#I... *may* have broken my ‘only spend one hour on this on week days’ rule already :’)

[grumpyoldsnake]

Inktober 2018 Day 2:

The Felidaen artifact is a construct of unknown origin and unknown purpose. She is sentient, but recalls nothing of her creators. She believes that she was lost or abandoned either before her first activation or before she attained full cognition.

While the original intent behind her creation is unknown, it did presumably have something to do with interdimensional pursuits; Felidaen both generates and exists within a pocket dimension, and she is incapable of leaving it.

Felidaen remained in a partially dormant state, largely for lack of any mental stimulation, for an unknown period of time. But eventually, a wandering spirit named Waehua discovered her dimension and awakened her in the process.

Felidaen is capable of projecting an animated likeness of herself in order to interact with her surroundings, but much like Felidaen herself, this projection cannot leave her pocket dimension. She is entirely incapable of interacting with the outside world in any direct capacity.

(I’m talking about my settings and characters this month! Check out my “Abime Spire worldbuilding” tag to see everything in order.)

[whimsicallyreading]

An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

[weareallstoriesintheend]

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

[simps-and-scribbles]

Kakashi x FemReader (NSFW) - Forgiving

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Romance, Comfort  Rating: Mature, Explicit Words: 4438 Warnings: nsfw, +18, explicit sex, oral, mature

Summary: you and Kakashi have a misunderstanding, some words are said, feelings are hurt, but then you make up 😏

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly walked down the streets of Konoha. I didn’t know where I was going. It was late, most people were probably in bed sleeping by now. The bright moon was the only thing lighting up my unknown path. The tears had stopped falling, I wasn’t even sure when I had stopped crying or how long ago it had been since I’d run out of the apartment that I shared with Kakashi, crying. It felt like a couple hours at least, I stopped and looked around, realizing I may have just walked the entirety of Konoha. I wasn’t too far from our apartment, but I didn’t know if I could go back.

It had been our first big fight since getting together. The things he had said, hurt me. I had never seen him like that before. He had always been so calm and considerate. 

I saw the turn for our street coming up, should I go back. What if he still didn’t want to see me? I felt the tears start to well up again behind my eyes. Even though his words had hurt, I still loved him. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Maybe I could slip in quietly and sleep on the couch until morning. Maybe there was still a chance we could figure this out. With a newfound confidence I made the turn down the dimly lit street back to the apartment.

Earlier that Day:

Kakashi had been away on a mission for a couple weeks now. It of course was an A rank mission. I wish the Hokage would give him some easier missions, even if just for my sake. These harder missions always turned my stomach into knots. I knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, and that the squad would protect each other, but it had already been a day since he was supposed to have returned. My knots intensified by 100, he had never been late returning from a mission. We hadn’t been dating that long, but one of the rules we had set for each other was to always check in as soon as we finished reporting to the Hokage.

I had asked to be kept from going on missions for the next few days in hopes of getting to spend some time with Kakashi. So far it had only made me worry more. To make matters worse I had run into my ex outside the pharmacy while I was looking for an antacid for my stomach. I had broken up with him a couple months before dating Kakashi and although he knew I was in a new relationship, he never seemed to take the hint. I indulged him begrudgingly with a fake smile for a few minutes before politely excusing myself. He was so draining and egocentric, it had been the main reason I had broken up with him. I sighed as I noticed the town gossip Ritsuka, quickly avert her gaze as I walked away from Daisuke.

For as long as I could remember I’d had a crush on Kakashi from afar, but he was an elite, and all of his friends were hero’s of Konoha. He lived in a different world than me, a different life, there was no way I could be a part of that. At least that’s what I had thought, until we’d been placed in the same squad for a mission with him as the captain. It was an easy B rank mission, the type of mission that Kakashi NEVER did. I was shocked to say the least, while also trying to contain my excitement at the same time. It wasn’t until later than I found out that he had taken the mission to get to know me better. 

I smiled dumbfoundedly to myself in the middle of the street at the memory of that mission. It was getting into the afternoon of the second day, and I felt like I was going to throw up, Kakashi still wasn’t back. What if something terrible had happened? I stopped by my civilian friend Setsuna’s locally owned grocery store, with plans to make one of Kakashi’s favourite meals when he returned.

My face paled as an intrusive thought of him lying bloodied and beaten in the forest forced its’ way into my head again. The knots were back.

“[y/n], are you feeling alright?” Setsuna asked “you look pretty pale.” I turned to her and proceeded to tell her my worries, feeling I could no longer keep them to myself. And that’s how I ended up staying at Setsuna’s drinking sake late into the evening. The strong liquid definitely helped to calm my nerves and the gigglefest Setsuna and I had helped release some of the stress. It was much needed and catching up with her had been great since we hadn’t visited recently.

