humor was relative. His puns could be lethal.). He'd been magnetized by your presence, warm and kind. Where many civilians didn't have the opportunity to really get to know the clones well enough to tell them apart from each other, and where many of the senate and upper echelon didn't bother, you'd actively gone out of your way to recognize him and his brothers for themselves. First by memorizing their armor and paint, and putting them with a name. Then by learning their quirks and humor, their ranks, their responsibilities, even their coffee orders.

Learning who they were.

How could Thorn not have asked you out when given the opportunity?

Especially since it had led to this fantastic little moment, with you squirming in his arms from both desire and a little measure of cute embarrassment. Looking the absolute picture of temptation.

"So what do you say, cyar'ika?" he said, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and making you shiver wonderfully. "Want me to breed you?"

And really, there was only one possible answer you could give.

Fuck yes.

Your answer found you on your back on the bed faster than you could blink.

And in what felt like another blink, you were naked and writhing as Thorn caressed you with a dark, hungry gaze.

"You are perfect," he said, voice edging into a growl. "Absolutely ripe for breeding."

Your mouth went dry and core went tight at the absolute filth coming from Thorn, usually more humorous, though still loving and absolutely amazing in bed. You definitely regretted not telling him about your breeding kink earlier.

Because he wasn't just indulging it. He shared it.

"Your breasts would swell," he went on, voice husky with lust. His gloved hands framed them, just barely skimming their shape. "They'd get sore, and sensitive, and you'd ask me to massage them for you."

He did just that, palming them in a cupping little massage, rolling them in his grip, testing their weight, imagining how big they'd get, thumbing over your nipples, pebbling them under his touch.

You arched into his hands, feeling pathetically turned on by so little stimulation.

"And your hips," he continued. Thorn brushed his hands down your sides, down the dips and curves of your waist to seize your hips in a firm grasp. You gasped. "They'd swell, too. And expand. Making room for the little one growing inside you."

Oh, god, you thought. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh, fuck!

"Your hormones would change," he started again. "I'd bring you everything you craved. Massage your feet when you ask. Do the chores while you nap, rub your back when you're sore. Help you feel confident in your maternity clothes, and make you cum when you're so horny you can barely stand it. Make you cum so much."

You were fully soaked now, arousal leaking out of you and smearing across your pussy and thighs. The pressure was building inside you, like water in a kettle, heating up until it just started to steam, desperately looking for a way to relieve the pressure.

"The little one would be strong," Thorn husked, eyes dark and expression growing hungrier. "Just like their mother."

Your pussy tingled at that, but you had to add, "Just like their father."

Thorn's answering smile was edged with something dark. Curls escaped his bun, framing his darkened eyes.

"Hmm, he acknowledged. "You want all that, don't you, cyar'ika?"

You burned a little, flustered, but Thorn didn't let you hide.

"It's okay," he said, soothing, "I do too. But —"

He suddenly yanked you down the bed, seating you right to his covered length.

"I have to breed you first."

And you could not fucking wait.

"Sit up, cyar'ika. Hands and knees."

You scrambled to follow his directions, leaning forward until you were facing him, on your hands and knees. You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, and he groaned a little.

"So eager," he praised. His thumb traced briefly over your cheek before falling to unclip his codpiece. His cock was unveiled next, untucking it from his compression suit. It bounced a little, looking flushed and rock hard. "Go on, get me slicked up for you. Get me nice and wet so I can breed you."

You set about your task eagerly, instantly enclosing your mouth around him. Swirling your tongue around him, you slicked his skin before beginning to bob. You took him further and further each time, your tongue and mouth making him slick and even harder. Until finally, finally, he was hitting the back of your throat.

And he still wasn't fully in your mouth. Maker, he was so big. You couldn't wait for him to be inside you.

Braced on your hands and knees, you could only use your mouth on Thorn. You alternated between taking him in your mouth and peppering him with licks and kisses. You laved your tongue all the way up his length, teasing just barely over the skin of his balls and making him groan out a praise.

You kissed his tip, then opened your mouth and swallowed him.

"Oh, good girl, cyar'ika. Could cum like this. Could shoot my load down your throat, make you swallow me."

His hand went to your cheek, and the touch made you back off a little. He fully removed his cock from your mouth, ignoring the little pout you gave.

"But that's not what we both want right now, is it?"

You trembled and tingled with anticipation.

Thorn stood from where he had been kneeling on the bed, rounding behind you. Your eyes followed him, hooded and fluttering with arousal.

Thorn grabbed a pillow and placed it under you. He then pressed his hand onto your back, and you willingly let him push you forward until you were fully lying down, your breasts squished against the mattress and hips elevated by the pillow.

Presenting you to him.

His gloved fingers swept across your core, chuckling at just how wet you were. But he didn't press inside.

You tried to arc into him.

"Oh, no, cyar'ika, gotta keep you nice and tight, gotta keep all of me inside you. Gotta breed you."

You moaned into the blankets, both embarrassed at how turned on you were and desperate for him to be inside you.

"Thorn, please," you begged.

"Shh, cyar'ika," he said, not unkindly. He smoothed his hand down your back. "I'm here." He climbed back onto the bed, still in his full kit above you. You clenched at the knowledge that he was going to fuck you like that: you naked and writhing under his red and white armor.

You really didn't need any more prep at this point you were so wet.

And Thorn knew it, smirking lightly as he briefly slapped his cock against your pussy lips. You gasped and jerked a little.

Thorn leaned over you, the hard, cool plastoid of his chest plate just barely touching to your back. He braced himself on his elbow, curling his fingers towards your outstretched hand.

He nocked himself at your entrance.

You clung to his hand.

"Ready?" he murmured, a soft kiss being placed on the back of your head.

You smiled gently and sighed, "Ready."

Thorn speared into you. And promptly began to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Positioned like this, with Thorn practically mounting you, your legs and thighs pressed tight together, your back arched under him, you unable to do anything but writhe under the press of his armored weight, your pussy tight from the position and minimal foreplay, it was hard not to feel like you were already close to falling apart. Thorn thrust into you furiously, groaning deep into your ear each time you clenched and squeezed around him. You could barely make a sound, rendered silent by the stretch of Thorn's cock inside your walls. And the way he kept brushing over that spongy patch with each pass.

"Gonna fuck you so good, cyar'ika," Thorn groaned, gutturally, into your ear. "Gonna breed you so good. Gonna be so full. We're not stopping until I say, until I'm done. Gonna have the most pretty little swollen pussy, gonna be bred full, cyar'ika, gonna look so good..."

You gasped and choked, dizzy and clamoring for something... anything. Thorn lowered himself fully on top of you, his weight making you gasp and clench around him as his other hand gripped yours and held on tight. He continued to thrust, body glued to yours, his hips moving fiercely and his cock seeming to literally drag in and out of you. It was the most luscious, slick friction you'd ever experienced.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you were so close.

"Go on, cyar'ika," he whispered. He pressed his face into your temple, lips pursing against your skin into a kiss with every word. "Go ahead and cum. Cum so I can fill you up. Just like you wanted. Cum so I can breed you."

It was that word — breed, breed, breed — that sent you into a tailspin. And with a silent scream, your climax slammed into you.

He pumped unsteadily with each new wave of cum spurting out of him, and each new wave of warmth against your walls prolonged your own high. Heaving and clenching in what was the longest orgasm of your life, you milked Thorn for all he was worth.

There was a moment of calm.

Still pressed tight to your back, Thorn kissed your cheek tenderly and squeezed your hands reassuringly. His voice was quiet, but still dark and promising against your skin.

"Maybe you can call me 'daddy' next time."

Oh, you were so fucked.

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[kyovtani]

mean dom hinata? explain away honey 👁👅👁

you guys- when i tell you the concept of hard dom hinata is one of my favorites- idek what it is about the thought of having sunshines like him, suga or yams go brutally at me but it just makes me pussy throb so here you go ✨

a/n: i got a little carried away so this is a little longer haha 😀

— cw: hard daddy dom!shoyo, heavy degradation, mocking, teasing and dumbification, pussy slapping, choking and brief mentions of breeding <33

hinata shoyo is not really one who's constantly in his hard dom mood. he's also not a soft dom per se, but for him to become the mean, merciless dom you love oh so much, it does take a little bit of work.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

one thing hinata absolutely despises is when you visit him at practice, dressed in one of your tiniest little dresses and that one particular look on your face. he can tell the reason behind your little visit by the way you walk and talk once you've entered the gym him and his teammates spend most of their time in.

you visit him a lot, which he genuinely appreciates because he misses you a lot but can't really do anything about it because he has to practice to become an even better version of himself. however, when you come up to him with that smirk and certain kind of playful gleam in your eyes, he knows you're here to play your little games.

and then he just gets to watch the scene unfold.

you becoming incredibly handsy with atsumu and bokuto, two of his closest friends who, bless their hearts, simply can't hide the effect you have on them, especially if you're dressed like that. shoyo also calmly observes the way you talk to his captain, meian, the guy he looks up to, his mentor. he even finds it funny how you keep letting your hands graze over his big arms and even his abs, or laughing about his puns and jokes a little too much than you'd normally do.

in those moments, shoyo just smiles and calms himself down because he knows why you're acting like that. you've missed him and he hasn't had the time to give you the attention you deserve so you're here to get what you deserve.

even on the ride back home he does not say a word and that's when you know you've got him.

because the moment he steps through the door to your shared apartment, he slams it shut and wraps one of his big, calloused hands around your neck before he calmly pushes you against the wall.

and then, hinata just starts chuckling.

the sound of his deep laughter sends shivers of excitement and arousal down your spine and it feels like he's slowly setting your body on fire in a way only he's been able to.

he holds you like that for a good while, just giggling and shaking his head, meeting your desperate gaze every now and then as he applies more and more pressure on your delicate throat.

"you know what, puppy?", he begins, running a hand through his messy curls before he scratches the back of his undercut and then casually plays with the piercings in his ear.

"i actually enjoy these shows a lot", shoyo continues, his facial expressions slowly but surely hardening as he never once averts his gaze from yours all while his other hand pushes your tiny little dress all the way up your thighs, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air of the hallway.

"all the fake giggles and compliments whenever my boys say something, honestly – it's actually quite cute. i know how much tsumu- and bo-kun enjoy your little visits and even shu-kun gets all flustered when you keep telling him just how 'big' he is", hinata explains, the smile on his plump lips slowly fading away as he pushes his thumb underneath the waistband of your panties and casually rips it with one firm tug, not even caring about the little painful gasp you let out when the fabric lightly cuts your skin.

you just look at him with parted lips, your arousal slowly dripping down your inner thighs and your cunt clenching in absolute disgusting despair the longer hinata stares at you.

"shoyo, i-", "shut the fuck up", hinata is quick to quiet you down, the playful gleam in his big eyes burning with a fire of anger in just the right way; you've finally gotten him exactly where you wanted him, "not only wasn't i done speaking yet, you were also not granted permission to say anything, pet. so you stay nice and quiet for me, hm?"

you start nodding softly, a soft whine escaping your lips when shoyo harshly pushes his thick thigh in between your legs, right against your dripping cunt. your eyes roll into the back of your head at the delicious feeling of his strong muscle underneath you; your clit throbbing almost painfully when you slowly start rocking your hips against him.

"look at how fucking desperate you are to have your stupid little pussy fucked", hinata grunts, a deep, empty chuckle falling pst his lips before he lets go of your throat and takes your chin into his big hand to have you meet his strong, alluring gaze, "it's disgustingly pathetic."

"o-only for you, daddy", you whisper and dig your fingers into his tiny waist, holding onto him as your hips move on their own, giving your little clit just the right amount of stimulation to esse some of the pressure on your cunt.

"oh, really? o-o-o-only f-for m-me? yeah?", hinata replies, his mocking of your words sending you into the sweetest haze of pleasure and you can't believe you're about to cum from basically nothing.

"didn't look like that to me when you were basically offering yourself to my boys", he hisses, suddenly pulling his whole body away from you and with a soft yelp, you let yourself fall onto your knees; desperately pressing your thighs together in hopes of getting your ruined orgasm back, only to fail miserably.

shoyo looks down to you, his rock hard cock straining against the soft material of his sweats and the thought of his weight on your tongue, you whimper softly.

"i don't fuck you for what? two days? and you forget what manners are. have i fucked you and your stupid little pussy so dumb already? because it seems like you're not doing any of the thinking anymore, hm? but i mean, how are you supposed to when cock is all you seem to think about all day", his words ring in your head, echoing sonloudly it feels like he just yelled them right into your ear.

you gulp harshly, your hands finding the fabric of his sweats as you make your way up to him; the thought of having him fill you to the brim with his cock as he says even meaner things to you clouding your mind in just the right way.

"p-please", you whisper and look up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the arousal becomes overwhelming and the radical need to have him inside of you takes over your mind, "please, daddy, i n-need you to fuck me."

you start placing soft little kisses on his clothed cock, your eyes never once leaving his strong gaze as you enjoy the feeling of his length underneath your lips knowing oh too well that he's going to take it away from you a lot sooner than you'd expect him to.

"tsk, how unfortunate that i don't need to fuck you. i'll just use my fist and watch you beg for it before i cum all over your dirty little cunt and call it a night", he hisses, pushing the messy strands of his hair out of his face before he moves out of your grip and walks towards the living room.

and just as you're about to get up on wobbly legs, hinata raises his big, tattoo clad hand snd turns his head to the side, before he mumbles a soft, "don't you fucking dare to get up. if you want to behave like a needy little pet, you're going to be treated like one. so, you better stay the fuck on all fours."

by the time you come to sit next to him on the floor, hinata just groans, pushing his sweats and boxer briefs down his thick thighs and revealing his fat, precum leaking cock to your hungry eyes.

"sit on the coffee table", he grunts, sitting down on the couch as he wraps his big hand around his throbbing length and slowly starts stroking himself.

you nod softly, moving to sit on the little table with your juices covering your inner thighs and continuously dripping down your legs and without missing a beat, you spread yourself open for hinata.

"fuck, you're dripping everywhere", he grunts at the sight of your sopping wet pussy all spread okt for him and his words easily have your hole clenching like crazy, making more of your juices drip down to your ass.

"all y-yours, daddy", you whimper, watching the way hinata slowly bucks his hip into his fist, his precum slowly finding its way down the back of his hand.

"of course you're all mine, you stupid little slut", hinata scoffs and even though you see the way he lifts his hand, the suddenness of the harsh spank on your pussy still takes your breath away and leaves you whining and whimpering as the pain slowly spreads in your veins, mixing with the pleasure and basically leaving you high.

"you and this pretty pussy belong to me, puppy", he spits and casually lands another spank on your drenched folds, a loud moan falling pst your lips as the tears stream down your temples and find their way into the coffee table.

"now cut the crybaby shit and get on top of me, show me you're worthy of my cock and i might actually breed you."

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight.  This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.”  he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.��

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[spideyhexx]

whisker me away; b.b.

a/n: i love cats; hence a bucky fic involving cats. I do have a part two in mind where Alpine comes in, so if you want a part two let me know!

comments/reblogs/feedback is very much appreciated!!

bucky x female reader

masterlist

——————————————————————————

summary; bucky hangs out with you, his neighbor and you introduce him to your new pet.

WARNINGS: so fluffy. bucky interacting with a cat. kissing. heavy kissing. cat puns.

Still 18+ MINORS DNI; PLS RESPECT THIS!

word count: 2.4K

Bucky took the same walking route from his favorite coffee shop back to his apartment everyday.

He’d pass by a burger joint, where sometimes when he’s exceptionally hungry, he would pick up food for himself.

There was always that one part of the sidewalk that was cracked beyond repair and he’d anticipate it before it came into view. Everything was just the same.

What made it different was the people he would pass. Sometimes they’re arguing with people on the phone, or they look at his metal arm glistening against the sun or they walk so fast past Bucky that it makes him wonder where they are going.

Bucky’s coffee shop visits ranged from a few hours in the morning to a few hours at night.

On one particular evening that he slept in, Bucky decided to wait until later to visit the shop. It was a busy evening and he was not sure why. People, bustling in and out of the shop, yelling their orders over the noise of the chitchat from customers.

Bucky simply sat on one of the stools, drank his coffee, and read his book. However, the noise began to get too much and with only being there for an hour, he chose to call it a night.

Right as Bucky came to the cracked sidewalk, he noticed you in front of him, holding a multitude of bags.

You tripped and landed on your knees, your bags dropped all over the ground. A couple of onlookers gave you dirty looks and you squealed out sorries.

Bucky was quick to assist you. He squatted down to pick up some of your bags, groceries, he noted.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him and Bucky’s heart stopped at how pretty you were.

“Yes, uhm, kinda?”

Bucky laughed and held out his hand to pull you to your feet. You brushed your hands off on your clothes, shaking your hands out a bit, surely trying to get rid of the adrenaline rush that surged through you when you fell.

“Thank you. For helping…?”

“ ‘M Bucky,” he greeted.

“Y/N.” You smiled at each other.

That moment Bucky met you was obviously out of his daily routine.

And as you continued to talk, you found out you lived in the same apartment complex. So, he helped you carry the rest of your groceries to your home. He felt nervous to speak to you again after that.

Sometimes he’d send you little nods and sweet smiles when he saw you in the elevator or in the hallway.

Other times, you would spark a conversation with him, but they always ended too quickly for his liking. Bucky contemplated knocking on your door a billion times.

He would lay on his couch, staring at his own door, wondering if you would come to his place to hang out.

You were in the same exact boat.

The way Bucky smiled at you sent flutters all over your body to the point you’d think about his smile and the way your name rolls off of his tongue all day, every day.

You wanted to find the right moment to talk to him more, but nothing ever felt “right.”

That is until you adopted a little kitten. She’s the fluffiest cat you’ve ever seen and you were dying to melt over her with someone. With all your friends indefinitely busy, you thought it would be a great time to see if Bucky does want to hang out.

You knock on his door around noon, hoping he is home. He opens in after only a few seconds, seemingly a little bit surprised to see you.

“Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi, doll.”

Doll.

The name plays on repeat in your head as you get lost in his eyes. He’s only called you that once before and you had to take the coldest shower of your life to rinse off all of the heat it gave you.

“Y/N?” You snap out of your thoughts and glance over Bucky’s amused smirk.

“Sorry, uhm, I wanted to ask if you wanted to come to my place?” He raises his eyebrow and then nods.

“What will we be doing at your place?” He asks, as he walks deeper into his apartment to grab his phone.

“I got a kitten and I thought it would be fun to...you know...have someone over to see her,” you say and Bucky nods again.

“And you chose me?” He points at himself, walking out of his place and locking the door.

“Yep. You’re always brooding, I want to see if you go all soft for kittens.” Bucky chuckles and follows behind you as you walk to your apartment.

“We’ll see, doll. Don’t know if I like cats at all, if I’m being honest.” You stop in your tracks and spin around to face him, making him practically walk into you.

“What do you mean you don’t know if you like cats?! They’re the best creatures in the entire world.”

“Prove it to me, then,” he says, his voice a touch quieter than it was before. You nod your head defiantly before leading him to the door. As you unlock your door, Bucky leans against the wall next to it.

“It’s more that I’ve never had a cat, so I don’t have much experience with one,” he adds.

“Well, my kitten is an absolute love bug and I know you’ll fall in love with her. So much you’ll want to see her all the time.” I

t’s as though Bucky has a permanent smile on his face when he’s around you and it won’t stop making you giddy.

“Is this your plan for getting me to come over often? Make me fall in love with your pet, but then actively getting to see you here as well?”

You look at him, your eyes flitting down to his lips before quickly looking away.

You decide to not answer his question and you swear you could hear him take an intake of a breath as you open your door and lead him inside.

“Just sit on the couch, I’m gonna go find her.”

Bucky watches as you kick off your shoes and run into a separate room. The layout of your apartment is similar to his own, you just have a lot more furniture.

He likes the little bookshelf that lines the wall next to your television and he makes a mental note to ask you what your favorite book is. Bucky hears a quiet meow, followed by a bunch more.

“Buck! C’mere!” It shouldn’t do anything to him really, but hearing you call him ‘Buck’ was something so personal, yet felt so normal coming from you.

He usually gets annoyed when people refer to him as that, but if was being truthful, you can call him anything and he would be fine with it.

Bucky walks to where you stand in the kitchen, cooing down at the little, extremely fluffy kitten eating out of a bowl.

“His food smells gross,” he comments and you scoff at him.

“Of course it does, it’s cat food.”

The kitten eats fairly fast and then immediately walks towards your hand that’s stuck out to pet her.

“Her name is Bruiser.” She nudges her head against your hand.

“Bruiser?” Bucky questions, a light chuckle escaping his mouth at the rather, intense name.

“Yeah. Wanted to go for an unassuming name because in reality, she’s the sweetest. I mean look at her.”

He would admit the kitten is cute, especially with how content she looks as you scratch under her chin and then back up to her head.

“Go to the couch and call her name! She’ll lay on you!”

Bucky goes to sit on the couch, he’s a little stiff, still getting used to the fact that he’s in your apartment with you.

“Bruiser,” Bucky says softly, but he’s not sure how to exactly call for a cat to come onto his lap.

“Just be gentle with it. And pat your thigh!”

You’re sitting on your rug in front of him, cross legged and you pat your own thigh as you speak. Bucky’s view goes directly to your thighs, clad in shorts and that hug them so perfectly. He imagines they’re very comfortable and he moves his gaze when you clear your throat. You may have worn those shorts on purpose.

“Bruiser,” he says again and pats his lap as the kitten leisurely makes her way into the living room area.