I carried two bags with me as the summer sky continued to darken. The sun had already set, but the purples and blues of the fading sunset prevented it from being completely dark. One bag contained the ingredients for the supper I planned to make and the second bag; I blushed at the thought of it. It contained a set of lingerie that Setsuna had bought for herself but said it didn’t fit. As a joke I had asked her to let me try it on and surprisingly it fit perfectly. She had then insisted I take it, at no cost and make myself Kakashi’s gift. My blush was still on my face as I opened the door to the apartment.

I should have felt his presence sooner, but I had been so wrapped up in my perverted thoughts that I didn’t feel his chakra until I was standing there in the front entrance. “Kakashi!” I breathed out. He was leaning, with his back against the wall, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tightly fitted black tank with an attached mask, his headband was still lifted exposing his sharingan and he was reading Icha Icha. My eyes roamed over his body, searching for wounds, while at the same time trying to prevent myself from jumping him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem hurt at all, I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re home, what held you up?”. He was at least a head taller than me, I shivered as the thought of him holding me in those beautifully sculpted arms. Jeez I really am a pervert.

“Just some extra rogue ninja” he said flatly as he closed his book and turned to walk down the hallway. Something was off, we always greeted each other and spent time when we were reunited after long missions.

“Um, I bought some ingredients for dinner, I thought I would ma—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut me off. This was weird, what was going on?

“Hey, is everything okay?” I asked gently.

“Everything’s fine” outwardly he appeared calm, but I could hear the strain in his voice and see the tenseness in his muscles. 

“Kakashi, if something happened on the mission you can tell me.” I pressed a little walking toward him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched ever so slightly, causing me to draw my hand back. My brows knitted in confusion. A long silence settled between us before he answered.

“I looked for you.” He said quietly.

“I was out doing errands all day, we must have missed each other,” I said trying to dissipate the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“I ran into Ritsuka,” my stomach dropped, what had Ritsuka told him. I knew that her seeing me with Daisuke today was too good for her to pass up. She had been trying to get with Kakashi for the longest time and the whole village knew it “She said she saw you talking with your ex, Daisuke.”

“I just ran into him, it wasn’t anything” I said trying to make him see this was a misunderstanding

“She said you left with him,” his voice was still low facing away from me, his hands were clenched at his sides

“That’s a lie! Nothing happened!” My voice raised slightly in desperation.

“Then why were you blushing when you came in the door!?” he said through gritted teeth, his body turning and eyes locking with mine, his sharingan burning an intense red. That gaze of his always gave me chills. My mind wandered back to the lingerie still sitting in the bag and the thoughts I’d had of wearing it tonight for him. I felt the heat creep up my face, and I knew my blush was plain as day on my face. As soon as that happened Kakashi’s eye widened, and I knew he had gotten the wrong idea. “Kakashi wait, I –”

“get..out..” he said quietly.

“Kakashi, listen!”

“I don’t want to be with someone who runs straight back to their ex for a good fuck as soon as I leave the village” he said quietly again his back turned to me.

Kakashi POV:

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them, my small insecurity that had been growing had finally gotten the best of me and I’d projected them onto her. I heard small crying noises behind me, and the guilt gripped my heart. I needed to fix this, as I went to turn around I heard the two bags she had been carrying drop to the floor. I only saw her back running out the front entrance, her hair flying behind her as the door slammed shut. The ingredients for eggplant miso soup rolled out of the bag, my favorite.

I slammed my fist sideways against the wall then turned my back to it and slid down. What had I done!? I knew [y/n] would never actually cheat on me, she wasn’t that kind of person. She was kind and caring, but with a spark of passion that drove me crazy. She had first caught my eye over a year ago, but at the time she had still been with that dimwit Daisuke. I’ll never understand what she saw in him. What had her blush been about though? My jealousy had flared in that moment, when I thought it was possible that they had actually been together. Her blush was so cute, I wanted it all to myself. But I hadn’t even allowed her to explain herself.

Daisuke had taunted me, just before my last mission. I’d had the unfortunate pleasure of running into him outside the Hokage tower. I’d paid him no mind, there was no reason for me to greet him since we weren’t acquaintances or comrades. He’d whispered to me as we crossed paths, “Don’t worry I’ll keep her company while you’re gone”. My step had faltered slightly, but I didn’t want to give him the benefit of seeing my doubt. I kept walking giving him no indication that I’d even heard him, but his taunt had followed me throughout the whole mission. My thoughts of [y/n] and my need to get back to her only increased the longer the mission dragged on. Even though I knew his taunts couldn’t be true, my mind began to fill with thoughts of them together, fueling my jealousy and bad mood. I’d gone a little overboard dealing with the rogue ninjas we ran into on the way back.

I sat on the floor, back to the wall, my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. How long had it been? Minutes, hours? Had she gone to Daisuke’s? No stop thinking about that. Even if she hadn’t gone to Daisuke’s, she wouldn’t come back to him either. He’d accused her of cheating with no proof whatsoever. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, what if she never came back? Had he lost the only thing he loved again?