She eyes up Bucky and walks over to him with ease. She rubs her head against his shin.

“That’s good! At least she’s not scared of you.” Bucky laughs and shakes his head at you, patting his thigh once more before Bruiser jumps up onto the couch.

Bucky sits back as she climbs into his lap and immediately snuggles into him.

“She’s warm,” Bucky comments, hesitantly placing his hand on her head to pet her.

“She’s going to heat up like a furnace in just a minute,” you mention, taking a seat on the couch next to Bucky.

For a bit, the two of you sit in silence, admiring Bruiser’s own love for sitting in Bucky’s lap. Her purring is loud and he nearly melts when she curls up even further against him.

“I’m going to have cat hair all over me, aren’t I?”

“Mhm. And you’re wearing all black so it’ll be even more noticeable.” Bucky sinks into your couch, noting how much more comfortable it is than his own. You reach to turn the TV on, finding some random movie.

“Would you wanna stay to watch this?” Bucky just nods at you and lifts one of his arms to lay around the back of the couch.

At some point, you decide to move closer to him, cuddling into his side. Bucky responds to this by dropping his hand so it’s over your shoulders, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your right shoulder. You scratch under Bruiser’s chin.

“She likes it when you do that,” Bucky mumbles and moves his other hand to pet Bruiser’s head.

“Do you think you like cats?”

“They’re lazy.” You chuckle at him.

“That’s the best part, just a pet you can cuddle with all day if you want to.” Bucky squeezes your shoulder and you let your head fall onto his.

“Want to hear a cat pun?”

“Oh god.” You giggle at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Bucky, my dear, I hope you whisker me away.”

“That was terrible” You lightly pat his chest.

“No it wasn’t! Here’s another, Bruiser here was found in pawsession of catnip.”

“I hate it.”

“No! You don’t! You’re literally smiling and practically trying not to laugh!” You poke at the corners of his mouth until Bucky does let out of the laugh he was holding in. You settle down from your laughter, worried to disturb Bruiser and start to pay attention to the movie.

It’s not that long before both of you drift off to sleep.

It’s hard not to when Bucky’s gentle touch soothed any nerves you still had and you thought Bruiser was a furnace, well Bucky was just as, if not more warm.

Bucky himself could rarely fall asleep in places other than his own home, but it’s easy to shut his eyes and fall peacefully asleep.

He wakes up when the credits were rolling on the tv from the movie you tried to watch.

Bruiser is no longer on his lap, but you’re curled even more against him. Your legs are bent and resting in his lap, head tucked into his neck.

One of your hands rests against his chest. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was move but even the slightest movement made you shift and your head lifts up from his chest.

“ We fell asleep?” You ask groggily, taking in his tired face.

“Yeah. Hope that was okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He sighs and goes to look away, but you bring your hand up to his cheek and gently turn his head back to face you.

“Didn’t know if it was weird for me to be sleeping here with you. Or you’d be mad we’re cuddling or-”

“Buck, I’m the one who initially cuddled up to you, it’s all good. I’m happy you’re here,” you admit and Bucky lets himself smile at that. Your hand against his cheek sends tingles down his spine and it’s hard to look away from you.

Your thumb rubs against his cheek bone and Bucky lets his head lean closer, resting his forehead against your own.

“Can I kiss you, doll?”

You nod, and Bucky presses forward, colliding your lips with his. Your noses bump as he turns his head to kiss you deeper, his hands moving to hold your head as yours fall to his chest.

His lips are warm and a bit chapped. They part slightly, allowing your tongue to slip into his mouth. One of his hands falls to the side of your neck, grasping softly. He was really kissing you.

Really kissing you. Bucky wasn’t sure if he still had the charm he had back in the forties, but whatever he’s done to get to be there in this moment with you, was very much enough.

“I like this,” you mumble against his lips and he smiles.

“Me...too.” He says, between kisses.

“Maybe you should….” another kiss, then another. You’re completely addicted to the taste of him already.

“Should what, honey?” A soft whimper escapes your mouth at the name and you scrunch his shirt in your first at the smirk he gives you.

“You should stay the night,” you get out, and Bucky pulls away to look at you, lips all wet and eyes gazing into him.

“Okay,” he whispers. Bucky leans in for another kiss, but is interrupted by a rather loud meow. You both turn to look at Bruiser who’s sitting on the coffee table.

“Not now Bruiser,” you shoo at her and she listens and runs off. Bucky’s laugh turns into a surprised grunt when you straddle his lap and pull him back in for a kiss.

His hands wrap around your waist and rub down to your thighs. He's been thinking about them since he first saw you earlier and hearing your soft sigh against his lips as his hands explore you is making him even more crazy for you.

Both of you could get used to this.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Umbra | J. Seo (m)

》 Genre: vampire au! Smut, fluff, minor angst and mentions of violence, This story also features Yuta, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Mark as his coven members

》 Warnings: spitting, dry humping, mentions of blood obvi, mentions of feeding, strong boy trying not to fuck you into oblivion, his eyes get black he's when he's hungry/horny, disgusting amount of fluff, omg sorta strength kink? Johnny is very in love w you and very protective cause some of his brothers are out of pocket, Jungwoo wants to b ur bestie lowkey, Yuta is a lil shit

Chapter 2 

There are many things that Johnny loves about you. He could spend all his time showering you with professions of his adoration, and he'd never grow tired of it. Though, his concept of time and yours are slightly different.

He's patient, excessively so sometimes, in your humble opinion. But, he also never expected in his three hundred and forty five years of existence, to find someone who manages to warm his cold and stagnant heart in the way you have.

Now, anytime away from you is a bit bothersome.

It's just, he never knew humans like you existed. In his world, there are either those who lust after his kind and the benefits in which their heightened senses and skills provide, or those who see him as a complete moral abomination.

Even now, in a society that has to live in conjunction with vampires, there are still so many people who fear him. Well, they fear what they think he is. A creature of the night, a demon, something that is only greedy for strife and nothing more.

You were the first person who genuinely throttled him, curious and wide eyed, completely fascinated by him. And not in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope, but in a way that made him feel as though he was something...to be admired.

Your heartbeat, even after a year, still flutters like the wings of dragonfly whenever he displays his strength; swinging you up into his arms like you're made of feathers and all things delicate.

At first, he thought you were scared, weary, perhaps, about his abnormalities. He couldn't find any other explanation for the way you seemed to shrink in his presence whenever he'd dip his head below your chin to grace your throat with his lips, cooling your hot skin.

It didn't make sense. Not until he realized there is a direct correlation to your change and scent, and these moments in which he can be himself around you.

You like it. You like that he's different, a complete opposite to what you'd find in the common world. If he thought he could be any more enamored, anymore breathless than he was before (no pun intended) he was wrong.

Even now, with you lying with your back against his hard chest, playing with his slim fingers, your voice is nothing but earnest. Curious, in your own little world that consists of just you and him.

He thinks, no he knows, that if he had a pulse it would be racing every time he's around you. Every time you ask him a question that would normally repulse anyone else, even when you place his cool palm against your blazing cheek, giddy about the difference in temperature. He can tell that you just want to know more about him, about how he exists in the world. He simply can't resist indulging you.

"So...everyone doesn't taste the same? I always just assumed that blood is, well, blood." He smiles to himself as you trace shapes into his palm, before flipping his hand over and grazing your fingertips over his protruding knuckles.

The feeling of your skin against his is so pleasant he almost gets distracted.

"Well, it depends, really," his free hand strokes up and down your arms, savoring the softness. "sometimes the difference is slight, like someone who's A or B negative, but other times it can be quite stark. It's about chemistry really."

He can already see your expression in his head, furrowed brows, lips pursed in a manner too cute for your own good. He absentmindedly pushes you further against his chest, reclining slightly against the pillows as to make it more comfortable for you. You hum in satisfaction.

"Chemistry? Like how you feel about the person?" He can't quite pinpoint what is laced within the lilt of your voice, he answers nonetheless, chuckling warmly.

The sound is like pure velvet, causing your skin to tingle. You shiver, and he pulls your blanket over you, worried his lack of body heat may be disturbing your comfort. He doesn't realize how wrong he is.

"It's more like, how that person has lived. Their natural...how do I say...essence? Yes, their essence sometimes can determine how desirable some ones blood is to us."

He doesn't miss the way your heartbeat falters in rythm. He grins, as you take both of his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers. He twists his wrist and brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing your skin.

You shift underneath the covers, suddenly thankful for his cool temperature. You know that most of the vampires that exist in society use blood bags from the banks provided, but you still wonder...

"Am I...am I desirable to you? Like, my blood, or whatever." You wish you could say you usually aren't so bad at speaking when you're around him, but that would be a blatant lie.

It's the most endearing thing he's ever witnessed.

His hands are gone from yours and elsewhere in the blink of an eye, one strong arm locked around your torso as his free hand reaches down to cup your chin. He turns and lifts your head towards him, gently, and the look in his eyes has your breath stalling momentarily.

"Of course you are, silly," he says it as if it's the most obvious thing ever, leaning down to peck your nose. Butterflies swarm violently in your belly. "I desire you in every way there is to desire someone, it makes me want to keep you all to myself. No one else should be allowed to even think about you, or your blood, in that way."

He looks lost in thought for a second, pupils almost darkening the whole of his irises, before he seemingly brings himself out of his daze. You turn in his hold, adjusting your position so that you're practically lying on top of him, chests touching and your legs cradled between his hips. He holds you effortlessly in his arms.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways, cause I'm all yours." His pearly teeth show from behind the pillowy surface of his lips, as he leans in to kiss you in a manner that has you reaching out to wrap your hand around the nape of his neck.

"Mhm, all mine." He murmurs, nose nudging against yours as he shifts back and forth from your top lip, and then your bottom, tongue exploring the surface of each.

Kissing you, is another experience entirely for him. He wonders if it feels for you as it does for him, like pure intoxication. It brings back memories, memories he didn't think could still be reachable in the depths of his mind.

A time where he was warm, where life thrummed through his veins like the rushing current of a river. You are springtime on his tongue, the rays of sunlight that once heated his skin, the smell of flora in the air that mingles with the fleeting breeze.

He almost whines when you depart from his mouth, yearning already heavy in the pit of his stomach.

You look almost nervous, suddenly finicking with the front of his shirt as you sit back on his lap. He can hear the acceleration of your heartbeat, can smell the anxiety that is almost as heady as your desire.

He reaches out to cup your cheek, something he often does as a comforting gesture. You smile softly, meeting his curious, tepid gaze.

"So...I have a question," your voice shakes and you huff. "I mean, I was just wondering," he senses your struggle, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up so that your chests are nearly touching again, his palms splayed against your lower back.

"You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that." His voice, as sweet as honey, calms your racing pulse for a moment. Until you actually say the words out loud, wincing as if preparing for a scolding.

"Well I know you have a family, of sorts, from what you've told me. And I know you've always been really...hesitant to tell me more about them? I mean I've never been over, to your home or met them,"

Understanding washes over him, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the glint in his irises provokes an odd sensation within your belly. Like he knew this conversation would have to be had one day.

He lets you finish speaking, though your voice has even more of a tremor than before, now.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, I understand if you don't want me over there."

Urgency calcifies in his chest, the sad lilt to your soft voice making him feel ill. The way you say it is as if you think he doesn't want you in his space, like he's keeping you away from there because of something other than rational reasoning, doesn't sit right with him.

He cups your jaw, firmly but gently.

"I want you with me as much as possible, never think that I don't want you. That is not at all why I haven't brought you over there," You have no choice but to believe him, when he's looking at you with such a passionate gaze far heavier than what you're used to in a normal setting, his words concise.

"I am...well I'm old, and so are they. I've spent a long time being alienated, far before we were even accepted in the new world. We've settled here since before you were born, so you won't remember what it was like when people were forced to live along side us."

You hate hearing the unusual grain of what seems to be dejection in his tone, though you listen fervently anyways, his hands still comforting you despite the fact that his eyes are the ones cast down. You want to kiss the furrow between his dark brows.

"I've accepted who I am, furthermore I've accepted who I want to be. I realized that, it would do me no good to be a monster if people were willing, even if begrudgingly, to accept our existence. But my brothers,"

Your stomach sinks at the way he says it, knowing without a doubt that this is the answer to your original question, that his stance had to be explained before he told you something like this.

"they don't feel the same way as me, so they are stuck in their ways beyond coercion. They live very different lives, they are what our kind refer to as nightcrawlers, it's sardonic inside joke for those of us that would rather not conform to the new age of mutual concurrency."

"They are still a bit resentful for the fact that they can't exactly give in to their natural instincts. They don't see the humans acceptance as welcoming, they see it as a mockery. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

You look a bit out of it, like maybe you're frightened and he's suddenly worried he's gone overboard, that he's scared you in a way that can't be fixed. His eyes are suddenly frantic.

But then you speak, and you don't sound vexed, nor unsettled. Your question is simple, your thighs tightening around his waist as if to draw yourself closer to his comfort, arms looping around his shoulders.

"Do they all feel that way?"

He smiles, muscles untensing as you play with his hair in the way you usually do. Your eyes never leave his, and he wonders how he got so lucky.

"The youngest, well the youngest in our years, they're a bit less malicious about it. They don't cross anyone unless someone crosses them, but they can be excessively territorial because of their youth."

The tension, despite talking about a topic so heavy, is light again. You feel a bit silly now, understanding why he might not want you in close proximity with his coven.

But, still, knowing that there are people, for lack of better term, that have been in his life unimaginably long; a completely different, solidified version of a family, it makes you more nosey than usual. Could they really be that different from him?

"And...you're sure that if I were to meet them, it would end badly?" His eyebrow twitches in an inquisitive manner, surprise coloring his sharp features.

"I- well I thought you were just curious, I didn't think you'd actually want to meet them. Especially after all of that,"

It's as if he's speaking to himself out loud, his pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You resist the urge to kiss him so suddenly.

"but I don't suppose so. It's already established that you're mine. If there's one rule we follow, it's that. They know how I feel about you, despite our differences."

The sturdiness to his voice when he speaks of you being his, has your belly filling with heat at an irrational rate, and you suddenly remember how it felt to see him before you actually got to know him.

He's incredibly intimidating on the surface, firm and stoic. You can't see how anyone would want to anger him.

"So then I'd be safe, meeting them. And I'd get to see if you guys really have furniture."

Despite not needing to, he swallows. It's hard impossible to say no to you, when you look at him like that and sound so genuinely interested at a prospect that would make any other person run for the hills, even cracking jokes.

You're soft, and too innocent for your own good. He should say no, but to risk seeing a pout form on your soft lips, or having to hear the disappointment in your voice, it's unbearable.

"You really want to meet them, don't you?" He can't fight his smile when your face lights up like that.

"Well, I think it's important. They're your family, one way or another." You're gentle when you speak, honest.

"You're safe with me, you have to know that. But they're...not used to being around humans that aren't just accessories. The last thing I want is for one of them to say something that makes you uncomfortable."

It's evident in the low timbre of his tone that he's serious, and any smart person might listen. But as he said, and as you believe wholeheartedly, you're safe with him. Safer than you'd ever be.

And, as wrong as it may be, you want to see what other vampires are like. You're really only used to Johnny, the exception, where as most modern vampires only come out when absolutely necessary. Meeting him, and falling in love with him, has given you a brand new sight towards the world. Is it that insane to want to meet his brothers that have been so close to him for so long?

"I'll be with you, so it won't matter. I'll bet they're not even that scary, no ones scarier than you."

Your triumphant, playful smile has him grinning from ear to ear, leaning down to capture your lips between his own. Even though you're wrong about them, he's weak. Too weak.

"Yeah? Afraid I'll eat you for breakfast?" His breath is suddenly against your earlobe and you shudder pleasantly, grasping onto his shoulders before regaining some sort of composure.

"I'm definitely dinner, breakfast is really overrated. Unless it's breakfast for dinner, that's way better for some reason?"

He's kissing you again, despite the fact that he's smiling too hard for his own good, swiftly flipping you over so that you're caged underneath his body. His weight is barely perceptible even with your chests touching, forearms holding himself up.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?" He has a hard time speaking without strain due to the way his throat has suddenly tightened with need, your legs wrapping around his trim torso and pushing his hips further against yours.

"Not possible, unless I've suddenly charmed your heart into beating again." You tease, though his eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration as he kisses you between words, dangerously sensual. You smell too divine.

"Very possible, actually. If you only knew how you make me feel."

Your belly lurches at the desperation that flows from him, his aura downright fever inducing. Without thinking, your crotch nudges his, bucking with the slightest of movements. But it's enough, enough to have his jaw clenching and a habitual breath of restraint leaving his nose.

Five fingers grasp your chin, so he can kiss you, hard. His hips begin to roll as his teeth nibble your bottom lip, the fabric of his jeans an arousing juxtaposition to your soft lounge shorts, your lack of underwear making it all the more satisfying.

He's hard, too. Knowing his dick is just underneath, hard for you, it'll never not give you whiplash. It gets you drunk, knowing your effect on him is as overwhelming as his on you. You're whimpering against his tongue, rubbing yourself on his bulge.

"Mmm, fuck." He growls, capturing your wrists in his palms before your next breath, raising them above your head and making sure they're comfortable against the pillows.

He's inches away from your face now, and his expression alone is enough to have your walls pulsing around nothing, desire seeping into your chest and hardening your nipples, goosebumps forming across your skin.

He looks at you like he's hungry, nostrils flaring avariciously. He tries so very hard to fight the darkness that fills his sclera like ink, knowing how very monstrous and unlike himself it makes him appear.

But he hears the way it makes your heart race. He can practically taste the thrill that seeps from your pores, the unbridled arousal that drips from your cunt like syrup. Your neck cranes upwards to try and reach his lips, and he smirks before meeting you halfway.

"Do you want me to keep rubbing your pussy like this," he looks down between your bodies and purposely rolls his hips in an accentuated fashion. "or do you want my dick?"

His voice is brusque, but caring and accommodating as it always is, his plump lips quivering slightly from the way his mouth waters.

"Can I have your dick, please?" You return, his mouth quirking up into a sideways grin.

"Such good manners," he kisses you again, sloppily, the sounds lewd and causing you to shiver against his unwavering body. "how could I ever deny you?"

You blink, and cool air is breezing against your wet slit, the nakedness sending a wave of tingles through your nerve endings. Before you can look down, you feel his cock against your clit, smooth and rounded tip gathering wetness from your hole before circling it over your clit.

He uses one hand to keep your legs parted for his viewing, fingers softly gripping your flesh as he sits back on his haunches. You feel impatience crawling up your throat, toes already curling as your bud throbs and your walls ache.

He's so pretty, he is raven hair against olive skin, an onyx sky against shimmering stars. Your hands reach out for his hips, delicate but fierce in their strength. He rubs his shaft against your folds, before prodding at your entrance.

He always watches your expression when he first slides in, the way your mouth falls open and you are suddenly this beautiful, agonizingly worked up thing. He bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flicker from your pussy, lovlier than a flower and welcoming him with a squeeze, to your face.

Your eyes are bleary as they stare back up at him, your breathing already erratic. His lip curls with the need to hiss, to ravage you. But he takes it slow, he loves watching you fall apart too much. And you're so wet around him, moaning his name like it's the only word you know.

"Johnnyyyy, oh - umph." He rocks into, gracefully and with a deliberate curl. You claw at the front of his tee shirt, pulling him down to your face.

He eagerly obliges, meeting your lips with a soft smack, the angle only pushing him deeper within your body. His pace has increased, the front of his thighs colliding with the back of yours. His mouth somehow remains steady, as if he's not fucking you like he is.

He's parting from you sooner than you'd like, but you know he likes to fuck you like this, able to see all of you and savor it. It's still the most incredible thing he'll ever witness or experience, he's sure of it.

He can't believe a creature like him could be so lucky, here with his manhood buried to the hilt inside of someone so breathtaking, so innately divine. Your essence is thick and wet, coating his shaft each time he pulls out.

"Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin' pretty baby." His voice is gruff, nose twitching and eyes black. You wrap your fingers around his strong, sturdy forearms as his hands grip the softness of your waist. His lips purse and a string of spit dribbles down your clit.

"Ungh, oh my- ohhhhh Johnny please please." You're not sure what your begging for, and it doesn't matter. Because he'll give you whatever it is you need before you know you need it, already hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your jaw and pushing it up so that he can mouth at your sensitive neck.

"Mmm, I got you baby, I'm right here," he takes your earlobe in his mouth before marking your throat, licking and sucking. "I can already feel your belly tensing sweetheart, gonna make a mess for me?"

All you can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut and hands exploring his firm abdomen while he pushes himself all the way into you; rocking his hips back and forth to make sure the tip of his cock is rubbing that sweet spot inside of you. Your clit is being stimulated in the process, and you know you're not going to last long.

He knows it too, and his thumb is suddenly on your swelling bud, rubbing you in circles faster than you can comprehend, but with just enough pressure to have your nails digging into his back with fervor. Having unbreakable skin must be a plus, in his case.

You're tensing more now, twitching even. Your energy is buzzing around him, electric. Your heart pounds like a drum, rattling against your ribcage and causing blood to thrum viciously throughout your veins. His thrusts become a bit more frantic, his senses completely overcome with you.

He's so lost in his own pleasure he doesn't even hear you cum. He feels you go limp underneath him, back arching off the bed and your walls spasming around his cock.

He realizes now that you're trying to shove your face in the pillows, a silent sob ripping through your body. He's pulling you to him, and you're suddenly in his lap, as he comforts you with a soothing coo.

When you move your face from the crook of his neck and he's met with your teary eyes and damp skin, he's thrown off the edge.

Your forehead is against his as he bites back a snarl of sorts, pumping into you from below with as much restraint as he can muster as to not overwhelm you since you've just cum as well.

He has to move his hands away from you for a quick second, opting for the bed sheets instead while you cling onto him and kiss his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He feels selfish, but he also doesn't want to crush your hip bones in such a state.

Your breathing is still uneven, even after several minutes and once he's sure that he's in his right frame of mind, his arms are around you again.

Your body is sweetly ravaged by his mouth, lips leaving a wet trail over too much skin in such a short amount of time. You're still sensitive, wincing as his enthusiasm causes you to shift on his lap.

"Oh." He uses one arm to wrap around your middle, slowly pulling you off of his dick and lying you down against the comforter.

You whine at the loss of contact as he disappears, returning in a blur with a warm, damp cloth. He's in between your legs, wiping away your shared mess and muttering soft sorrys when he's just a smidge too rough. You're still embarrassed by his need to take care of you like this, bashfully looking away.

You don't realize he's gone and returned until the covers are being thrown over your body, his arms securing you to his solid chest and his lips against your ear.

"You need sleep, don't argue." He kisses the back of your head and you smile to yourself, snuggling further against his figure. You feel like you're being warmed from the inside out, despite how cool his skin is against yours.

"M'not gonna argue, you made me tired," The thump of your pulse and the shy lilt to your voice satisfies him, and he wishes that he could make love to you all over again.

"When will you take me to go meet the others?" Your speech is already slightly slurred with sleep, a yawn following. He sighs, kissing behind your ear.

"Give me until tomorrow night, I need to discuss a few things. Then we'll go, I promise."

He wishes that this could be a more exciting prospect for him, that in the back of his mind he weren't, for the first time in a long time, genuinely worried about how his brothers might react.

It's got nothing to do with his capability. Without question he will keep you safe, his strength is comparable to the eldest and he'd forge fire if it meant having you whole and in his arms.

But his coven, they're different than what he knows you're expecting. He knows that because of primal, and ancestral rules that they will not lay a hand on you.

If he's honest, it's more so what might come out of their mouths that worries him. He can't have them slip up and say something they're not supposed. It'll kill him if there's even one crease of worry or sadness etched onto your pretty face. He won't allow it.

But if it's important to you, it's important to him. You're here, asleep in his arms, and he's certain that if he had a soul, he would trade it if it meant another lifetime of your existence.

•

Johnny isn't next to you when you wake up, which isn't a particularly uncommon occurrence. It's just that normally he'd let you know beforehand, even shaking you awake sometimes just to mumble a be back soon in your ear, despite the fact that you're half asleep.

You reach over to your bedside table to grab your phone, clicking it on and feeling a bit less tense realizing he's left you a message. You smile.

Sorry I had to leave so early, sweetheart. I'm speaking with my brothers and getting some things taken care of. Don't worry. I love you and I'll see you soon. xx

He must be serious, about the way they behave. It's not that you don't believe him, you'd just rather see the positives, in whatever way you can. It's a little bit startling to think about today, if you're honest. Especially after such an all consuming night, the sun now too bright in your eyes, the scent of Johnny still on your sheets and clothes.

You feel anything but dark and dreary when you think of him. That's not to say he's not quite scary if you don't know him. Broad and towering, gaze low and piercing in a way that'll have you looking away nervously if he were to make eye contact with you.

But you can't imagine him as anything but what he is, beautiful and lively and kind, soft around the cold hard edges.

You stretch as you rise from your bed, joints popping as you pull yourself onto your feet. You wince slightly, realizing between your thighs is still fairly sore, ghosts of his touch lingering on your heated skin.

You and Johnny don't have sex incredibly often, at least not by normal human couple standards. It's pretty obvious why. His ability to control his strength, his desire, his thirst; in that state, as he has explained, it leaves him a little bit frayed.

It's not like you're not satisfied anyways, he's more than generous with his mouth and fingers, and despite the fact that he holds nearly half of his full vigor back when the two of you are intimate, it's still a little bit throttling for you afterwards.

The day is boring without him, quite frankly, but despite whatever you may think about it, you still respect his decision to plan ahead for your visit.

You do get it, it's not that. If anything, you just feel too safe with him. To the point where you sometimes feel invincible in his arms.

It almost makes up for the fact that you don't get to show him off as much as you'd like, as silly as it sounds. His kind can go out in the sun, but it's a bit bothersome after a while from what you've heard. He is almost a cliché in that department, most days either spent with him in doors or at night.

Sometimes, though, you wonder what it would be like if he were human. It wouldn't make a difference, you're sure of that, because he'll always be your Johnny. But the thought does venture into your mind every now and then, because of the way he speaks of his humanhood. As if he's trying not to admit how much he misses it.

You often wonder what he must have looked like when he could blush, with his vibrant smile on show, and dimples high on his soft cheeks.

A small, selfish part of you envies the people who might have gotten to witness him like that. Warm, a little uncoordinated maybe, eyes topaz in the sun. He must have been a sight to behold, throughout his human life.

Deep down, a part of you knows that, that is what this whole thing with his brothers boils down to. You're not just curious, you're madly in love with him. So much so that when he's away, it does feel uncomfortable. You never believed people when they spoke of love that way, you always thought it to be quite gross, actually.

And maybe you're just a silly little human with silly little feelings, to be so smitten after a year. But there's no going back now, he's a part of you, so of course you think about how much of him you've never gotten to see. Of course you want to meet any tangible part of his incomprehensible life, his family. Even if it's not conventional.

It leaves an odd pit in your stomach, thinking of him young and youthful, thinking of his mother and father and the life that they had created so many lifetimes ago.

You think of him at eighteen, maybe still plush in some areas not yet tainted by the work of adulthood. Had he ever been in love, back then? You swallow back the irrational bitterness you suddenly taste.

You think of him at twenty, and what he might have been passionate about. What life was even like for him. You think of his first kiss, and him at twenty four, a year before his life as what he is now, began.

Truthfully, you don't know a lot about him. It's a strange, sudden realization, but it's just never really mattered in all honesty. Because you know him, how he is now, which is all you'll ever get and is more than what you could've ever asked for.

You've always felt like it's different because his existence in itself has been so tremulous, and in a lot of ways very hard to talk about without it getting uncomfortable because of all that he has lost, or subsequently reminding him of what he is.

Never things he'd admit out loud, but definitely something you've picked up on in his expression or the wistfulness in his voice. It doesn't matter, to you; the bad parts. He's yours, and somehow you two have found each other despite so many centuries vouching on never having met one another at all. You wish you could truly express to him how nothing would ever stray you away.

You've showered and eaten an inadequate dinner by the time Johnny shows up, presence barely perceptible until he's wrapping his strong arms around you from behind.

You're used to it by now, not even flinching anymore. You melt instantaneously, placing your hands over his that are resting around your waist.

"Hi." He whispers, lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and let out a giggle, turning in his grasp to get a kiss. He's on your lips before you even have to lift yourself on your tippy toes.

"Mm, hi." You mumble, hands cupping his jaw. You hum as he pulls you closer, spinning you so that you're pressed against the counter, his hand on the small of your back blocking you from the hard edge.

"We could stay here, you know," he smiles against your mouth, half teasing and half serious. "a change of plan never hurt anybody."

The idea is actually tempting.

"But I just showered." You pout, and his hands are rubbing your sides, eyes contemplative.

"You're right, you shouldn't go over there smelling anymore enticing than you already do, anyways." He says it with a grit of his teeth, as if the mere thought bothers him.

You're too distracted by his face to really absorb what he's saying, smiling up at him, practically beaming. Before he can quirk his brow and boop your nose with the tip of his finger, you kiss him again.

It's chaste, but it's sincere.

"You're so cute when you're all disgruntled." You state, throwing your arms around his neck. He snorts, shaking his head and licking his heart shaped lips lips out of habit.

"I'm not disgruntled, I just want this to go well." He replies, broad shoulders slumping. You unhook your arms from around him to grasp his hands, large and welcoming in yours. He intertwines your fingers.

"It will. Because I'm with you." It's simple, and undeniable. He knows that, and accepts defeat when he sees how truly bright the gleam in your eye is. You're his own little sun. 

During the drive to his home, Johnny takes this time to give you some much needed insight on the creatures you’ll be meeting. He gives you their names, some key characteristics so that you won’t be startled by their behavior, but he doesn’t give you their ages. He simply refers to the one named Yuta as the oldest, and Mark as the youngest. 

“Youngest and oldest in vampire years or..?” You ask, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile at your interest. You forget to focus for a moment, tracing the planes of his side profile with your eyes. 

“Yuta was my age when he was changed, but he is, in our terms, the eldest. Mark is the youngest both in the factors.” His thumb strokes the back of your knuckles where your clasped hands rest on the center console, though it doesn’t soothe all the burning questions that you’ve decided need to stay in your head, for now. 

You think of mark first, something about his youth, despite the fact that he is centuries older than you, seeming a little bit less intimidating. Almost abstract, in a way. As he describes the youngest, it’s easy to picture a boyish smile, innocence. Until he throws in the fact that the ones that get changed before the brain is fully developed, tend to be the ones with more of an unsteady grasp on their more potent emotions. You can guess what that means, and he suddenly regrets ever opening his mouth. 

Johnny almost debates whether or not he should turn the car around and forget about this occasion all together, growing anxious at your monotone expression and the way you are chewing the skin of your bottom lip, and not realizing you are just lost in deep thought, not perturbed or uncomfortable. 

Really, you are just trying to make out what his brothers may be like. Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung. For some reason, it’s the thought of meeting Yuta that seems the most daunting. Despite the fact that he is Johnny’s age, not technically but anyways - knowing that he has been around for so long has you wondering how a person like that even thinks. 

Maybe you should've listened to your boyfriend. No, you're brave. But sometimes you are not very smart.

You are pulled for your reverie of sorts when your surroundings become darker, gloomier in the way that the trees seem to shield the road ahead from the sun, forming a canopy from above and casting misshapen shadows across the ground.

You don’t realize you’re clutching his hand tighter until Johnny turns to look at you with worried eyes, all the stars and every wish that he could ever grant you swirling in his chocolate irises. 

“Are you alright? We can turn around and-” 

You shake your head in defiance, determined. You aren’t going to back out now, not when you can already see the house from around the bend, pillars high and spiraling, a wide balcony peeking out from behind the trees. 

“I’m perfectly fine, promise.” you give him a soft, reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he knows you’ll likely scowl at him if he keeps insisting on your indifference, so he takes the car just a little bit further, rounding a bend and stalling before cutting the engine. 

The house is a lot more grand that you’d previously expected, the outside still kempt but not as pristine. Mostly, you thought that it would offensive to coin their home as something dark and menacing, not wanting to contribute to the cliché. But, it does in fact feel as though you are walking into a lair.  

It’s beauty is undeniable, though, despite the lack of real warmth that it exudes. Upon entering, wide open space greets you, black marble flooring underneath your boots and a staircase straddling either side of the entryway. Above it is a balcony, hanging over the foyer from the second floor. 

“So I was correct, about the furniture.” You murmur, pressed against his hard side with your arms wound around his forearm despite the fact that the house is seemingly empty. You know that it’s not, though. Any living being who walked into this house would be able to feel it, the static that seems to raise the hair on the back of your neck. 

“You'll have to forgive our complacency when it comes to interior design,"  

The voice seems to appear out of nowhere, melodic and smooth and echoing off of the walls in a way that makes the direction of the sound imperceptible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone making their way down the left staircase, gliding more so than walking. 

"So many years leave us comfortable, rather than fashionable."

Two figures float behind him, while three others descend down the opposite staircase. You could've sworn you'd only glanced at Johnny for half a second, before they suddenly materialized.

The man is suddenly right in front of you, and your eyes act as if they have no choice but to meet his, your breath stalling. It reminds you of the first time you saw Johnny, how shocking it was to be faced with such inhuman beauty.

"My name is Taeyong, it's lovely to meet you." The creature flashes a bright smile, something unreadable in his sharp eyes. His quaint lips are mischievous, or maybe you're just paranoid.

You don't have a chance to respond, already surrounded by a group that seem oddly eager to meet you despite what Johnny had warned, their gate an obvious contrast to your boyfriends. 

They seem to sway effortlessly rather than stand perfectly still, their proximity closer than that of strangers. The energy around them feels unpredictable, and without thought your hand tightens around Johnny's.

"Wow, she smells good." A voice muses from the group, and you follow it to find a face that you somehow automatically know belongs to Mark. His face is youthful, eyes wide and full of glee and then a bit amused, due to what you can assume is from your boyfriend glaring at him sharply.

"No wonder he's so attached." The boy beside Mark, with dimples as deep as you've ever seen, hums to his friend.

"Please, don't be so crude, children. She is our guest." This voice is authoritative, the timbre low but the tone gentle like the stroke of a feather.

The group seems to make way for him without thought, and again, you're instantly struck with recognition simply by his presence alone.

He approaches you without caution, you blink and he's suddenly right there. His hair is longer than the others, curling around his prominent chin and framing his elegant features.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, we've heard so much about the little human that's enamored our dear brother." You can't look away from his cunning face, his eyes are almost wild in excitement, plush lips stretching across his face to reveal a million wat smile.

He extends his hand towards you, with a bit more reserve now - and the first thing you notice are the sharp, glossy black nails that are more akin to claws, formed into stilettos at the tips of his delicate, slender fingers.

"Careful." Johnny mutters to his brother through his teeth, the man giggling in amusement as he gently takes your hand in his. You hadn't even realized you'd extended it back, his skin almost colder than Johnny's if possible.

"Tsk, so worried. For what reason? Look, I'm being as gentle as a hummingbird. Her hands are so soft."

Yuta. It's undeniable, he's too confident, bemused by this whole ordeal and even more so by the way his brother has stiffened beside you, pulling you back just a fraction of an inch.

The elder sighs wistfully, allowing your hand to drop from his. He meets your eyes once more, your skin buzzing oddly.

"My name is-"

"Yuta. I-I know, I mean I guessed."

It's the first word you've spoken to any them, and your voice is shakier than you'd like, throat dry. The mans lips twitch into a grin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clasps his hands together in a stunned manner.

"Wow, perceptive you are. So sure, despite appearing so meek."

You can't decipher his tone, worried that maybe you've messed up by interrupting him. He seems a bit perplexed, in a curious way. You're grateful for a new voice introducing themselves, directing your attention elsewhere.

"I'm Jungwoo," His voice is the most welcoming. "your skin is so pretty. Is that weird to say?" He mutters the last part to the slender, inquisitive man beside him, who's features are similar to that of a feline. He seems indifferent.

But, for the first time since you've arrived, you smile, an odd sense of relief flooding through your nervous system. You feel Johnny relax as well, and you glance up at him for just a moment, to see him already looking down at you.

"It's nice to meet you, Jungwoo," The jubilent vampire flashes you a smile. "all of you, really. Thankyou for welcoming me into your home."

"Of course, doll. Should we give her a tour?" Yuta speaks and Johnny responds almost a heartbeat after the elders suggestion.

"I can do that, give her some space." His voice is polite but firm, and Yuta giggles again, while the others back up a bit. Johnny readjusts his grip on your hand and begins moving towards the right staircase, turning his head to send the rest a look you can't see.

He leads you down the left corridor into a massive hallway, the walls a deep shade of plum, floors white marble instead of black like the ones downstairs.

Once you're out of view from the rest, he stills, turning towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

"I'm sorry about that, really." His eyes are apologetic and you snort, embracing his middle and kissing his chin.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine, they were fine."

He lets out a sigh, broad shoulders slumping as he does so. He believes you enough to not keep on, pressing his lips to your forehead before continuing his non informative tour.

"I wish they'd keep at least some of their thoughts to themselves," you're turning, brought down another lengthy hall with a massive picture window framing the north wall. Heavy burgundy curtains keep the sun from shining through the glass.

To the left is another set of stairs, small in comparison to the ones you've seen so far, framed with elegant railing. "this is my room, up here." He points to the door that sits right at the top of them, lonesome and heavy looking.

Your heartbeat is suddenly loud in your own ears, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of being in a space that belongs to him. He senses this, and smiles to himself as he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pushes it open.

Everything about his room is inherently Johnny. It's simple, but so very him.

The atmosphere is completely different to what the rest of the house provokes, the floors a deep cherry red, hardwood. A round, red rug sits in the middle of the room, a leather sectional nestled in the corner to the right. Beside it hangs rows of shelves with a multitude of books, more than you'd normally see lounging in some ones room. He's probably read them all three times over by now.

He has a television, which shouldn't make you giggle as it does. It's far bigger than necessary, taking up almost all the space on the eastern wall. There's a door almost adjacent to the one you entered from, which you presume is the bathroom.

"I love it, it's so comfortable in here." You muse, trotting towards the sectional and throwing yourself on the massive sofa. He chuckles, sauntering towards you and lifting your head so that he can place it atop his lap.

He can't lie to himself, it makes him ache in the most pleasant of ways to have you here, in a place that has been his only real peace since he's met you. Well, scratch that. You are his only safe haven.

"Yeah?" He replies, scratching your scalp lightly, studying the softness of your features as you gaze up at him, elated.

"Mhm, it feels like stepping into a different house entirely. Not that I have an issue with the interior design." You playfully mock his brother Taeyong’s earlier words, and laughter bubbles from your boyfriends throat.

"You don't think it's too melancholy? The house, I mean."

You shake your head indifferently, hair ruffling against the material of his jeans that are covering his thick thighs.

"To be honest it is quite....vampire-y, but it's elegant. And big. And knowing you live here makes it not seem so dark."

His hands are suddenly cupping the area just underneath your arms, effortlessly pulling you up so that you're straddling his lap. Your thighs find their place immediately, knees squeezing his torso.

"You're too good. Too pretty to be in a place like this." Despite his tone his eyes are formed into crescent moons from his smile, and you don't fight the urge to kiss him.

"Shush, or I'll battle you to the death." You mumble, his nose nudging your cheek as he tilts his head to move in a steady rythm with your mouth.

"Mm, think I beat you to it." He teases, and you can feel his smile. You're not in the frame of mind to scold him for that one.

Naturally, without even thinking, your body heats up fast from the way he kisses you. Even if he's trying to be chaste, it always ends up with a flame being fed by his tongue. His scent, the sensation of wholeness when you're surrounded by him.

Especially now, in the comfort of and quiet of his room when all you can hear is the smack of your mouths, steady and calculated. You're encapsulated by everything that belongs to the person you love.

A soft push to your shoulders has you humming in confusion, you're still not back on earth when you break apart to see the contrived, reluctant expression that twists his face.

"We can't - not here." He strains, very much so aware of way your hips are planted so firmly against his, the sweet scent of blood that rushes like a current through the area between your thighs.

You pout, and instinctually he's cupping your face between his palms, kissing it away. His fingertips graze the shell of your ear. 

"Don't give me that look, you know why I'm saying no. If they thought you smelled good before, you'd be the finest of dining options if you walked down there wet."

Your body pulses with arousal, arousal that he can practically taste on the tip of his tongue. A petulant whine slips from your throat, while your palms graze his hardening length through his jeans, and his cock twitches.

Fuck. He really can't deny you, can he?

[ao3bronte]

when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different. 

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck. 

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

~

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.” 

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties. 

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush. 

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers! 

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!” 

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!” Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?” 

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

[headcanonsandmore]

“Stress Relief” 

Summary: Ron and Hermione have some fun with each-other on Valentine’s Day.

Tagging: @princesserica84 

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Read on AO3

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Warning: The following fic contains scenes of an s*xual nature and is not ace safe.

Hermione awoke gradually, in that way she always did on mornings when she didn’t have to work. Weak February sunlight was reaching into the room.

The bushy-haired witch sat up dimly in bed, rubbing her eyes.

Rose and Hugo were both over at the Burrow for a few days, on Ron’s suggestion. The kids had been excited to spend time with their grandparents, and Hermione had certainly not objected to spending several days alone with Ron, even if she did miss her kids.

Speaking of which… where was Ron?

Sliding her legs over the side of their large king-size bed (Ron had loved the pun), Hermione could distantly hear the sounds of plates being loaded up downstairs, and then the gradual creak of the carpet on the staircase.

‘Hey, sleepy head.’

Ron looked, as ever, utterly gorgeous. His red hair was tousled from sleep and… other things they’d gotten up to last night.

Hermione smiled, both at her husband and at the memory.

‘Morning, handsome,’ she said, as Ron walked into the room, carrying a tray laden down with breakfast food. ‘Not like you to leave me alone in bed.’

‘Wanted to get breakfast sorted,’ Ron said, his ears flushing a little at her flirtatious tone. ‘If I’d woken you up, we would have never gotten out of bed.’

‘True,’ Hermione giggled, propping their pillows up against the headboard. ‘But what’s the occasion?’

‘Fourteenth of February,’ Ron said, sitting down next to her. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot it was Valentine’s Day? After everything we got up to last night?’

Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘Forgive me, love,’ she purred. ‘I guess my brain got disengaged from getting so thoroughly ravished.’

Ron’s adams apple bobbed in his throat.

‘Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘I thought you’d be hungry for food, not for me.’

‘What can I say?’ she giggled, feeling his pyjama bottoms begin to swell. ‘I like to switch things up occasionally. How about you? Hungry for me?’

As if in response, the breakfast tray was banished to the floor nearby. Ron’s wandless magic tended to react to strong emotions.

Hermione squealed happily as Ron flipped her onto her back on the mattress, before pressing his lips to hers.

‘You know it, Mrs Granger-Weasley.’

The look in his eyes was so warm and caring that Hermione tangled her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him. With a knowing chuckle, she felt Ron throb against her.

Pulling away, Ron scrambled backwards, and grabbed the bottom of Hermione’s nightdress.

‘Now, let’s get this pesky thing out of the way…’

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as Ron pulled her nightdress up to her midriff, his hands sinking into the soft flush of her thighs. Ron seemed to have rather liked the changes her body had gone through after having two kids. He said she was… what was it… curvy for days?

Not that she was complaining. He certainly wasn’t. As he was making very clear with what he was currently doing. Mmmm…

‘Oh… god…’

Chuckling to himself, Ron fingers began to trace patterns along her skin, as his mouth began pressing kisses to her lower stomach. Hermione felt her chest begin to heave, the lacy pattern of her night attire clinging to the perspiration that was now covering her skin. Merlin, she loved the way Ron could send her into blissful oblivion with such expert handling. He really seemed to know her body so well. Which made sense, after almost a decade of marriage.

‘R-Ron…’ she gasped, her voice breathy. ‘Y-yes… ohhh….’

‘Hermione…’

With a husky growl, Ron pulled her knickers down her legs. She heard the sound of the material being dropped off the bed.

Hermione squealed again, as Ron’s tongue began to explore, sending delicate shivers up her spine as one of his hands drifted up her torso.

‘R-Ron… wait, let me…’

Sitting up slightly, Hermione hurriedly pulled her nightdress over her head, and threw it aside. Now completely naked, she fell back down on the mattress. Her eyes flipped over, to see Ron throwing his pyjama bottoms aside. He towered over her, his eyes glittering with passion.

‘Merlin, you drive me wild, Hermione…’

Her chest heaving, Hermione spread her legs.

‘Now, Ron… hurry!’

Ron surged forward, and Hermione gave a gasp as she felt herself be filled. Her legs curled around Ron’s back, as she pressed herself closer to him. Fuck. This was something that never got old, no matter how much time passed. He loved her, and she him. After almost ten years of being married, and over five years of dating before that, they really did know each other inside-and-out. Which made moments like this especially brilliant. Ron knew exactly which spots to hit, and she knew what got him going too.

Fuck, she loved him.

‘Oh… Ron… fuck…. god…’

‘Hermione…’ Ron moaned, one hand sinking into the flesh of her arse. ‘Yeah…. fuck….’

Their lips pressed together, as one of Hermione’s hands became entangled in his beautiful red hair, the other clawing into his back in an effort to get even closer to him physically.

Hermione felt the fire of passion burning through every molecule of her being. God, this was amazing! Fucking amazing!

‘Ron… y-yes… keep… keep going…’

‘Y-you almost there?’

‘Y-yes… almost…’

‘M-me too… oh, fuck… ‘Mione…’

Ron gave one last thrust, before he exploded inside. Hermione gave a deep moan as her own orgasm erupted through her, her legs clamping tightly around Ron as he continued to buck against her.

Slowly, their breathing eased, and Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘Damn…’ he breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘We’re getting better at this, aren’t we?’

‘Definitely,’ Hermione gasped, relaxing against him. ‘Must be not having to worry about the kids knocking on the door halfway through.’

Ron chuckled, easing himself out of her, and sitting up against the headboard. Picking up his wand from the bedside table, he summoned the breakfast tray from the floor. Hermione sat up next to him and took a plate that he passed along to her.

‘Well, I thought that was rather a nice way to wake up,’ Hermione said, snuggling into his side as she began to chew on her slice of toast. ‘Very good stress-reliever.’

‘Definitely,’ Ron said, putting an arm around her and not-so-subtly cupping one of her breasts.

‘You are a tease,’ she giggled, enjoying the feeling of his expert hand against her areola. ‘Anyone would think you were trying to keep me shagged out all day.’

‘Says the person who seduced me after I made them breakfast,’ he retorted. ‘Besides, we’ve got all day to ourselves. After we’re fed and watered, how about we enjoy some more stress relief?’

‘I’m not sure…’ Hermione said, slowly, as she chewed. ‘I mean… we did get rather sweaty…’

‘We have a magically-extended bath,’ Ron said, knowingly. ‘And we do have that sudsy stuff we got each-other for Christmas...’

Hermione giggled, as Ron warmed her coffee cup with his wand and handed it to her. Stress relief was definitely a good thing. Especially on Valentine’s Day.  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Valentines Day, everyone; thanks for reading! Hope you liked this little fic!

[simplee-dreaming]

Punny

This is a Ler!Sirius and Ler!Remus tickle fic. Posted on my main account first but I’m quite proud of this one so it’s being posted here too. 

Summary: The reader keeps making bad jokes so Sirius and Remus have a way of shutting her up...

Word count: 1599

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

You’ve been friends with Harry Potter since the second year of Hogwarts. Being in the same year as Ginny meant you two bonded fairly well and as you grew older, you grew closer to Harry. He was like a brother to you. Everyone around you felt like your family, especially the Order of the Phoenix which Harry introduced you to. 

Sirius was Harry’s godfather but he often treated you like a god-child too because of how close you were to Harry. Remus was Sirius’ best friend so he was often there to join in the fun. Sirius and Remus were so much fun to wind up, they would often either join in with insulting each other or gang up on you.

Today you were feeling extra cheeky. The Order was gathered at 12 Grimmauld Place for a meeting which had only just finished so you made your way to the living room to join Sirius, Remus, Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Fred and George. They were discussing Fred and George’s new range of joke sweets. 

“I love jokes” you said, sitting down on an empty chair.

“We’re well aware of that Y/N” Ginny said, smiling at you. You turned to Ron.

“Hey Ron, don’t ever interrupt someone working intently on a puzzle”

“Why?” Ron asked

“Because you may get some crosswords” 

Everyone groaned which made you giggle.

“Y/N stop telling bad jokes” Sirius warned. You just smirked at him and continued. 

“You know, I’m a big fan of whiteboards. I heard they’re remarkable”. Everyone groaned again, Remus laughed aloud. Sirius glared at you.

“Really?” he asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh I’m deadly Sirius” you looked back at him, determined not to smile.

“Y/N, I’m warning you,” he said sternly. Remus chuckled softly to himself at your remarks. 

“What about you Remus? Don’t my jokes make you howl with laughter?” 

Remus stopped chuckling and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me?” he asked. 

“Maybe you’re just unaware of how funny I am. Hey! You’re an unaware-wolf!” 

Fred and George both snorted at how bad that joke was. 

“Y/N….” Remus said sternly 

“Yes?” you replied

“You know Remus, I think a certain little miss is after something” Sirius said, a playful glint in his eye that made you nearly smile

“Sirius, I think you may be onto something” Remus said, now smirking at you.

Your heart began pounding as both of them stood up.

“TIme to teach this cheeky madam a lesson” Sirius said, reaching to grab you but before he could you had launched yourself out of the chair and legged it out of the room.

“Y/N! GET BACK HERE YOU CHEEKY SOD” You heard Sirius scream as you ran all around the house giggling. 

“OH WE ARE SO GONNA GET YOU!” Remus shouted, also chasing you.

You bolted into one of the rooms and tried to shut the door but you didn’t realise how close both men were until they blocked you from closing the door and burst in. You slowly backed away from them, the nerves were starting to build as both of them smirked. 

“Looks like someone’s in a lot of trouble” Sirius cooed. In one swift move he picked you up, threw you onto the bed and straddled your waist. 

“Remus! Get her arms, she’s in enough trouble as it is without her blocking my skilled fingers” 

Remus battled with your flailing arms and pinned them above your head with his knees, he was now towering over your head whilst Sirius was still pinning your waist. 

“Now then missy, I think you’ve got some apologising to do for those god awful puns” Sirius said, his hand resting on your tummy.

“I won’t apologise, I’m having Sirius fun” you said. You knew in that moment that you had done it for good, but it was worth every word. Sirius sighed at you and exchanged looks with Remus, who was trying so hard not to smile at your joke. 

“Watch it Y/N, you know how good Sirius is, you don’t want to wind him up further” Remus warned

“Hey Sirius I think this place may need redecorating...it’s looking a bit Black” 

Remus scoffed at your joke but Sirius growled.

“I did warn you Y/N”. Sirius dragged his hand down your side, slowly wiggling his fingers. You squirmed a bit but clamped your mouth shut, determined not to give them the satisfaction. Sirius’ other hand joined in on the other side, now ten sets of nails raking down your ticklish sides. You squirmed and squealed, not being able to move much with them both pinning you down. 

“What’s the matter Y/N? Ticklish?” Sirius asked before shaking a hand in the centre of your tummy. You arched your back and let out a muffled scream, determined not to open your mouth. Sirius noticed you were trying to hold back the laugh so he decided to attack. Both hands scribbling up and down your sides and across your tummy, you couldn’t hold it any longer and screamed out.

“NOHOHOHO WAIHAHAHAIT” 

“You had your chance missy, now we’re going to tickle an apology out of you” 

“REHEHEHEHEMUS HEHEHEHEHELP” You pleaded to Remus, whose caring eyes were looking down at you. He gave a sympathetic smile as you cried his name. 

“Alright Sirius ease up, I can’t watch her suffer” 

Sirius stopped tickling you and looked at Remus, his face looked as confused as yours. 

“Sorry?” Sirius said.

“I said I can’t watch her suffer. Not if I’m not the one causing it” Remus said before scribbling all ten fingers into your armpits. You screamed from the sudden attack, desperate to bring your arms down but Remus kept them pinned above you. Sirius smiled mischievously at him.

“That’s my boy” Sirius then joined the attack by scribbling in between each of your ribs. 

“STOHOHOHOP AHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE” you bucked and squirmed, desperate to get away. Sirius noticed your top had ridden up from your squirming so he ceased his attack and slowly dragged a finger across your waistline. Remus followed and gently stroked up and down your arms to keep you giggling. 

“Ready to apologise yet missy?” Sirius asked. You shook your head and bit your lip, trying to soften the giggles.

“You know Sirius, I think you deserve a break after all that. Even the tickle monster gets tired sometimes. Maybe you could use a snack?” Remus said, evilly smirking but trying not to look at you. You instantly knew what was coming and shook your head.

“N-no no no, he’s not hungry, he can m-manage” you stuttered out but Sirius tilted his head to the side. 

“You’re right Remus, I am a little peckish. A couple of raspberries may do the trick.” Sirius bent down and blew a big raspberry on your belly button, then one on your waistline, shaking his head into it so his facial hair tickled your sensitive tummy. You threw your head back and dissolved into silent laughter, unable to move. 

“The tickle monster enjoys getting cheeky girls like you, ESPECIALLY if they have a veeeery ticklish tummy” Sirius blew another raspberry on your belly, this time coupled with one hand tickling your hip and another on your ribcage. Remus smiled fondly at you, his heart filled with joy every time he heard you laugh. He also smiled fondly at Sirius, he enjoyed Sirius turning into the tickle monster too so mixing him and you together made him so happy. 

Sirius had stopped blowing raspberries and went back to lightly scratching at your bare skin, allowing you to breathe but still making you giggle. You looked up at Remus through your tear filled eyes.

“Rehehemus please, help me” you giggled out.

“Nuh-uh, Remus, darling, you’re going to help me. I still haven’t heard an apology yet” Sirius shuffled down a bit and started squeezing your thighs which made you buck.

“NOHOHOHOT THERE HAHAHAHAAA” 

Remus used his quick fingers to tickle your underarms and ribs. One hand accidentally brushed against your neck and you shrieked.

“Oh? What’s this?” Remus asked before using the other hand to do the same. You shrieked again, louder this time. 

“Jackpot.” Remus grinned as he used his fast fingers to tickle your neck and ears. You shook your head from side to side but he always managed to find a good spot to tickle. 

Sirius stopped his own attack and smiled at Remus. He felt proud that all the teasing and skillful tickling he used on Remus was paying off. 

“STOHOHOHOP PLEHEHEASE I”M SOHOHOHOHORRY” you screamed out. The neck and ear tickling pushed you over the edge and you couldn’t take anymore. Remus stopped immediately. 

“Sorry for what?” Sirius asked.

“I’m sohohorry for the bad jokes, I just wanted to make you laugh” you giggled out, feeling the ghost tickles on your tummy and neck. They both got off you, Remus sat you up and hugged you tightly from behind, you relaxed into his arms as Sirius stroked your head and played with your hair. 

“We know, and I did laugh because they were so bad.” Remus said, he then leaned in before whispering “Sirius will never admit to it, but he loves playing tickle monster when you get cheeky” 

You giggled and looked at Sirius who growled softly at you and pinched your side, making you squeak. 

They both held you for a while which you loved. Despite being a teenager, the two of them always babied you. And though you would never ever admit it out loud, you really loved being tickled. 

[mimithings97]

ABSTRACT ft BOB ROSS (M) - JJK

Summary: Paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what Jeongguk wants. And what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

Genre: smutPWP, timid crack, established relationship

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: jeongguks horny! getting high, body painting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging, slight subJK, unprotected sex, cockwarming, masturbation (fem), dry humping

A/N: Jeongguk being on his Bob Ross thing to help us through quarantine had me inspired. Fr Bob Ross was a legend. This gets steamy btw

Also pls stay safe everyone and don’t be selfish. Enjoy x

*Masterlist Link*

*Bold italic is JK speaking Korean*

“Tap it off… and just beat the devil out of it.”

“JEONGGUK FOR THE LOVE OF JESUSSS!”

“Isn’t that fun.”

“...What? Just doing what he tells me to do.” 

And he persists, batting brush to easel with a rate of knots only a testament to how fast he jacks off. It sends diluted paint across the room so you’re left as a life size dot to dot, with splatters lining your lips down to the hem of your shirt and it’s cold and wet, and this isn’t what you signed up for when he said ‘couples bonding’. 

“I’m fucking soaked.” He scoffs, that man sized brain of his conjuring a classic. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You’re four hours deep, and four hours too many by your standards. Jeongguk was always an avid painter at heart, finding joy in the freedom of all things creativity, but he was also a perfectionist, a competitor. It led him from tutorial to tutorial, because, whilst he’s got portraiture down, his landscaping needed a little brushing up - mind the pun - and it was only an amount of time before you stumbled across a Bob Ross tutorial in all things serene and panoramic.

You shake yourself off in some attempt to help the splay of wet paint and to ease your job with the washing machine later, and lean back on your heels to gather your bearings. Yet, Bob still drones on despite your misery, and your boyfriend’s all too eager to comply with his every word.

“Jeongguk!” 

He’s laughing off to himself, easily pleased in the scheme of all things pensioner humour, but murmurs off a halfhearted ‘yeh’ in your direction to ease where he knows you’re about to nag.

“Look at me!” 

He does. And it throws you off a little because he eyes you once over, twice and a third time before settling his gaze on your breasts - easily pleased for many more things than just Bob Ross.

“You’re messy.”

“Yeh fuck I am! You listen to Bob more than you listen to me, cockless.”  

He quirks an eyebrow, and shuffles so the laptop settled between both your easels can be paused, leaving Bob frozen in time and you to deepen your scowl.

“Yeh, um, cockless, cool... Bob tells me how well I’m doing and lets me hit paint brushes on wooden sticks. You don’t even let me feed Sassy nugs of weed when you sure as hell fucking know she’s a stoner cat.” 

Jeongguk was deep into his second joint after he fucked the first two paintings up enough he put a lighter to the edge of each. He even questioned using them as a roach, and you became one step closer to pleading insanity to your landlord and bolting the fuck out of you joint tenancy. But then he got you high and you persevered.  

Four more questionable and highly abstract paintings later, he’s got the hots for Bob, and you're left staggering on your words to rope him into lucidity again. 

“Guk, he’s a virtual man with 4 million followers, don’t take it personally and-.”

“But-” You deadpan, and point your paintbrush with emphasis. 

“And you know full well Sassy gets baked anyways off of fumes. The smoke gets in her fur as well and it was me” he looks innocently at you, muted by your outburst, “who got clawed when she had to be bathed. So tuck your balls away from Bob, and sober up!” 

He’s quiet. As are you. And even Bob lies dormant off in your peripherals. 

The room grows small as you size each other up, paintings left aside with the sole purpose of being witness to argument, and you think he might just look hot with his nipples standing cold against the open air and abs rolling beneath the line of his sweats. 

He’s on the same wavelength: 

“I can see your tits through that shirt.” 

You take a quick peak yourself, eyeing from one to the other, ignorant of the double chin you’re exposing, but all in the name of making sure the ladies stand perky. He’s got a glint beneath the surface now when he eyes your chest, and the paintbrush in his hand falls a little limper. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmm.” He tongues his lips. Hungry. 

Self control in such a situation as this seems important. The ability to stand your ground no matter where your argument lies on the scale of idiocy. If you curtail into being seduced, he might still make you wash the shirt yourself, figure Bob Ross is a turn on and have Sassy seeing smoke rings by the end of the night. No. You’re not a pushover.

He’s an inch closer when you break the silence, the tumbleweed rolled aside. 

“Turn it around. Let me see.”

“Ey?”

He’s horny and you’re not playing ball, something his brain can’t quite transfer to his dick yet.

“Turn yours around I wanna see how you did.” You give a nod in the direction of his painting. A spout of curiosity as to what monstrosity he’s conjured this time, but also a distraction, something for him to latch onto aside from your chest. 

“I thought we wait til the end. It’s unfinished.” And one thing Jeongguk hates being is unfinished. 

“Baby, Bob’s been overworked tonight and I wanna light the last spliff.” You air a finger and twizzle it, “give it a whirl.”

Being the competitor he is, Jeongguk plasters a smile and spins his easel, the pride practically radiating from him with the way he eyes the two trees and awkwardly sculpted sky. The clouds are askew and the lighting is directioned all wrong, in fact, it’s more a Picasso than a Mozart, blocks of colour screaming attention rather than the realism Bob was hoping for. 

“What’s it abstract for.”

Jeongguk frowns because your tone clearly isn’t close to praise and that’s what he’s learnt to expect. What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. Tonight's seen enough of your short fuse, however, that he’s not in the running for your good books. 

“Jagi-ya,” he pleads, “you know I speak in small English only when I’m stoned.”

You don’t even attempt to stifle the giggle. His eyes are round and his neck’s falling into his shoulders. A defence mechanism he’s well versed in because he knows it gets you in the feels. The jagi too.

“Yeh and this is how you paint when you’re stoned,” he eyes the work he’s made like your words have got him curious, like he’s never seen the capability of a weed induced state on canvas, “your lines get all boxy.”

He shifts, putting criticism to the test as he takes in his artwork from a new vantage point. In the meantime, the final joint lays naked and unused, almost sculpted like it was made for your fingertips. So you appease it’s calling and bringing tip to mouth, lighting the end until the embers begin to wisp away into smoke. Jeongguk breaths in like he wants it, but there’s an epiphany in sights instead.

“Mmm, it’s more like Picasso,” that’s my boy.

“Exactly!” 

“...Bob doesn’t accommodate for high people.” He takes the joint when you offer it. 

“Guk! That was a big word!” And he earns himself a kiss on the cheek, perhaps a hand to fiddle with his shoulders too, because those muscles aren’t gonna touch themselves. 

He drags long and hard. A third joint kind of high taking hold from where his eyes grow thinning and his posture caves into your touch. 

“Heard it on University Challenge,” you scoff at him. Since when was that on cable, “figure if I watch it enough I’ll be just as smart as them.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, bubs.”

Your hands grow fond of his skin, and it’s only when he leans away to trash the fumes away on a burnt out scrapped painting that you realise he finished all the weed. Guk’s a kid in a pram when it comes to sharing his green goods. He compensates with good sex though. 

And it’s where his mind lies - beneath the thin layer of your white painting top, a scrap piece of clothing donned for only the messiest of times. He seems to find inspiration in the idea. 

“Jagi.” 

“Mmm,” the air buzzes somewhere between stoned and excited with how he eyes you. 

“Let me paint you like one of my Korean girls.” It’s said in a tone laced with enough lust that you ignore the reference and are turned on by the novelty of being painted. And you know he doesn’t mean Jack and Rose kind of style.

You offer him a smirk. 

“How d’you want me.” 

Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip and lets his mind and dick go wild at the thought of free reign. The contemplating drags on, but when his eyes settle on how your pussy lies just south of the hem of your shirt, he’s struck a vision.

“Back, legs spread, and shirt off- wait, no, actually, shirt on.” 

He’s easy to comply with in the circumstances of things stoned and shirtless.

Your head is light, limbs soft when they stretch against the carpeted floor and you’re so prepared to be a canvas you’re wondering if maybe Bob had turned you on a little. And everything grows that bit more ambient, strewn into background noise. The paints you’d used now only exist with purpose of your skin, the Sam Cooke vinyl, now on its fifth round, is merely a melody to curl your toes to and the chiaroscuro lighting serves for the curve of your cheekbones only.  

He’d call you artwork if only it did you justice. 

“It’s cold.” He readies you.

His forth fingertip is crimson red. You think it’s a tester for temperature until he runs it down your thigh. A bold stroke for a starting place, but Jeongguk was never shy with paints.

“Mmm, yeh, cold.” 

“You like it?” He asks like he wants to be in tune with you.

“I can get to like it.” 

What you mean is you can get to like your boyfriend, in his half naked glory, playing temperature torture on your skin. 

He’s beautiful like this. A little lost in the high, but even deeper in the depths of you and your body and your lips and how you lay for him. A shy boy at first now with the pick of the litter. And he’ll take his pick wisely.

“So pretty.” You’ve got enough understanding to writhe in the praise, “Can I ruin your top?”

You are high, careless and ultimately curious. 

“Yeh,” and the shirt was fucked anyways. 

He pulls up the palette next to him, drawing a sketch with his eyes because paint doesn’t allow for takebacks and twiddles the brush in circles with practised ease. 

“Close your eyes for me?” 

“Ey?” You question. 

“Please, just, for now.”

And you’ll blind yourself for the sake of surprise, but now you’re sure you’ll just end up playing guess the drawing through touch alone, a mimic of what Jeongguk does on your naked spine in the mornings when you’re allowed a lie in. 

It’s cold, he’s right, that first stroke. And it dances close to where your breasts hang. 

“Can I touch you down there too?” 

OH fuck yes. Multitasking you can get on board with. 

“Please.”

He’s straight to it. A quirk on the line he was painting down you because suddenly he’s got you pleading and wet in unintentional places. 

“You plead so nicely for me, jagi. So good.” You gush to the tune of his native tongue.

It’s all at once. An overload of the senses. Sam Cooke a soulful prayer in time with your boyfriends hum. There’s a perfect juxtaposition of nimble fingers on your clit and a flat planed brush streaking unabashedly on the cotton against your nipples. It’s cold and hot and light and dark and everything in between. It’s sexy. 

You delve headfirst into the pleasure of it all, throwing an arm over your eyes and allowing the moans to spew and your body to convulse a little every time you’re hit with a newly loaded brush. Your body brews up a tempest and yo-

“DONE!”

Oh. 

You’re panting. Soaked to the bone beneath your silk panties, and when you open your eyes, everything is in disarray. 

The lust felt when in the thrones of your imagination is suddenly scattered, albeit, Jeongguk still looks like a feast. Because Sam Cooke doesn’t sound so harmonic and your skin doesn’t glow as bright when you assess the masterpiece you’d been distracted by. 

“YOU GAVE ME PICASSO TITS!”

Fucking Picasso tits! 

You’re horrified. And Jeongguk looks like he’s won the lottery. 

“Yeh. Jagi! Abstact!” 

“It’s abstract…” you whine.

Tugging and pulling at the hem of the cotton in some attempt to render the mess undone is your stress ball . Something to help it or just unsee it. Anything. But it’s useless, because the display is etched in primary colours only, a demand for attention that your Vanish Ultra won’t even touch the sides on.

Your eyes fume when they meet his crescents, “and you gave me square tits you freak! I have perfectly good tits, underneath, and this top was clean before you violated it!” 

There’s enough rage in you to stand and peel the wet shirt from your body, only to find a coloured imprint on your skin and bra that seeped through the thin fabric. Pick a younger man, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Hildy can shove fun up her ass.

“Baby, it’s kind of funny.” 

“Its not- its-,” he’s laughing. You’re exasperated. Both high. And maybe Hildy had a point once you let go of the burdens of sensibility and just crave what he’s having. Go, fat, high, fun. 

“Gukkkkkkk.” So you end up whining. And, you don’t resist when he’s off his feet and drowning you in his chest, muscles vibrating to the tune of his giggles. 

“Like, now, whenever we Bob Ross paint, I get to be reminded of the time I squared off your boobs then sexed you real good.”

You scoff from under his armpit, but refuse to depart from the embrace. He’s got a sweaty smell you only like on him and there’s nothing like Jeontits in your face. 

“Never Bob Ross painting again and you’re not sexing anything, perv.” 

“No?” 

“Mm-hm,” he giggles over your dramatic head shaking, a true fan of you when he’s got you swaddled and in that high happy place. Jeongguk also, whilst he won’t admit it, likes owing you something. Likes poking and prodding at your sensitivity until he’s got something to make up for - he’s a people pleaser, what can he say. 

So it’s a kiss here and a peck there. A mouthed map from shoulder to jaw before you’re the one to shift until your mouths align. 

“I’mhard y’know.” Tongue deep into yours because he’s got nothing to hide.

“Mmm, and you’ll stay that way.” 

But he really is oh so hard. His sweats hold little surprise under the surface because Jeongguk forgoes underwear on his days off and there’s a perk to his chest from his lunchtime weights set. It’s a self control that the weed in your brain isn’t quite abiding to.

“Jagi, come on,” the way his stance has a gain on your height means he can find friction where your groin lays. The perfect snuggle for his length to cant up into. He’s teasing himself, and pining for the quirk in you that’ll have him squirming later. 

“Guk. You’ve stained my top. You’re not about to cum on my La Perla panties.” Yet he’s driving himself deeper into a painful withdrawal. And he can’t wait. 

“You wore them without anything on your legs. You should know the risk,” his lips dance from collarbones to shoulder as he indulges in your skin, “You get me so hard, Jagi. So hard it hurts,” he’s biting whilst he ruts, “yet you tease me. How can you do that?” 

Your resolve won’t crumble, but you may indulge a little. Press encouragement beneath his boxers and under the small of his back so he can carry himself away in the friction. He glows in it. 

“Urgh, god.” 

“Mmm, you still can’t cum you know that.” 

Frantic. He nods frantic, and rolls his eyes back harder. He’s got balls so tight from the weed induced delusion that he’s lost in, but he knows you’ll have them blue and him mewling soon.

“Want it.” Submissive Korean sounds almost too good on him. He bows into your shoulder and grunts words, understandable in content, but so much more in context. An unfiltered, raw need he can only express in his way. 

You almost give in. 

Almost.

“Jeongguk, stop- stop.” He stills, and is pliable enough that you can cup his jaw tightly and meet him at eye level where he’s hazy. There’s a smirk nestled deep too because you let him go this far.  And you got riled up in the process. 

You eye him. Hairs flicking out from the thin headband he donned for painting and painting only. There’s a shine on his skin you can’t ignore and he’s so damn beautiful when he glows with want. Your man. A ‘my eyes only’ specimen except you get to touch. 

So you do, hands to peck that draw up and down until you play peek a boo with his tip between the flap of his sweats. It’s the crimson that stains your thigh and the glossy look he’s edged himself to. You’re ravenous. 

“Jagi, don’t just look. I’m dying here.”

You take one final glance, watch it bob when your nails scrape his abs and then quirk a look his way. 

“Mmm, I’m still angry at you.” You’re not. Not really and never were. Just wanted something on him so you’d have him like you do now:

“Take it out on me” He doesn’t stutter. Doesn’t smile, smirk or indicate humour. Ready to risk it all. 

“Lie on the sofa how you want it then… and them,” you once over the material on his legs with your finger, “off.”

He’s so compliant when he’s hard and no one will ever find you complaining at the notion. 

There’s easles to dodge and paints that threaten to brim onto the wooden floors, but your apartment never had ‘perfect’ written on the lease, so you’ll let him settle his clothes haphazardly - teetering on messy. 

You follow the path he’s strewn, bra off to join his boxers, until you settle your knees against his, shadow elongated on his face by the direction of the sunlight and hair swept over to one shoulder. His eyes follow your curves. 

“Will you touch me now?” He’s craving and the concept has your mind whirling and eyes stuck on where he’s hard. You’ve only now come to notice the way he sits on his hands, wrists dug into the sofa from the pressure of his thighs. Filthy. It’s filthy that he edges himself for sport. 

With a twitch at the side of your mouth because there’s a million and one different ways to have him crying, you descend so skin is on skin and he’s captive to you. Drunk in the way he looks. Nervous in the way his dick twitches. 

“How d’you want me to touch you?” 

“Any way, fuck, any way.. Please.” The pleasantries aren’t necessary. He’s at your mercy physically but this boy’s got a hold on you like no other, enough that what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

“Here?” His dick is expecting when he sees your hand move in his peripherals. It’s sure and ready for your touch. But then you moan. Eyes roll back just like when he touches your cl-, “Is here good, Guk?” 

“Oh fuck.” You’re two fingers deep and a palm to your clit. He’s taken note in the way you touch yourself before, mutual masturbation a 2 month-in kind of job, but this is different. Your pussy makes him salivate and the way you touch yourself makes him feel all too primitive. Like he’s never heard a girl moan before. “Jagi. Come on.”  

It’s so damn hot to you that his dick sits there untouched, hips still glued as though he’s unaffected. You’re tuned in, though, to those things that tell you otherwise. The strain on his neck from where his bottom jaw clenches. English sidelined because he can’t think straight. His dick bobbing every time you hit an upstroke into yourself and the squelch rings out. He’s so damn horny, but he’ll wait on you. Knows seeking the end untouched is like drinking water after parching in the desert. 

“So beautiful. You’re so beautiful. The way you touch yourself is beautiful too.” His eyes are fluttering and he can’t look away from you. It has you shamelessly moaning. “God I’m hard.”

You laugh, knuckle deep and feel the spasm of your walls. He’s really hard with precum immodest and when you meet his eyes again he’s vulnerable, too thirsty, maybe, for what he’s subjected himself to.

You’re left wanting, “I really wanna taste.”

“Jesus.” Jeongguk whispers under his breath, throws his head back for good measure because he’s got a visual before the main course has even happened. “You can’t be so shameless, it has me thinking things.” Vivid, things. 

And his imagination plays out in real time when you descend onto the wooded floor. He stutters, splutters on his tongue when you’ve got long nails all up in his groin.

“F-fu- wait, Jagi, wait wait wait, jagi.” You’re an inch off, breath catching his tip and so close you can smell him. God you want a taste. “I’m- You can’t just.”

Ohhhh. 

“You’ll cum?”

He’s not ashamed, embarrassed or anything in between. Just the longing for more, eating away at him, and knowing he’s a gonner in less than a minute if you’re to lick him. 

“Just, fuck, Y/N. Just kiss me.”

You do. The head of his dick too appealing not to offer a peck to. 

“Fuck.” He hisses it between his teeth and seeks refuge under an arm as to not concern himself with the way your tits look under him. “Not ther-” but not all cravings can be fixed, and you’ve got a mouthful. 

His hand jerks out from where it situates beneath him. The dilemma as to whether his dick can handle the back of your throat, seemingly easier to combat if he can claw at his thighs. But you’ve fallen into a rhythm despite the discomfort of hard floorboards and empty walls, and he’s keening for it, low moans and harsh breaths when your throat constricts. 

“Jagi, I real- oh shit, I really might cum.” You want him to. But the look that glazes over him when he’s edged is too good to wait for. Hit hits your throat deep, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” hands thrown into your hair because he thinks maybe he wants you to stop.

But there’s the edge, and for a second he thinks he’s too far past it, balls tightened and his chest caves at the promise of lodging a load in your throat. 

“Fuck!” You’re off him and shuffled back before he can cry wolf. Jeongguk helplessly grasps at his base, and screws his eyes tight to curb the feeling of blood rushing everywhere. 

You’ve got a vantage point like no other. A vista genuinely for the ‘my eyes only’. 

His chest violently rises and falls and his thighs shake at the same rate. It’s hard to reserve yourself from kissing up his legs, so you don’t, soft nips where the seam of his trousers would run and even though he was driven to maximum sensitivity, he wants you as close as you are.

You litter the expanse of his body until he can vent the lost orgasm into your mouth. A rage of tongues and spit that has your centre warm again. But he mellows out into you and plays seduction. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm,” you speak amongst the twine of lips. 

“Let me kiss you.. Down there.” His eyes plague with sincerity. A wholehearted desire to taste you and taste you again, and you’re one to oblige. 

The sofa, whilst a two generation hand-me-down, offers more comfort than the floor and you bask in being pampered when Jeongguk lowers your front to it, situating a littered pillow below you to accentuate the curve of your back. Your behind sits bare with panties discarded and you look beautiful enough he’ll tell you. 

“Look at your body Jagi. How can you be mine?”

It’s unnerving being like this. Subject to alien words and a stare you can’t dilute. But it’s a package deal and Jeongguk doesn’t take long to offer the incentive. 

“Smell nice too.”

He traces the curve of your back with his palm the same way he strokes you between your legs. Fluid and warm and...

“Goddd, that’s good.”

Jeongguk basks in all things praise. An inflation to his own high. So he hums approval into you as you begin to writhe. 

You bite back the urge to push into him and seek a salacious end, frantic in the heat of lust, but Jeongguk keeps a controlled hold on you and eases the pressure away from the good spots, just so it’s better when he comes back for more. 

“Mmmm, good, good there.” Where he’s spreading you and planting muscle deep. He doesn’t resist the temptation to go north either and explore tighter areas, and he hums a smile when he garners an entirely different noise from you because, fuck, that’s sensitive.

“Jeongguk, oh- I might cum.”

“Yeh?” He’s in you and around you and kneading at your cheeks like he’s rallying himself up. He is. Running his body in time with your movement so there’s a subtle rut to edge himself to.

“Yeh.”

“I want that. Bad.”

You’re loud and knocking on the door of something breathtaking, now that he’s left romance for dead. He wants you to cum, and hard 

Fumbling an arm behind you until you can grapple onto the hairs of his head does little to prevent the sensation, the quaking and the tightening. He’s sinking a thumb against your rim and a tongue in your pussy and you indulge in it all.

“Shitshit oh my fucking god.” 

He moans when you strike gold and pulse from every point of your being. Entrapped in that disembodied feeling where everything’s too good and all at once. It lags and Jeongguk’s hands purchase hard when you clench on his tongue. 

“Shit.”

He lets you down easy though, mindful of all of the places that could be a cause for over-sensitivity - save that for another day - and nuzzles into your thigh. 

The need to move lingers whilst you carry yourself away into the thrones of exhaustion, mind fizzing as you boyfriend sucks the meat of your ass with tempt. He’s wanting and you’ve got a craving to see him cum, but everything's numb. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm.” 

You feel him before see him crawling up you, his front flush to you just as a means of exaggerating where he lays hard and in wait. He let you edge him and made you cum, a cause for a gold star among other things, so you flip over, careful not to knock him where it hurts, and pull at the straggling hairs the band can’t accommodate for. 

“I want you. I want you really bad.” He feels selfish for feeling like it’s his right to claim an end. But there’s a genuine cause for concern that he’s been hard for so long, and will be as long as you lay bare and beautiful, and the biology of the situation isn’t just coincidental with his want. 

But he kisses you soft and the sense of obligation dissipates into the desire to see him undone. 

“You gonna fuck me?” He’s desperate to, and you laying pliant beneath him has his lust escalating quickly. 

“Yes, yesyesyes jagi.” But as to not cum to quick he settles into stroking his length between where you’re wet. The sensitivity has lessened, but the rush of blood still is a cause for a grimace. Jeongguk kisses it out of you, settling into a rhythm of tongue then teeth then tongue then teeth. You’re lost enough, he’s sinking into your walls unhinged. 

“Fuck.”

“God, how can you feel like this every time.” He’s driven to the edge of insanity with every feel of your walls, like a first time every time, uncharted territory he wants to explore as soon as he’s explored. 

You grapple from the sweaty hairs that line his neck to where his muscles contract and sink now that he’s easing you into compliance. Not that it wasn’t easy to. But your walls, spent previously, make the glide a little harder in the promise that it’ll make him cum quick. 

“You good? This good?” He caters for you in a strained plea. 

“Amazing. God. A little faster.”

He’s sure to combust, purchasing his mouth on your neck and choking grunts into the skins there when his hips begin to snap and balls begin to ring an echo onto the four walls.

“Fuck jagi. Thank you. God, thank you.” He prays to your pussy as his abs clench in the knowledge that he’s teetering on the edge. Every run against you has him keening. 

“Hold me.” He nestles his cheek to your hair until your breaths are synced, “don’t cum yet. Please, god-hm,” you choke, “don’t cum.”

“Oh god, oh god,” he’ll get you there, but he’s sweating out the urge to spill into you. He wants to see you done, hear you moan, have you every kind of euphoric. So he licks his thumb quick and has it in between you and on your clit quicker. A pressure and nothing more because he knows what hurts you. 

He’s hissing at the strain, but you’re left in hopeless moans. 

“Cumming, baby, cu- fuck.” There’s nothing stopping the assault of your walls on him as everything tightens and then releases. You quiver into him. 

“Oh, you got so tight. Fuckfuck, oh god.” Jeongguk gives into it, too, when his body shudders and he pulls you tight, “ah,” spilling everything and it’s so hot but he’s heady enough that none of it matters. 

You bask in that feeling for however long, lulling his shakes with a trail of nails through his hair down to his back, and nuzzle where your cheeks meet. 

His back rises and falls and rises and falls and it’s all things soothing. 

So you whisper lowly, “Guk.”

He shifts fractionally and huffs at the exertion of it all, body pliable and soft in and around you.

“Baby, we can’t fall asleep here.”

You know he’ll ask for a few more minutes, the true post orgasm baby that he is. 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

You laugh in the way of your predictable boy and snuggle him further now that he’s cocooned, the tingles in your toes eases and he might lay heavy on you but it’s comforting that his body moves to the puff of your chest. It’s like watching the clouds in the sky morph from one figure to another. Like the soft ticking of a metronome. Like counting sheep. And it’s easy to let ‘just a few more minutes’ trickle on and on. 

What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. 

[acatnamedpusheen]

Sunrise [M]

Jaebeom X Reader smut (with lots of fluff as well)

Words: ~1.5K

When will I ever stop writing about this man?! Never ever :') That was a bad pun I know. Anyways I wrote this a while ago and it took me quite some time to finish it. I'm not entirely satisfied with the outcome, I feel like it's too monotonous, but I like the whole idea. I'll try and get back with better quality next time ^.^

The warm sunlight entering your shared bedroom fell on the exposed skin of your shoulders. You could feel a familiar arm being draped over your waist, softly caressing you. Eyes slowly fluttering open as small pecks were being placed on the back of your neck. You turned around to face the person responsible for all of this - Jaebeom.

"Good morning" he said with a smile, his voice sounding a little deeper than usual. "Good morning, Jaebeom" you replied smiling as well. You loved this sight, first thing in the morning- puffy face, no make up and his hair a mess. He looked the softest when you were like this in bed.

It was one of those rare times when he'd get a day of, so you both would sleep in longer, cherishing the moment. Your clothes were scattered around in the room, a reminder of the passionate session you had the previous night. There was nothing separating your naked bodies, allowing you to feel each other's touch.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked as he rested his head on one arm to look at you, the other still holding your waist. God, his voice sounded heavenly in the mornings.

"Mm-hmm" you hummed as you rubbed your eyes trying to gradually erase sleep.

As you shifted to lay your head on his bare torso, his arms instantly wrapped around you.

It was a beautiful spring morning, the bright sun outside creating a warm atmosphere. The covers now seemed too heavy around you making it impossible to let them go and the heat between yours and Jaebeom's skin was enough to drive you crazy.

His palms were drawing circles on your back while you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

"I missed this" you sighed and closed your eyes, feeling the connection between you two.

"I have to admit the same thing" he said as one of his hands moved to rest on your lower back, threatening to touch your hips that had gotten enough of his attention last night.

"I love you, Jaebeom" you told him as you started leaving kisses on his chest. No matter how many times you'd repeated this phrase the past 24 hours, it seemed as if it would never be enough.

"I love you more, my sunshine" he cooed and kissed your head.

Slowly kissing your way up his neck, you reached his lips and caught him by surprise as he had his eyes closed enjoying your treatment.

"I'm so lucky to have you." you said as you pulled away and got a good look at his stunning features. "Honestly, sometimes I wish I'd met you earlier just so that I could have loved you longer." you had barely finished your sentence before Jaebeom was kissing you. This time you could feel he was needier, your words probably triggering a heat to rise between the two of you again.

"How about we make up for lost time, then?" he raised one eyebrow then kissed you again.

He licked your bottom lip with his tongue, asking you for permission which you were quick to grant. Instantly the kiss was deepened, tongues dancing as he moved so he could be on top of you. Spreading your legs wider with his knee, he rested himself between them.

You broke the kiss, panting and knowing full well were this was going. Besides, morning sex wasn't unusual for you and Jaebeom during his days off. No matter how hard he'd go on you at night, in the morning it would always be slow.

"No one in their right mind could deny such an offer" you smirked at him slightly.

And that was all he needed to start kissing your neck, occasionally sucking, while one of his hands rubbed your side, getting closer to your breasts. You sighed and threw your head back in satisfaction, giving him better access to your sweet spot. You loved it more than anything when Jaebeom worshiped your body like this, it drove you insane in the most pleasurable way possible.

His lips were traveling down past your collarbone until they reached the valley of your breasts. Hot like fire they were giving you goosebumps every time they contacted your skin. Jaebeom knew the impact he had on you- one touch and you came undone for him.

A moan escaped your mouth as his was now devouring one of your nipples, the other one being taken care of by his palm. He switched and another moan was heard from you, eyes shut, getting lost in the feeling, while your arms found their place around Jaebeom's shoulders.

"Look at me, love" his silk voice brought you back to reality, your eyes, meeting his own. "I want your eyes on me, can you do this, Y/N?" he had stopped kissing you,waiting for your answer before making his next move. Even though these moments were all about slow love-making, Jaebeom always found a way to tease you, remind you of who's in charge.

You nodded urging him to continue working on you. Without breaking eye contact his sweet warm lips traveled south down your stomach stopping right under your belly button. His gaze was piercing, riveting you. The black locks that had fell on his face matching perfectly with his dark pupils.

His hands were now on your thighs, massaging them lightly before spreading your legs a little bit more. He wet his lips with his tongue, as a signal of what was coming next, not that it wasn't already obvious. Slowly he dived  between your legs, leaving open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, getting closer to where you needed him the most. When he finally moved to your clit, you found it impossible to keep looking at him, moaning you let a breath out towards the ceiling, your fingers interlacing with his hair.

He touched, he licked, switching between your core and your clit, eating you out like a hungry man. His careful ministrations earning more moans from you. It wasn't rough, yet it was intense and soon you were grinding your hips against his mouth, feeling your high getting closer and closer. He sensed it, he always did and that's when he stopped his actions and came back up to see you already being quite a mess. You whined at the sudden loss of pleasure but you knew he was building up your orgasm.

"You enjoyed that, my love?" he asked you, even though the answer was clear to him.

"God, Jaebeom, please continue" you sighed, eager for his touch.

He licked his now glistening lips once again and then gave you a deep kiss, slightly tugging at your bottom lip.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Y/N." he made your cheeks turn a faint shade of pink while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting your arms and placing them on his back as he aligned himself. Another kiss was placed on your lips, while he entered you. Swallowing each other's moans you both focused on the feeling of having one another, skin to skin, closer than ever. Jaebeom's pace was slow and you were soon circling your hips to match it. He wanted to take his time, burying his head in your neck, leaving low grunts every so often.

It was a game for all five of your senses- you gazed at his mesmerizing features, listened to his velvet voice, touched his soft skin, breathed in his scent and tasted his luscious lips.

He went a little faster, enough to leave you out of breath. "I love you, Jaebeom" you panted. He didn't respond, instead he moved one hand to your clit, rubbing it and stimulating you further.

His name had now become your mantra as you were reaching your high for the second time. He was close too, grunts getting louder and thrusts more desperate.

"Jaebeom..." you moaned, head thrown back, eyes closed, nails subtly scratching his back, as you reached your high. He followed soon after and helped you both ride it out. "I love you too Y/N" lips on your neck yet again before he stilled inside you for a brief moment.

"I'll never get used to this." you said while trying to catch your breath.

"Then don't. It's not exciting otherwise"  he smirked, his ego definitely getting a boost upon hearing that "To me, you shine brighter than the sun, Y/N" he continued as if he was thinking out loud, lost in your gaze and you couldn't hide your smile.

"I hope I can spend the rest of my life by your side. In fact, I'll promise you that." you told him sincerely as he still held you closer than ever.

"In this case, let me promise you that I'll find you and love you as much as I do now even in the next life" Jaebeom left you speechless before placing his warm lips on yours for what might have been the thousandth time that morning.

[loser-writings]

hey! can i request sfw alphabet for katsuki (if someone hasn't already)? as always i looooove your work, thank you! 💕

Hey! Thank you for being patient with me! These alphabets take quite a bit of time so once again, thank you. 

Also! Special thanks to the lovely @garrulousassurance for helping me with this as well as letting me bounce ideas off of you!

SFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugo

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He isn’t affectionate in the same sense as Deku, Kirishima, or Todoroki. He shows his affection by little things like giving you his full attention when you are speaking, keeping eye contact with you, and giving you little motivational pep talks when you are feeling down

He is pretty uncomfortable with physical affection, but he tries his best. PDA Isn’t his thing, but be patient and he might hold you hand (Even if they are a little sweaty)

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would be a really supportive best friend, but the kind of friend that would call you out on your shit. You being an asshole? He will fucking tell you and keep you in check. He never really gets physical either, but he will slap your arm and glare if you say something that can come off the wrong way.

One of the most caring best friends ever. You have a headache? Hold up he has pain pills. You hungry? Shit give him 10 minutes and he will cook for you. 

Also is the friend you need when it comes to other toxic people. He HATES seeing his friends being abused or taken advantage of. If you are in a bad relationship, he will be there as backup and motivation to help get you out of there. Dealing with an abusive parent and having enough, He will get you out of there and will have you move in with him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He really does love to cuddle, but it takes some work to convince him to sit down and relax. He always wants to move and really doesn’t know how to relax, so the best way to get him to cuddle is by grabbing his hand and pulling him to the couch or bed. Then sit or lay on top of him. He will complain for a while, but he won’t move. If you move, he will simply pull you back down. He is just being a brat.

His favorite way to cuddle is called “The Sweethearts cradle” since it's such a calming position for him. With your hand pressed against his chest, he will wrap his arm around you to pull you closer before pressing a kiss to your head. He really loves to sleep like this too since he thinks spooning is overrated (But he will never deny being the little spoon)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wouldn’t really “Settle down” since he wants nothing more than to be a hero and a symbol of peace like All Might was for him, but he also won’t let this desire interfere with his life outside of work. He would love to have a family to come home to and to marry you one day. A quiet life with Katsuki doesn’t really suit him, but he will continue to do his best with you by his side.

He is clearly great at cleaning and can cook like none other. He absolutely loves to cook and it seems to relax him, so if he is stressed you better prepare for a good meal and maybe some candy or baked goods as well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would break up with you as gently as he possibly can. He genuinely does/did love you, but he would leave in a heartbeat as long as it meant you were safe and had the chance to be happy. It would suck, and he may even shed a tear or two, but after breaking the news to you he will give you a really tight hug. There is so much in that hug that it really does break your hearts, but he knows its for the best.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It would be a few years before he decided to pop the question, no less than 2. If you don’t believe in marriage, that's chill too. He doesn’t need a piece of paper to tell you that he loves you, but he would get married if you expressed that you want that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He isn’t that gentle, but he is more gentle with you than he is with others. When he is with his friends or in public, he can be a bit of a hothead but he will never hurt you. When he is alone, he is much more calm and gentle. If you tease him, He may try to be a bit less gentle with you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Bakugo does enjoy hugs, but he will never initiate them. If you want a hug, you will have to get it yourself but it can end in a variety of ways. 

He might push you away, but try not to take it personally. This will happen if he is genuinely angry, is in public, and while he is doing hero work. If he is angry, he will push you away with the comment that he doesn’t want to be touched. In reality, he just doesn’t want to take his anger out on you. As mentioned previously, he struggles with PDA, so he will push you away simply because he is uncomfortable.

If you hug him in private, he will still be a bit stiff but he will relax over time. He will slowly wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your head or your shoulder. He is also the kind of person who sways a bit from side to side when he holds somebody, just enjoying the hug as much as possible

If he hugs somebody, including his S/O, he rather just woke up from a nap or is having a really bad day. Even he has some pretty bad days that leave him just wanting to be held. This doesn’t happen, though more likely than he would admit out loud.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Bakugo isn’t one to throw the phrase around lightly. He tests it out quietly while watching his partner sleep one night, and thinks about it for a long time before deciding to say it. He originally had the perfect time planned, but it slips out the first time he gets into a disagreement with his partner. Cue the end of the disagreement, two red faces, and a frustrated Katsuki who wishes he had a do over. He isn't too upset about it though because love is messy and it's better to have all of your feelings out in the open. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He really doesn’t get jealous easily because he does have faith in his S/O. That being said, he does get jealous at times. Normally when this happens, he just glares, mumbles a bit and huffs since he knows that you are most likely being oblivious to it. If you were doing it on purpose, he would just tell you to stop because he can’t stand when you try to make him feel jealous since it occasionally makes him feel insecure.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are pretty passionate and clearly full of love. Since he struggles with using his words sometimes, he will usually fix that with his actions. He will tease you, keeping his lips just far enough away from you to make you whine and he will pull away every time you lean in. He honestly loves this game and will tease until finally just giving in, kissing you softly, cupping your face, and biting your lip as he pulls away.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He really tries to be patient with kids, but goddamn to they get on his nerves. He can’t stand how messy they are, how they don’t listen, and just how chaotic they can be. One second the kid is on the ground coloring in a book, and the next they are trying to draw on the walls. If they are a bit older, they make comments about him that manage to hit all of the right buttons to piss him off. If they are young or a newborn, then they just cry, shit, and puke. He can’t handle it and seems snappier around them.

If he does manage to find himself taking care of a more calm kid, it’s almost like he is a completely different person. If they are one or two and are really quiet, and can listen? He doesn’t mind watching them while they scribble on some paper. He might even carry them around while he is cooking dinner. If the kid falls asleep in his arms, he is fucking done for. 

He wants to like kids, but he struggles with finding ones he can handle.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Morning routines are a very calming thing. Usually he will let you sleep in and make breakfast. Once he is done, he will wake you up so you can eat while he goes to shower. When he comes out and finds you eating breakfast, he will kiss you and 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sleeping. Like no kidding he is in bed by 8:30pm most nights, 10pm latest. Before bed, he will often cook dinner for you and then relax. The majority of nights with Katsuki are fairly calm due to his long days at work so watching movies together and binge watching TV shows are a usual thing in the Bakugou household.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He is actually really slow about opening up to you. Like he is slower than the majority due to his fears. Once he realizes how much he cares about you though, he is practically an open book. 

He isn’t one that will just SPILL everything to you, but he is more of a “Ask me whatever, whenever, and Ill tell you the truth”

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Bakugo? He may get irritated frequently, but he is slow to true anger. If he can't fix the problem, it gnaws at him until he blows up (pun intended) at someone. He’s not great at expressing his feelings, or trying to talk about his problems, but it's something he knows he needs to work on. His anger has caused a lot of issues with keeping up relationships, but he's trying to manage it better. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It’s about half and half. For instance, he can remember what your favorite dishes are, who your idols are, and even your workout routine without having to think too hard. Little things he repeats to himself to commit them to memory, but anything that’s said when his attention is somewhere else can get lost. He knows his partner won’t get too frustrated with him if he can’t remember every single detail, but he still tries anyway. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He will never admit it, but one of his favorite moments happened after a horrible fight with a villain that almost cost him his life. This would’ve been pretty early on in the relationship, when he was still unsure if he could say that he loved you fully. That his whole heart was in it. It wasn’t until he was running on fumes, barely able to stand on his feet, when the thought of how scared you must be entered his mind. He had to keep going and make sure that he could come home to you. He would continue to fight until the villain collapsed. 

Katsuki did his best to stay on his feet with his fist in the air, mimicking All Might and Endeavor to show the people he was okay and that he won, but the second the cameras turned off he ended up collapsing. When he woke up again, he was clearly in the hospital. He was going to try to move til he looked down and saw you asleep, head resting on the bed with your hands holding onto his. He could see the tear stains on your cheeks and the bags under your eyes. He refused to move his hand and let you sleep holding him, quickly finding himself in his head thinking about how much he cared about you.

After you woke up and Katsuki was able to go home, You stayed with him in his house since he was still struggling a bit and was told to rest. He was off work for a month so you both spent lots of time together, and this was when he really did know he loved you. He was surprised by how well you worked together, and ended up slipping the L word not long after.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He tries not to act like he is paranoid that something could happen to you, but he’s honestly pretty paranoid. Since he had already been targeted and kidnapped by the League of villains before, he wouldn’t hold it past them to try to kidnap you too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s about 50% most of the time. On a normal date or everyday life, he may suggest something simple to do like watch a movie, eat dinner, and talk. He really doesn’t believe that he should have to go all out all of the time since that will just burn him out. 

During anniversaries and bigger days, he will try a bit more. Get you a nice gift, take you out for dinner to your favorite place, or take you to do something you’ve wanted to do. These days usually get about 75-80%

The only day where he REALLY tries his best to make it special, is the day he would propose to you/give you a promise ring. It’s his way of showing you that he wants you to be there for him no matter what. He will plan for months to do this, eventually making a huge scavenger hunt and getting the Bakusquad in on it til you find him in a whole ass suit, ready to propose/give you the ring. It’s obvious that this took a lot of work, and he tried 100%

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is a hot head and during arguments, will purposely use shit against you to make you upset. He feels like a bastard afterwards, but he always knows that he said what he said. He doesn’t really think before speaking when this shit happens, so really bad arguments could result in him saying some really rude shit.

He swears A LOT. Some people may have a huge problem with this. He tries his best not to at times, usually around kids or your family, but it will still slip out a time or two.

He also tends to interrupt you when you’re talking. He isn’t trying to do it intentionally, but he is so used to just saying what he wants to say that it can just completely cut you off. He will try his best to actually wait, but he still sucks at not interrupting.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is to an extent. His father is a fashion designer and his mom always made sure he looked well put together, so he makes sure he never looks like a slob. Hell even his casual clothes seem to flatter him. 

He does take an interest in makeup, but he doesn’t really wear it much. He may highlight the inner corners of his eyes on a normal day, but that’s usually it. He does have his days where he goes all out with it though, doing orange, green and black eyeshadow that looks pretty damn badass.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If it’s just for a few hours or days, he really isn’t that bad. He may check in on you once or twice but he really isn’t too worried about it. He doesn’t feel incomplete, but he may miss you a little bit.

For a little while, but he is one of those who would move on. If you both broke up, he will be hung up for a few weeks to a couple of months because when he loves, he loves with all of his heart. He will move on though since he knows that being hung up on you could get in the way of him being a hero.

If you died however, he would be lost for a bit longer than a few months. He will still move on after a couple of years, but you will always have a section of his heart. He will visit your grave and tell you all about his new life though. You may be gone, but never forgotten.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) TW: ABUSE AND PANIC ATTACK

Nobody seems to acknowledge this, but he was abused the majority of his life by his mother. Some people will fight me on this headcanon, but you really see it when Toshinori and Aizawa visit the Bakugo household. She not only hits her child, but makes a comment about him being weak and that’s why he got kidnapped. She is victim blaming HIM for being kidnapped by the League of Villains, not really showing any concern for the fact her son could have been killed.

Once he is able to move out, he starts to realize his family life isn’t normal. He will go to Kirishimas’ parents house and they are???So sweet and supportive? He just doesn’t understand and thinks this is the most unusual thing. It’ll finally start to hit him that what he was going through WAS abuse, and he will most likely break down. Not a violent, screaming kind of breakdown, but the kind of breakdown that is heartbreaking to watch.

He will cry. They’ll start as silent tears before slowly amping up into full blown sobbing. He would have to sit down because if he is standing, he might just collapse. His sobs will last maybe 10 minutes before they start becoming more extreme. He will feel a tightness in his chest and will feel like he can’t breathe. If he is alone, he will cover his face with a pillow in an attempt to stop his tears but nothing helps. He will have a HORRIBLE anxiety attack, and if you find him like this you will have to be extremely gentle with him. Not because he would blow up at you, but because he can’t calm down easily and will easily get worked up again.

You would have the best luck by forcing him to sit up and hugging him as tight as you can. Seriously, wrap your arms and legs around him and just squeeze him. He will slowly calm down, it might take up to an hour, but he will calm down. He will be terrified the whole time but you just need to pet his hair, lay him back down and cuddle him.

To be honest, I have a lot of headcanons relating to the unspoken abuse of Katsuki Bakugo but I will leave this here. If you want me to write them all out, just message me and let me know. I’ll make a post about my headcanons about the abuse, the trauma it's caused, and other things like that since I have first hand experience with a scenario that is very similar to how his was depicted.

Disagree with this one if you will, but this is a personal headcanon of mine

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Do fucking not hit him, threaten to hit him, or try to guilt trip him. He actually hates being hit and manipulated, and he will NOT have anybody do that to him. Sure, he may have times where he may play fight, but there is a clear difference between a Katsuki who is playfully fighting, and a Katsuki that is genuinely trying to hurt someone. 

Don’t be a kiss ass to him. If you have an opinion, he wants to hear it. Sure, he may disagree but he is always willing to hear you out and take your point of view into consideration. He doesn’t want to be in a relationship with a fan that will agree with everything he is saying since it can actually be pretty annoying just to have someone tell him yes all of the time.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He has to sleep on his side and he goes to bed pretty early. It’s shown in the manga and the anime that he is in bed by 8:32pm and many think he sleeps so much because of how much energy he uses daily. He really does use a lot of energy. Like have you seen this dude brush his teeth? Like damn dude. Anyway, he sleeps on average of 8-10 hours. 8pm to 4am and the latest he goes to bed is 10pm. He will always be a morning person too, so good luck if you’re a night owl.

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 2: Reconnections, Recollections

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Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Sans is at a loss for what to do. He's lucky his brother isn't the only one who looks out for him, and that he's not the only one looking out for Papyrus... But they both have a lot of work ahead of them.

It had been two weeks. Two long, empty, lonely weeks. Sans hadn’t given up on his brother, per se, but he had given up on looking for him. A check on the numbers revealed nothing out of the ordinary; as far as he could tell, Papyrus was definitely still alive, and there was nothing funky with the timeline. More mundane sources of information continued to come up dry, and the few times Sans had gone out, there was a subtle unease in town. If only Papyrus knew his neighbors missed him... not to mention his own brother. It was like he'd vanished into thin air, and Sans knew that was one thing his brother couldn't do. So he was just... gone.

Sans was starting to feel he'd messed up somehow. He knew he was far from being a perfect or even a really good brother, but he didn’t think he’d done anything to make Papyrus feel running away was necessary…. No, Papyrus would have aired his grievances long before that, he was sure.... But then again, would he? It's not like Sans ever did anything about all the things he nagged him for. Maybe after feeling unheard for so long, he'd left. A cruel voice in his mind liked to whisper as much and worse, and without Papyrus to motivate him, he wasn't doing much to combat it.

He rolled over on the couch and ignored the empty chip bag that crinkled under him, the remains of lunch. Going to Grillby’s had become too taxing sometime last week, and most other foods were similarly inconvenient if they sounded good at all. He wanted nothing more than for Papyrus to burst in and scold him for being so lazy, but dreams of exactly that and the knowledge none of this mattered anyway had spoiled his hopes. He’d just wait, like he always did. He heaved a sigh, and was letting his eyelids drift down when a knock on his door startled him.

He waited, and it came again--much harder.

“Sans?” Undyne called, her voice only slightly muffled by the door. “Sans, you better be in there. I'm gonna bust this down if you don't answer now!”

Oh boy. He hauled himself up, brushed off the worst of the crumbs, and answered the door. Undyne grimaced as she studied him.

“Oh thank god, but dude, you look awful. I was here to see if you were okay, but, I think I just got my answer. C’mon, you’re not staying inside anymore.”

“eh, i’m not really feeling up to going out,” Sans mumbled, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt. “was kinda hoping you had info on my bro, to be honest, but…”

“Sans, no one’s seen you in three weeks,” Undyne stated.

Sans looked up at her with brows furrowed, questioning.

“i was just at grillby’s like… five days ago,” he protested, but Undyne shook her head.

“Grillby himself called me in on a wellness check. It’s been three. Weeks. Two since Papyrus… disappeared. I… guess you lost track of time, huh?”

Sans wilted--he was missing a whole week. “… it really flies when you’re having fun. sorry you went through all this trouble. tell grillby…. i dunno. tell him i’m ok, i guess.”

“You’re not okay,” Undyne growled, snatching the shoulder of his hoodie. “What if Papyrus came home to find you like this? Or—or worse!? Come on! We’re getting you cleaned up, making you eat some real food, and then we’re going out to look for Papyrus because if this keeps going we’ll lose BOTH of you.”

Sans didn’t have it in him to protest. She... she was right. He let her strongarm him into his own house and into the shower—though she gave him his privacy once she’d turned the water on, and the warmth felt so nice he considered staying in for a few days. But that would mean missing out on food he probably wouldn't be paying for, and he was actually hungry now. He washed up and put on the change of clothes Undyne had left him, and when he did finally emerge he found she’d thrown most of the trash away and there was an open spot on the couch. It was fated to remain empty though as she hooked her arm around his shoulders and marched him out the door.

Grillby’s exploded in shock when the two walked in, and they were swarmed by the regulars trying to greet them. Undyne howled, ordering everyone to give Sans some space, and they were finally able to make their way to the bar. If Sans was honest, part of him didn’t really want to be here, but more of him could admit he’d missed it. His friends were quick to fill him in on the latest gossip and jokes, and he realized they were doing for him what he'd done for them so many times before. They were trying to cheer him up.

After enjoying good company and a meal Grillby had assured him was on the house, at Undyne's urging they headed out to begin the search anew. Sans dreaded reaching the tile puzzle now, knowing it was the last place with any evidence of his brother and yet be such a glaring dead end. He sighed, and nudged some of the freshly accumulated snow with his slipper as Undyne talked on her phone behind him.

“Wait a minute, I’ll ask. Hey Sans,” she spoke, tapping his shoulder. “You remember what day it was that all this started?”

“yeah. it was… tuesday, exactly two—well, three weeks ago,” he answered.

“Thanks! Okay, um… as far as I know, he starts at 6 AM, sharp. Yeah. It would’ve taken him a little while to… okay, gotcha. I’ll hang on.”

There was a long pause. Sans wondered if he really could fall asleep standing up. Odds were looking pretty good. He let his eyelids slip down...

“So… you do see something? Uh-huh… that’s too bad about the lens, but you can confirm there was movement here during our timeframe? Awesome. Well, not awesome, but, you know. Thanks Alphys, you’re the best. Talk to you later.”

“well?”

“Dr. Alphys set up these cameras all over to watch for humans, and as it happens, they caught Papyrus walking over here, but not getting any farther than that. Thanks to that snowstorm, this area’s camera got iced over--of course--but she could see enough to make out… something,” Undyne explained. “Hold on, she’s gonna text me a couple pictures.”

There was a ping, and she studied the images with a frown before holding it out for Sans.

“I dunno. I definitely see something, but, can you make any sense of this?”

Sans took her phone and studied the blurry pictures. He could barely make out the trees in the background, but at least the division between them and the snow-covered ground was clear enough. There wasn’t anything that looked particularly like his brother, but there was a whitish arch of something and a smudge of orange that seemed to dart across the frame. It was a better hint than anything they’d had before, but what was it?

Sans squinted at the pictures—wait, was the arch a spine? And his tired mind dredged up memories he hadn't known he had. A lab. A scientist. Two living weapons, the pinnacle of magical engineering--and an accident that erased nearly all evidence it had ever happened. A hand on his shoulder steadied him, and he looked up to see Undyne giving him a worried look. He handed her phone back wordlessly and shoved his hands into his pockets, magic racing.

“Are you okay? You got kinda… unsteady there for a moment.”

“’m fine,” he answered, well aware his eye lights had blinked out.

“Sans, dude, you’re freaking me out,” Undyne called as he walked away, inspecting the edges of the clearing and peering into the trees.

“can i ask you a favor?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“go pick up the least greasy thing from grillby’s you can and wait here. i know what happened to papyrus,” Sans stated, staring into the depths of the forest. The indents were distant and faint from layers of fresh snowfall, but he could see the pattern now and wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before. No points for him, that was sure.

“Uh, sure thing. See you… both? Soon,” Undyne said, and in a blink he was gone.

The forests outside Snowdin were thick and ancient, and most monsters avoided their depths. It was largely the threat of frostbite and getting lost that kept them away, but save for a few exceptions monsters generally preferred company and civilization to untamed forest anyway. If this was where he’d run, it made sense Papyrus hadn’t been found by anyone.

Sans followed his brother’s tracks—long, bounding marks that only increased in distance from one another as he’d picked up speed—and called his name, hoping the trees and snow wouldn’t simply swallow his muted voice altogether. It got darker, and quieter, and there was a growing sense he was trespassing. If he didn’t have his shortcuts Sans might’ve been afraid of losing his way, but it didn’t matter. Shortcuts or not, he would have kept searching now that he had a lead. Considering what the last four weeks had done to him, who knew what state Papyrus would be in.

He eventually found himself in a wide clearing where fresh snow and gusting winds had swept the tracks clean, and sighed. His trail had gone cold again, and he gave a halfhearted laugh at the pun. Papyrus would have hated it…. What he wouldn’t give to hear his exasperated groans again. He called his brother’s name, and listened to it echo faintly until silence laid heavily over him once more. That was the worst of all—the utter silence of an empty world.

Wood cracked behind him, and Sans whirled, magic flaring in his left socket. A pair of orange rings that almost matched met his gaze, and for a moment it was all he saw before he made out the rest of the entity’s face and body from the surrounding gloom. His magic faded, and he sank to the ground. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as they simply stared at one another, but it had to have been at least five minutes before he found his voice and finally addressed the being watching him.

“papyrus?”

A raspy whine answered, and Sans winced. It was his brother’s voice, but weaker, and wordless. Papyrus had always been so proud to learn new words, but now he wouldn’t say even one. This was bad.

“c’mere bro, let’s get you home, huh?”

Papyrus stared for a while, and Sans tried not to listen to the rising panic in his soul. He'd come when he'd called, he had to remember, had to recognize him, right? Why was he still standing so far away...?

"... bro?"

Finally, Papyrus shook himself out, inhaled, then staunchly shook his head with a huff. He hesitated, but did walk over, head held low as he slowly approached. He paused again, only a few feet away and studying him warily—then sat and curled around himself. Sans eyed him sadly, not liking how faint his eye lights were or that he didn’t want to come home. He thought for a while, then leaned back on his hands with a sigh.

“look… i get it. you don’t want to show off your cool bod, it’d be too awesome for anyone to handle and you can’t bear to do that to someone.”

Something that sounded loosely like “nyeh heh heh” chuffed from Papyrus’ jaws.

“but… it’s been three weeks, bro, goin' on a month. everyone wants to know where you went. uh… i’ve been… even lazier than usual without you. i’ll warn ya now, you’re gonna have some major vacuuming to do.”

An exasperated groan rose from his brother.

“i know, i know. but… bro… you can’t be okay with living like an animal out here. I’M not okay with you living like an animal out here. c'mon, undyne’s waiting for us with food, somethin’ hot from grillby’s, and i specifically asked her to get the least greasy thing she could order 'cause i know how you feel about it. there’s a whole month of mtt shows to catch up on. there’s… bedtime stories, and i can’t afford to slack on those, heh…”

Papyrus gave a shuddering sigh. Sans watched as he stretched out his long forelimbs and turned his palms up, contemplating the digits tipped with slender, deadly claws. Then, he buried his face in the snow and laid his hands across his skull, a picture of despair.

“bro, papyrus, it’s ok. you’re smart, you’ll figure out how to change back,” Sans comforted, reaching out to pat his brother’s head. "you're not gonna let something like this get you down, are ya? c'mon. let's go home.”

Papyrus finally raised his head. He looked so tired as he fixed him with a weary look, and Sans’ soul ached. He could only begin to imagine how his brother had felt out here, by himself in a body that must have stirred up old memories—too many of which were unpleasant. But the light shone in Papyrus’ sockets just a little brighter, and he stood up swiftly, head held high.

And then he fainted.

Sans did his best to appear at his side to catch him, but even if skeletons weren’t heavy monsters Sans was decidedly not in shape and the impact made him stumble. He took a moment to regain his footing, but with his brother limp but in his grasp at last, he removed them from that part of reality and placed them back in the tile puzzle room. Undyne jumped at their sudden appearance and would have probably summoned a spear or two if she weren't already holding a takeout bag. Her eye darted over them, and Sans might’ve laughed at her dumbfounded expression if his brother hadn’t still been unconscious.

“What. The HELL. IS THAT?!” she finally shouted as he laid Papyrus down gently, and he bristled at her harsh words.

“excuse you. THAT happens to be my brother.”

Undyne gestured wildly before finding words to express herself again. “BUT? HOW?? WHAT??!”

Papyrus finally moved, his eyes blinking open, though it took a moment for his irises to reignite. Sans ignored Undyne’s flailing and snatched the takeout from her, sitting near his brother’s head and digging around for whatever awaited in the small paper bag. A few days without food wouldn’t affect a monster’s health much, and certainly not someone with high stats like Papyrus, but nearly a month was another story and he was more than a little worried. He withdrew what turned out to be a toasted turkey club sandwich, mentally thanked both Grillby and Undyne for listening, and helped his brother sit up to finally eat something. It wouldn’t be enough to bring Papyrus’ energy back all the way, but he’d be better off than where he was now by a long shot.

The sandwich was snapped up upon being offered, and after a moment Papyrus felt strong enough to stand on his own. Undyne had settled into just staring at them both skeptically, jaw slack and hands clenching and unclenching as if to summon a spear at any moment. Sans crumpled up the bag and stuck it in his pocket, and looked from his brother to the guard captain with amusement. Papyrus looked nervous—or maybe embarrassed, and his first attempt to speak came out as a gusty hiss. But he stepped back, took a moment, and coughed into his fist to clear his throat.

“Hello, Undyne.”

If Undyne had been dumbfounded before, she was well and truly stunned now. She sank to her knees staring, and Sans couldn’t help but laugh at her. A scream started to croak from her, and he decided it’d be best they all headed back to their house before her yelling attracted attention from the other patrols. He beckoned his brother over, and took Undyne’s wrist as he laid a hand on Papyrus’ shoulder, and in an instant they were in the living room... not a moment too soon.

Undyne screeched at the top of her lungs, reaching a truly impressive volume even Papyrus winced at. Her next instinct was apparently to fight, lunging for her friend as if to throw him over her head. Sans darted out of the way as she sped past, and a soft ping sounded before she was flung sideways into the couch. Papyrus gave his brother a disapproving look, but he gave it right back.

“no fighting in my house,” he said, wagging a teasing finger. “sorry to burst your bubble, undyne, but until papyrus is back at full strength i’m not letting you beat him up.”

“I’M NOT GONNA BEAT HIM UP! I’M JUST GONNA PUNCH HIM FOR BEING DUMB!!!” Undyne roared, leaping from the couch and promptly hauled flat on her face. She growled and pushed herself up, only to fly to the ceiling and stick flat on her back. “Will you QUIT with the BLUE MAGIC?!”

“not unless you stop trying to hit my bro,” Sans countered, and Papyrus laid a hand across his eyes.

“Sans, please put Undyne, who need I remind you is our boss, back on the ground?" he asked, voice still shaky from disuse. "I am quite capable of handling her rigorous expressions of affection, thank you.”

Sans looked over to him and sighed. “you’re right as always bro. i just… i know you’re tough and all, but you’re also not at 100 percent and undyne is pretty intense.”

“YOU BET I AM!”

“plus, i haven’t seen you in basically forever after you disappeared, so forgive me for bein’ a little protective.”

Undyne drifted down at last, and though she glared at Sans she didn’t seem intent on continuing her charge when she landed. Instead, she sat decisively on the couch and folded her arms, fixing them each with a sharp look. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. BOTH of you are going to explain what the HECK is going on with Papyrus, and THEN! We’re getting him something else to eat so we don’t have to treat him like a delicate flower.”

“Flowers are actually quite tough!” Papyrus offered, but shrank under a skeptical glare.

“SO! Who wants to start telling me why or how Papyrus ended up as a… dog-dragon-horse thing?”

The brothers exchanged looks.

“It’s just a skeleton thing, you wouldn’t understand,” Papyrus dismissed. “Most of the time I am the wonderful tall fellow you are familiar with, but if I so wish, I can become… this! It’s a thing.”

“yup, it’s true,” Sans confirmed, but Undyne didn’t look convinced.

“So, you could transform into this awesome creature this whole time… and you never told me?!”

“W-well, you see, I never had reason to bring it up! My usual good looks are more than enough as well as more practical for my day-to-day life, so, I much prefer them. Not to mention I… actually completely forgot how to change. Such things happen even to someone as great as me, tragically…” Papyrus explained, his claws fidgeting, "but it's fine! This is totally a normal thing."

Undyne considered his words and finally relaxed. “Huh. Well, do you… remember how to change back?”

“do you think he would have run away if he did?” Sans shot, and she deflated.

“Right. But, if it’s just something you can do, why’d you hide it? There’s all sorts of monsters out there, no one would even blink at you.”

Papyrus grunted nervously. “Consider that this form is considerably more intimidating, and I, already a sight to behold… Not to mention! I want to be known based on my merits--my wit, my battle prowess, my shockingly handsome bones! Not a silly transformation gimmick that wears off within an hour of playing with it.”

Undyne laughed, a welcome sound after her furious screams. “I guess that’s fair. Wait, if this is a skeleton thing… does this mean Sans can do it too?!”

“nope. even if i could... i'm way too lazy for any shapeshifting shenanigans,” Sans answered lightly. “my bro has the ‘cool werewolf’ gig all to himself.”

“I am not a werewolf!!!” Papyrus cried, stomping his feet as the others chuckled. "I am still, clearly, a skeleton!"

“Alright, well, I guess that’s good enough for me. You dudes need anything, let me know, but now that this is resolved I have work to get back to. Oh yeah… Papyrus, consider figuring out how to change back your new assignment. If you really don’t want to go out looking like that, I figure it’s pretty much top priority. And Sans… you get half watch shifts this week, since you’ll probably have to help Papyrus out with… a lot. Sound good?”

“you know i won’t complain about working less,” Sans teased, and she rolled her eye.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you punks later, okay? Call me if you need anything--it's... really good to have you back, Papyrus.”

Papyrus looked like he didn't know what to say.

She finally left, closing the door behind her. Sans heaved a sigh, and debated whether to make the effort to move to the couch or just sit on the floor. He decided the floor was good enough. Papyrus made a face but sat too, drawing his own deep sigh.

“Well, what are we going to do, brother?”

“i dunno, bro. you need something else to eat, for one. but beyond that… i dunno. mostly… i’m just glad you’re back too.”

“If I am honest, it is good to be back. You weren’t kidding about the vacuuming though, ugh. Did you do anything while I was gone?”

“… i slept.”

Papyrus groaned. “You would. In any case… I am still rather famished. As you can guess, the forest... didn't exactly have grocery stores. Pardon me if I don’t cook fresh spaghetti for us, I’m sure you’ve missed it terribly.”

“more than i thought i could,” Sans laughed, and it was true. It had never been the flavor that was enjoyable about Papyrus’ cooking.

Sans proposed various techniques for Papyrus to try changing back over dinner, many of which he’d already thought of and attempted. He continued regardless, suggesting progressively ridiculous remedies until Papyrus laughed at him. They curled up on the couch together to watch TV, and Sans was happy to see his brother’s eyes drift closed—Papyrus never seemed to sleep, even when he really needed it.

No doubt he really needed it now.

The next day saw about as much progress, and Papyrus’ happiness fade. Sans tried to ignore the worry growing inside him, but it was clear that the time alone with no success had done a number on Papyrus’ self-confidence. Toss in whatever memories he might’ve relived and no wonder he was having doubts.

Sans watched him pace the living room floor, occasionally sweeping up stray bits of trash he hadn’t noticed before. He was antsy, and judging by the way his tail lashed he was increasingly agitated by the situation. The fact he had to stay inside probably wasn’t helping either.

“you wanna go let off some steam somewhere?” Sans suggested before his brother could start another transit across the carpet, and he startled out of his thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine! I just need to think!” he replied, standing stiffly. “The Great Papyrus will not be bested yet!”

“no way, but, i was just thinking you might like to get out before you wear a rut in the floor,” Sans continued, and Papyrus glanced at the carpet. There were a few places where his claws had snagged, and they all aligned perfectly with where he’d been pacing.

“Ah. I see your point. Where could we go? I don’t want anyone to see…”

“i was thinking the woods, middle of nowhere. kinda where you ran away to, but not for another three weeks, heh.”

“That sounds suitable. Alright! We do have a nice house but I can admit it is rather cramped for someone of my stature at this time, so! Take us away, brother!”

Sans obliged, and in an instant they stood in the clearing where they’d reunited only yesterday. Papyrus inhaled deeply and took off running, and Sans happily watched him tear across the field—getting some exercise was just what an active guy like his younger brother needed, and it wasn’t fair to make him stay indoors all the time. He leapt, and rolled, and sprinted through the snow, cackling all the while as he exerted himself. Sans waved to get his attention, then summoned a maze of bones for him to dodge and weave around. Papyrus raced through it flawlessly, and Sans couldn’t help but swell with pride. His brother was so cool.

As he watched, he could almost remember what it was like too.

Something juddered out of sync in his soul, and he froze. Oh no, nope, he was not doing this now or ever again. He shut his eyes and thought about how nice it was to be what he was now, tried to focus on how his soul had felt before something else had awakened within it, and was relieved to feel that foreign sensation die away. The Underground didn’t need two of them running around, and Papyrus had always had an easier time switching forms than he did—even when they both remembered how it all worked. Rubbing the side of his skull, he sat in the snow, and when the magic maze dissipated Papyrus came over to see what was wrong.

“Sans? Are you alright?”

“yep, fine. all those bones wore me out.”

Papyrus made a face. “You really do need to work out more! That was hardly anything compared to what you used to do.”

“yeah, well, that was before i discovered being lazy is the best thing in the world.”

Papyrus groaned. “If I need exercise you do too! Come on, lazybones!”

He was hauled up with a clawed hand and nudged in the back by a toothy snout, and gave an exaggerated groan as he stood. “these legs were not made for running, i’ll have you know.”

“Oh, come on Sans, I know you can do it! Chase me!”

Papyrus dashed off once more, and Sans took a few steps before simply cutting into his brother’s path. The indignant howl he got in return was worth being shoved into the snow, and in retaliation he used a touch of blue magic to bowl his brother over. Papyrus kicked, sending a shower of slush over him, and for a moment they just laughed at one another.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you,” Papyrus finally said, pushing from the snow. “You have grown to enjoy a much slower pace ever since we… since whatever happened."

“yup, i’m gonna enjoy every moment i get. though, i will say… without you around to push me, i do get… too lazy,” Sans admitted, then sighed. “to be honest bro... it woulda been fine if you’d given me a sign you were okay, a note, anything, but not knowing if you were ever gonna come back... or why you left... well, it was rough. so, uh, i guess what i’m saying is… don’t do that again or i’ll have to ground you.”

Papyrus studied him, then hung his head. “I’m sorry Sans, I know I should have, but… I was. Uncertain.”

It was Sans’ turn to prop himself up and look quizzically at his brother. “about what?”

Papyrus fidgeted under his gaze, clearly considering his words before he continued. “How much do you remember of what happened to us?"

Sans furrowed a brow. "more than i'd like, but less than i should."

“S-so, w-well, when this, happened, I—I didn’t want you to see. I didn’t want anyone to see, but especially not you, because I remembered—I remembered a little of how bad we had it, and if you didn’t remember, I didn’t want to accidentally remind you,” Papyrus explained, digging his claws into the ground. “And then you came and found me, and didn’t care that I was what I am, and I felt like a fool for thinking it was better I had left without a word. I’m sorry, brother.”

Sans leaned back with a soft, bittersweet chuckle. “and here i always kept the fact i remembered anything a secret ‘cause i didn’t want you to worry either. we’re hilarious, a real comedy of errors.”

“Indeed.”

“anyway. the important thing is figuring out how you can change back. i don’t remember a thing about that myself, and obviously neither do you. seems like a thing you just gotta feel.”

“Agreed,” Papyrus huffed. “It used to be so easy! How did we do that? As effortless as the bones we conjure, as natural as breathing! It’s so… so frustrating Sans. I… I don’t want to be this. It’s so easy to just... let my thoughts slip away. And I remember that... they wanted us to lose them, wanted us to... be less of us. And after all I've worked for, I refuse to go back to that!”

"you got this, bro. despite everything that's happened, it's still you."

“I know… It’s hard though. But! Hard things have never discouraged me before! We just have to keep trying no matter how long it takes!”

“you got it,” Sans said, his mood lifting at his brother’s boundless optimism. “you ready to head back home then?”

“I think I’m going to take one more lap! You should try to as well, and no cheating!”

“if i did we’d be here for another hour. you go ahead, i’ll be right here.”

Sans watched him rise and make one last circuit around the clearing, then in a blink they were both back home. Papyrus shook snow from his talons and gave a contented sigh, then sat with a determined look on his face. He puffed out his chest, and Sans knew he was in for one of his brother’s monologues.

“Now that my restlessness has been cured, it! Is time! I can approach the issue of my transformation with a clear head! The simple fact remains that my memory of the technique has been obscured by forces strange and concerning, but! I was able to recall how to turn with the simple triggering of a distant memory of the instruction to do so, so! It stands to reason that a memory of the opposite instruction will have the same effect. Said memories may be distressing and difficult to pinpoint, but! The Great Papyrus has never been one to back down in the face of danger! Nyeheh!”

“nope. like i said bro, you were the bravest one there,” Sans affirmed, sifting through his own tenuous recall of their old lives. “i was never strong enough to do anything, and the... assistants, well... they never spoke up about animal cruelty either. says a lot about them, and none of it’s good.”

Papyrus looked at him sadly. "You know, Sans... I don't think they knew what we really were. With how he was, how could they? I think even he pretended not to sometimes..."

Sans huffed a short sigh. "yeah. think you might be right about that."

“… I wish it all could have been different.”

“me too.”

“But! It’s different now! We’re the determiners of our fates! And I say I will be this beast no longer!” Papyrus declared brightly, banishing the grim mood that had settled in momentarily. Standing proudly, he scrunched his eyes shut and concentrated—to no avail. He sighed, and let his legs slide out from under him until he lay spread-eagle on the carpet.

“i can’t believe i’m seeing my brother lay down on the floor with my own two eyes,” Sans teased, and Papyrus scrambled to rise.

“Nyeh! Do not think for an instant I was being anything remotely close to ‘lazy’ or ‘tired’!” Papyrus refuted, glaring at him with comically bugged eyes. “The effort of trying to overcome my natural inclination for this form simply took some recovering from!”

“so, you were tired,” Sans summarized, earning more disgruntled complaint from his brother. He’d missed this so much.

“Fine! Yes! I required a brief respite,” Papyrus conceded, sitting back on his haunches so he could fold his arms. “If I am honest I am quite tired of this form’s stubbornness! I know I must have been instructed to change many times, but I cannot recall how I managed such a simple task and it! Is! The! Worst! Thing!”

“wow, and that’s pretty bad, since that means it’s even worse than my jokes,” Sans commented, and his brother stamped his forefeet down.

“It is!”

“well, we better get to work then. undyne said this was your new assignment, i can’t believe how much you’ve slacked off on it already.”

“No! Nooooo!” Papyrus howled, clasping his head in his hands.

The banter continued as the brothers worked to recall what had once been a regular part of their lives. Some memories slowly filtered back, hazes of shadows and sharp objects resolving into people with needles and too-bright rooms full of instruments. Long nights that sometimes became days that became nights again, spent alone and shivering in an empty room. Hours of training for a task neither of them really understood, harsh tests of every aspect of their abilities imaginable, pushing them to the limits of their endurance. Fleeting moments of happiness together.

All encouraged and directed by a man whose words could seem kind, but masked a cruel curiosity and an unbending will. They were never meant to have souls or personalities. He was going to ensure his work continued despite those.

But for all these memories, there were still gaps. Black holes that would never divulge the information that had once been there--and considering the nature of what Sans did remember, he couldn't help but feel perhaps that was for the best. But if Papyrus' memory of how to shift back had been engulfed by one of these voids... then he might not ever remember, and have to figure it out all over again. On Sans’ part, he’d at least recalled why he didn’t know the method to change back, and it had nothing to do with a spotty memory.

“AT LEAST IN YOUR OTHER FORM YOU LOOK MORE LIKE A SUCCESS. NEVER TAKE THIS SHAPE AGAIN.”

The words had stung anew, a biting remark on a small, frail body that was useless to a lab that only made weapons. He ought to at least look the part, and wasn't allowed anything else. It was only the third time Sans had taken that smaller form in the lab; from then on, he'd slowly accepted his life as a beast. It was easier that way.

"I think perhaps we've had enough," Papyrus said in a low voice, shaking him out of a flat stare after recalling that particular memory. "Let's take our minds off things for a while!"

Sans was glad to get up and laze in front of the TV as Papyrus reheated leftovers for them both. MTT had something mindless on as usual, and it was just the thing for drowning out painful memories. Papyrus snorted when he noticed his brother had fallen asleep, and busied himself with cleaning up the dishes before rejoining him on the couch to doze himself. It had been a long day, but more were sure to follow. They needed all the rest they could get.

It wasn't going to come easy.

[osakaso5]

Halloween Event Story

~Fluffy Blast Racing~ Chapter 8: A Farewell

Chapter Index

Haruka: Okay, Toma! Open the tank behind you, and take out the dough.

Toma: Tank? ...Is this the dough? Okay...

Haruka: Now put the apples on top of it.

Toma: Whoa, they got toasted by the attack just now.

Toma: Alright! Here we go!

Torao: I really hope you're not about to tell me that our next line of defense is opening a cooking school.

Minami: Close, but not quite.

Torao: ...Whatever, I'll just leave the strategy to you.

Torao: I'm gonna keep doing my job.

Torao: Hold tight, Toma!

Torao Eviluff: Ah! We got distracted, luff!

Minami Eviluff: They're gonna get a lead on us, luff! Let's stop them, luff!

Toma Eviluff: Take this, luff!

Haruka Eviluff: Get bent, luff~!

Toma: Uh oh! Luckily, that's no match for our Apple Shield!

Haruka: Nice one, Toma!

Toma: Stop throwing food at us! You're just wasting it!

Torao: Haha, now I get it. Flour, butter, and now eggs. All that's left is baking it.

Toma: Whuh?

Minami: Hee hee, that's right. I'm sure they'll provide you just the heat you need.

Toma: Heat..?

Haruka Eviluff: Darn, these guys are too clever, luff... W-we might actually lose, luff!

Minami Eviluff: We've got no choice but to use our final weapon, luff!

Torao Eviluff: If that doesn't stop them, nothing will, luff.

Toma Eviluff: Time to get serious, luff!

Minami Eviluff: We'll burn you to a crisp, luff!

Eviluffs: To a crisp, luff!

Cottons: <L-look out..!>

Toma: Apple Shield, go!

Boom

Cottons: <!!!>

Cottons: <Aaah!!!>

Toma: Wait, this smell...

Torao: Looks like it's ready.

Toma: It was an apple pie this whole time!?

Haruka: Are you saying you didn't notice that earlier?

Toma: I wasn't sure up until now... Why did we make a pie, anyway!?

Minami: The wrecks we inspected had traces of apples and flour.

Torao: Wow, I didn't even notice.

Haruka: Plus, the streets were full of candy wrappings and stuff.

Torao: ...In other words, it's pretty clear that these eviluffs...

Minami: ...Have quite the sweet tooth.

Toma: Seriously..!?

Minami: Now that the pie is done, you can use its scent to distract them. That will be your chance to surpass them!

- - - -

Torao Eviluff: Ugh, can't concentrate when there's a yummy apple treat nearby, luff...

Toma Eviluff: I'm getting hungry, luff...

Haruka: We can do this! Let's win..! 

- - - -

Announcer: Goal! 

----

Toma: Awesome, we got first place!

Torao: We sure did!

(Cheers)

Haruka: Well done, Toma and Torao!

Minami: You did great out there. It was an amazing race.

Torao: We couldn't have done it without your plan.

Toma: Yeah! You guys saved our butts!

Red Cotton: <Well done, all of you! That was a wonderful race!>

Toma: Heh, thanks! I'm so glad we won!

Torao: All that's left is to talk things out with the eviluffs.

- - - -

Torao Eviluff: I hate to admit it, but you beat us fair and square, luff...

Toma Eviluff: And whoever raced the fastest gets to have the colony, luff...

Minami Eviluff: We'll do what you say from now on, luff.

Haruka Eviluff: Just tell us what you want, luff...

Brown Cotton: <The eviluffs...>

Beige Cotton: <All we want is to enjoy racing together, like we used to.>

Eviluffs: Huh..?

Beige Cotton: <Why don't we join forces, so we can all make the most out of the Mecca of racing..?>

Eviluffs: ........

Toma Eviluffs: But, we did all that bad stuff, luff...

Torao: Sabotage aside, I could tell that your racing technique and style are pretty solid.

Toma: Yeah, you could totally hold your own without cheating!

Eviluffs: .......!

Haruka: It's no fun to win with dirty tricks, anyhow.

Torao: Racing is only exciting when you've got strong competition.

Toma: Torao's right! Nothing feels better than a fair victory!

Haruka: We've never won before.

Toma: We did this time!

Minami: Besides, I think talented racers such as yourselves will be just the thing to breathe some life back into this city.

Eviluffs: ........

Minami: Work together with the cottons, and you'll have many more races to look forward to.

Beige Cotton: <We would love to have you..!>

Eviluffs: M-maybe, if you insist, luff...

Haruka: Just admit that you wanna do it, already.

Minami: Their shyness reminds me of a certain someone.

Haruka: A-and who's that!?

Toma Eviluff: A fair victory... That doesn't sound too bad either, luff.

Minami Eviluff: I'm getting tired of using dirty tricks, luff.

Torao Eviluff: And I want more opponents than you guys, luff.

Haruka Eviluff: I guess we've got no choice but to help you, luff.

Green Cotton: <Eviluffs... Thank you!>

Toma: Great..! This is another one of those wing-wing situations Haruka mentioned!

Haruka: You mean win-win. It's not that hard to remember, seriously.

Beige Cotton: <For starters, could you help us clean the city?>

Eviluffs: ...Okay, luff.

Minami: Do it properly.

Toma Eviluff: Y-yeah, yeah, luff! That guy's smile is pretty scary, luff...

Minami: I'm sorry, did you say something?

Toma Eviluff: W-we'll do it properly, luff!

Haruka Eviluff: But you have to promise that we get a treat after we're done, luff...

Haruka: You mean the apple pie?

Minami: Fair enough. You can enjoy the pie after you're done.

Eviluffs: Awesome, luff!

Torao: Wow, this city's actually pretty nice.

Minami: I had no idea it used to look so adorable.

Toma: Let's check out all these shops before we go home.

Haruka: I was just getting a little hungry, anyway!

Green Cotton: <We can show you the way to this planet's greatest restaurant!> 

Beep beep

Minami: ...Oh?

Toma: What's wrong, Minami?

Minami: The warp zone's energy readings are getting weaker and weaker all of a sudden.

Haruka: What does that mean?

Green Cotton: <.......! My apologies! We've forgotten to tell you something very important!>

Toma: What's that?

Red Cotton: <Yes, the warp zone from our planet to yours is about to close!>

Torao: Just open a new one, then.

Brown Cotton: <Actually... and I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, I truly am...>

Brown Cotton: <The next warp zone won't be accessible for another 25 years...>

Brown Cotton: <Warp zones require massive energy reserves to work, you see...>

All: 25 years!?

Toma: W-we need to get home, stat!

Torao: Yeah, I'm not staying like this for 25 years.

Red Cotton: <We're terribly sorry..!>

Red Cotton: <Fusing with you was so comfortable that we forgot all about our time limit.>

Haruka: You forgot..!?

Torao: In any case, let's hurry to the warp zone!

Minami: ...I feel like we're forgetting something...

Haruka: C'mon, Minami! We've got no time to stand around!

Minami: Right...

Brown Cotton: <Thank you all for your help!>

Red Cotton: <We couldn't have reached this agreement with the eviluffs without you!>

Green Cotton: <Not to mention your race was simply thrilling to witness!>

Beige Cotton: <I hope you'll come visit us again someday.>

Toma Eviluff: When you do, we'll beat you fair and square, luff!

Torao Eviluff: We won't lose again, luff!

Toma: Yeah! I'm looking forward to it!

Toma: You better train hard if you wanna race us again!

Haruka: There's the warp zone!

Beige Cotton: <Farewell, until we meet again!>

Minami: Yes, farewell...

Toma: Get a move on, Minami!

Torao: We're jumping in!

Beige Cotton: <Defusion!> 

- - - -

All: Aaaaah..! 

- - - -

Toma: W-we're home..?

Minami: It seems we are.

Torao: My body..! Phew... it's back to normal.

Haruka: Feels like it was all just a dream. Like none of it was real.

Minami: ...Ah.

Haruka: What is it?

Minami: I knew we'd forgotten something... The prize money...

Haruka, Toma, & Torao: ........

Haruka, Toma, & Torao: Aaaaaaaaah!!!

Torao: Y-you're kidding, right!?

Haruka: What did we even go there for..!? All our hard work was for nothing!!!

Toma: Our racing money...

Minami: ...To be fair, we don't even know if we could've used alien money to enter a race on Earth...

Haruka: Good point...

Toma: And it's not like we can go back for it now...

Torao: ...We won a race in space. I guess that means we're the greatest team in the galaxy.

Toma: Whoa, that's actually pretty cool!

Haruka: Greatest team in the galaxy..!

Minami: I like the sound of that.

Haruka: And we had fun! We could never do anything that crazy here.

Toma: Haha, true! I think we're probably the only people in the world who've baked an apple pie during a race!

Toma: We can still earn our racing fees through hard work, like we always do.

Minami: Heh, I suppose you're right.

Toma: Ah... Minami! Don't put any weird devices on our cars here, okay!

Torao: Right, I don't want anyone hospitalized because of your bad puns.

Toma: I feel like I'm gonna see those knives in my nightmares...

Haruka: You should've seen the look on your faces. I wish I'd brought a camera.

Minami: You looked to be having the time of your lives. I'm glad you enjoyed my devices.

Toma & Torao: We did NOT!!!

Minami: ...Chit chat aside, it's about time for us to close the shop for today.

Toma: I'm feeling pretty tired...

Haruka: I'm hungry!

Torao: And we're in for a lot of work, starting tomorrow.

Toma: Yep, the greatest racers in the galaxy still need their Earth victory! Let's do our best!

All: Yeah..! 

The End.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Holding On for Dear Life

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC Warnings: Medical, Illness, Sexual Content Rating: M Length: Multi Chapter Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Okay, this is something that I have been wanting to write for a long time, but never got to it. It’s not exactly polished a I would like right now, but wanted to posted the first part to see how it went over. Keep in mind, I am doing my best to go about Emmer and her illness as correct as possible, but a good portion of her is actually personal. I mean sure I can bog us all down with medical by the book, but personally I like my own life experience better. 

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

Catch Up Here

Hospitals, yuck!

Hvitserk wasn't a fan, then again was anyone?

Ironic that they would be there on the anniversary of them meeting, in this very hospital. Waiting for his best friend – sometimes girlfriend, Hvitserk had sat quietly watching a news programme on mute with captions scrolling across the screen. After what felt like ages, Emmer emerged, slightly sore and exhausted asking Hvitserk if he could take her home.

Cozy in her apartment, Emmer yawned and insisted that Hvitserk was fine to leave her. She'd been through this before, it was nothing new. Bed rest, only fluids, and pain meds only when the label dictated. Although Hvitserk admired her trying to ship him off, he knew better. The last time he listened to Emmer, she had gone and ordered a large pizza and proceeded to eat half of it. Landing her back in the bathroom sicker than when she'd gone to the hospital.

This time, he refused to leave.

“Hvits, I'm fine.” Emmer rubbed her eyes, yawning from the cocktail of medications that she'd received at the hospital.

“Nope, you're not getting rid of me.” Hvitserk shook his head, fluffing the pillow on her couch. He had zero intentions of moving, besides he was too tired to drive again. It didn't matter that his apartment was only a block away.

Hands on her hips, head cocked, Emmer scowled. “I'm not Ivar.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Hvitserk smirked laying down on her couch and yawning.

His baby brother was a far worse patient than Emmer ever thought of being. Although their diseases were nothing alike, they'd both had their fair share of surgery and hospital visits. It was during one of Ivar's stay overs that Hvitserk had wandered the halls of the ward, bumping into the frail girl with the IV pole. Emmer had recovered, gained strength, and a Hvitserk all in a few short months.

“Hvits,” Emmer whined.

“Bed, Emmy. The doctor said you should be on bed rest until tomorrow. You know the drill. If you need me, I won't be far. But I need some sleep, first.” Closing his eyes, Hvitserk took a deep breath, snuggling into the blanket that he'd pulled down from the back of the couch.

Ignoring her would eventually work, growing bored of sitting in the kitchen alone, Emmer would go to bed. If this were under any other circumstance, Hvitserk would have gone to bed with her. Knowing that she'd been in so much pain a few short hours ago, he didn't want to crowd her. Giving her space to wrap her head around the night's events.

Emmer was unfazed and not at all bothered by what had happened, but spending hours in the ER with a blocked stoma took a lot out of a person. Ulcerative Colitis was a cruel mistress, not only causing severe abdominal pains and cramping, but leaving one swollen joints, ulcers in various places, and fatigue. One time Emmer had told Hvitserk on top of that, it was literally the shittiest disease ever. Pun and no pun intended. Tonight's trip had been courtesy of something causing a block in Emmer's small intestine. Unable to pass, sending blinding pain shooting through her abdomen.

She'd called Hvitserk around the third hour of vomiting, asking for him to come over and keep her company. Arriving to find Emmer in the bathroom on the floor soaked in sweat, complaining that she was dizzy Hvitserk grabbed her emergency bag and escorted her to the car.

“Damn peas,” Emmer mumbled leaning against Hvitserk on the way to the car. She'd known better than to eat them, but she couldn't resist. They were there in all their green glory taunting her.  

Home and somewhat comfortable in her bed, Emmer laid looking through her phone. Hvitserk on the other side of the door, stretched out and sleeping on the couch. Outside in the morning sun, the birds sang and the city slowly came to life. Oblivious to what some people were going through.

Each person lived their own life on their own path. Emmer had always believed that, even more so now. Her path had taken a turn, sick for months on end without reason or cause. Doctor's office after Doctor's office. Specialist after Specialist. Disease had nearly ruined her life. Easily, she could have allowed it, but why?

So she'd had some surgeries, a ruptured bowel, no large intestine, and had a bag on her side which was now her new bowel. It wasn't the end of the world and certainly wasn't the end of her life. Emmer enjoyed the freedom it had given her, now she was able to go places and not worry about whether or not she would be left in tears, over not being able to find a public restroom.

Meeting Hvitserk days after her first surgery had been another weird little blessing. He was quirky, sweet, and his own kind of funny. Not to mention he was a pretty good boyfriend. He was patient and gentle, even sticking around to be the supportive best friend when they weren't dating.

Rolling on her right side with a slight wince, Emmer rubbed her tummy above the spot where her bag resided.

“Really Eir?” She rolled her eyes at the grumbling stoma. “Now you're talking?”

Whatever. She shook her head, closing her eyes. Hvitserk would be in shortly, she was sure of it. His love for her plush bed would eventually take over, once he realized the couch was a tad to short.

Stretched out on the couch, his feet resting on the arm rest at the end, Hvitserk was surprisingly comfortable. Although he wished Emmer's couch was about seven inches longer. It was plush, comfortable, and like a cloud, until his ankles began to go numb. Curling his legs up, Hvitserk shifted over onto his side trying to stop his feet from tingling.  Picking his head up, when he heard the bedroom door open.

No matter how hard she tried, Emmer wasn't exactly stealthy. The bottom door hinge and the floor board right outside of her door gave her away. Hvitserk pushing himself to sit up, scratching the back of his head, he looked like he'd been the one in the ER all night, in pain.

“Hey Hvits,” Emmer raised her hands over her head, stretching her shoulders, then dropping them. “What's for breakfast?”

“Why are you out of bed?” Hvitserk scowled with concern.

“Because I'm not tired? The day awaits us, Hvits.”  She'd slept for three hours, it was almost 10AM. Time to be awake and out doing something.

“Your day is going to be spent in bed, binge watching cheesy sitcoms, while drinking tea, and eating broth.” Hvitserk smiled wide at her. “I'll even join you, once I clean up a bit.”

“You don't have to clean my apartment.” Emmer rolled her eyes at him. “I can do it.”

“I know, but I want to help. Besides, if I stay here it's an excuse not to go home. Ubbe had a new lady friend over, I should at least give her time to get out.” He shrugged. His older brother really needed to pick one of his rotating women and settle.

“He still on the rebound?” Emmer dropped onto the couch beside Hvitserk. Leaning over onto his shoulder, glancing up at him.

“Yep,” Hvitserk nodded. “Margrethe really fucked with his head. We have a talent for picking bat shit crazy women, you know. I think it's genetic or some shit.”

“Your mom isn't bat shit crazy.” Emmer countered. “She's just angry that your dad kept fucking around on her.”

“Understandable, although what did she expect? He did meet her, while he was married.” Rubbing his face, Hvitserk sighed. His family would never be up for any sort of Family of the Year awards.

“Your dad still seeing Yidu?”

“Nope, she grew some common sense and left.” Rolling his eyes, Hvitserk scoffed. “Did you know she's the same age as Bjorn?”

“I had a feeling she wasn't your dad's age.” Emmer shrugged. “Every family has their bullshit, what can I say?”

“There is family drama and then there is the Lothbroks. But, enough about my parents. How do you feel, now?” Leaning his head on top of Emmer's; Hvitserk nuzzled his nose into her hair. “And for the record, you're not bat shit crazy.”

“Thank you, I think.” Emmer laughed. “And I'm still a little sore, but feeling better. Really, I'm hungry. Can we eat?”

“Sure, but you're not getting anything solid.”

“Well, ice cream isn't solid. Oh! Let's go get ice cream.”

“Or, you can stay here, in bed while I go get some ice cream and bring it back. What kind do you want? Chocolate?” Hvitserk slowly lifted his head from Emmer's. “I can also bring back some coffee. Iced latte with almond milk and one shot of caramel syrup?”

“Yes! Yes that sounds amazing!”

“Alright, I will go get previsions. You stay in bed and rest. I shouldn't be long. Promise me, you won't try to do anything until I am back?”

“Well, I may shower.” Emmer shrugged, pretending to smell herself. “I stink like hospital, you know how much I hate that.”

“Fair enough, but nothing else. I will do the housework, when I get back. Okay, Em? I don't want you to get hurt or over strain yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Emmer nodded. “Okay, fine, I will behave. Now go, I want my latte and ice cream.”

“Bossy Britches,” Hvitserk mumbled, grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet.

“Damn right I am!” Emmer called after him, gently tossing a pillow from the couch at his back.

Turning to blow her a kiss, Hvitserk laughed, closing the door behind him. A click indicated that he'd used his key to lock the door, saving Emmer from having to get up and walk twenty feet to the door. Hvitserk was always that way, making sure she was taken care of and he did anything to make her life easier.

Sometimes, it was annoying. Others, it was welcomed. Especially on days when Emmer had no energy. Some days she could barely make it out of bed, those were the days when Hvitserk's overbearing need to cater to her were welcomed the most. He was good at knowing when she needed him to take over, but not so good when knowing he had to back off.

Emmer adored him, but had no problems telling him when to lay off or go away.

In a family of six children, Hvitserk was number 4.

Since an early age, he had been the caretaker. Right after his older, half, sister Gyda. He was constantly taking care of his younger brother Sigurd while his mother focused on his baby brother, Ivar. Gyda kept her brothers from killing one another, while Hvitserk kept Sigurd from somehow killing himself. A task and a half to take on as a five year old. If they wanted Ivar to see his 10th birthday, it was a small price. Twenty years later...

Hvitserk had the ice cream in the car, thankful that the coffee shop wasn't overly busy. Along with their drinks he had gone ahead and ordered brown sugar oatmeal for Emmer and a bacon sandwich for himself. Food in hand, he tapped his foot lightly to the music that softly played through the shop. Lost in his thoughts and tiredness, he jumped when his phone rang.

“Hel-”

“Where are you?” Ivar huffed over the phone.

“I'm getting breakfast and heading back to Emmer's.” Hvitserk smiled his apology to the barista as he accepted the iced latte and the flat white. “Why?”

“You were supposed to drive me to that appointment, this morning. I tried calling you.” Ivar grumbled. Hvitserk didn't have to see Ivar's face to know it was twisted in a scowl. “I had to get an uber.”

“Sorry, fuck. Shit.” He hissed. “Ivar, look I'm sorry. Em had to go to the emergency room. She wasn't well and I had to stay with her.”

“So getting laid, because you played the hero, is more important than family?”

“No, Emmer had an emergency. Listen, I'm sorry. I am. Where are you now? I can come get you, before I go back to Em's.”

“Gyda came to get me. Unlike some people, she cares.”

“I care, Ivar.” Hvitserk defended himself. His younger brother was so dramatic. It came with being the baby. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Fuck you.”

Hvitserk sighed, the line went dead with a beep. Whatever. Ivar would get over it. Eventually.

It wasn't like Hvitserk intentionally forgot about his brother. Had Emmer not needed him, he would have drove Ivar as promised. Ivar was more than capable of getting places on his own, he simply refused.  Unlocking the car, Hvitserk groaned and shook his head. Ivar was petulant, but still his brother.

Whatever, he could worry about that later. Right now, Hvitserk had to deliver ice cream and an iced latte, before Emmer sent out a search party or put a bounty on his head.

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