[Y/N] POV:

I tried to open the door as slowly as I could, without it creaking. Surely Kakashi had gone to bed by now. The moon was behind me and as I opened the door, it illuminated Kakashi, sitting in the hallway. His back to the wall, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. His eyes were tightly shut, and his teeth were clenched. He looked like he was in pain. “Kakashi….” I whispered. My heart ached at the sight of him. I wanted to comfort him, but I was still so hurt by his words. His eyes opened and his face relaxed slightly at the sound of his name. He stood from his position on the floor and faced me.

“[Y/N], I’m…..I….” he looked away from me “tch” he clenched his teeth again “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.” He said letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’m sorry about what I said.” He unclenched his fists and hung his head low in acceptance.  

All thoughts of our fight had left me, I just wanted to be with him. He looked so lost and broken. I approached him slowly in the darkened hallway, the moonlight casting a soft glow upon us. His eyes were still closed, with my right hand I reached up to place my palm upon his cheek, while intertwining my left had with his at our side. “Kakashi…” I whispered, he opened his eyes a crack to look down into mine, the tomoes of the sharingan swirling lazily. “I love you.” I lifted myself up on my tiptoes to place a soft chaste kiss upon his covered lips, my palm still resting gently on his cheek. I felt him release our intertwined hands and a moment of disappointment flitted through me.

Suddenly, he grabbed his mask with his freed hand drawing it down before lowering his lips to mine in a passion filled kiss. In relief I responded with equal passion, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck. The force of his kiss was pushing me backwards and I felt his hand wrap around my waist, turning to push me into the wall, while the other one cradled my head. He ran his tongue along my lip and I eagerly opened my mouth for him. A gasp left me as I let him devour my mouth, “Kakashi….” I moaned when I was able to get a breath in. 

His lips descended to the spot on my neck just below my ear where he sucked at the pulse. “I thought you might not come back” he whispered, pressing his body closer to mine. His hot breath on my neck caused me to release little moans, my legs felt weak from the intensity of his kisses on my neck. I hooked a leg around his to steady myself.  In response he grabbed both of my thighs, lifting me up to wrap them around his hips and push me further into the wall.

We were hungrily kissing each other, I had one hand running through his soft hair and the other tracing patterns down his chest. His hands slipped under my tank top and was exploring the soft skin at the dip of my waist and curve of my back. His rough hands felt so good on my skin. I moaned in pleasure as his fingers moved slowly over my sides. I frustratingly gripped at the tank top, desperate to feel his hot skin and muscles under my fingertips. Reaching down with both my hands I grabbed the bottom hem of the tank and brought it over his head, breaking our kiss for a mere second. My hand returned to tracing patterns down his chest and abdomen, feeling the strong muscles contracting under my touch. A low moan almost like a growl escaped him, I felt so powerful knowing I could make him feel just as much pleasure as he gave me.

A second later I gasped in surprise as the hand that had been on my back unclasped my bra and made its way to cup my breast. I instantly let out a desperate moan as his large hand massaged my breast and pinched my hardened nipple. His lips were now working at my collarbone. I could feel my underwear getting wetter as the pleasurable feeling in my lower belly increased. “mmmhmm, Kakashi” I moaned, pressing myself into him harder, I could feel his hardened member grinding against my leg through his thin sweatpants

“[Y/N], I need you.” he growled out, while pushing me harder into the wall, like we couldn’t get any closer, his fingers pinched and pulled at my nipple again.

“Ahh,” I yelled out and he took that as an opportunity to capture my mouth again “Me too”, I said looking into his eyes when he released my mouth.

“I want these off of you” he said as he began pulling at my tank top and bra. The feeling of our hot skin pressing against each other was bliss. We continued kissing as Kakashi’s hand gripped under my legs and carried us to the couch. He lowered me down onto the couch and remained hovering above me, his intense gaze drifting over my body. My eyes took in his defined arms, shoulders and perfectly toned abs. I ran my hand over his stomach feeling the hot muscles. I glanced down to the bulge in his sweatpants and reached out to gently massage it.

“unnnh” he moaned his eyes closing tightly. He lowered his body to mine and whispered in my ear “I want to pleasure you first” and began kissing down my neck to my collarbone and chest before taking one of the hardened nipples in his mouth.

“aaah, Kakashi that feels so good.” I moaned as he swirled his tongue around the nipple and gently bit on it.

Releasing the nipple and giving it a soft kiss he said “I’ll make you feel even better” as he continued to slide further down, licking my stomach as he went. His fingers slid around the edge of my shorts and began pulling them down. My heartbeat increased as my lower region was exposed to the cool air. Kakashi settled himself, kneeling between my legs, lifting one leg over his shoulder. He brought a his middle finger to my core and ran it up and down my lower lips. I let out a strangled gasp, as it slid easily over my wet core. “[Y/N], you’re so wet for me,” he smirked placing a kiss on the inside of my thigh.

“It’s you’re fault you know.” I said defensively with a pout.

“Good.” He stated with the a satisfied smirk on his face. My heart was beating hard in my chest as I watched him lower his head to settle between my legs. I felt his hot breath on my wet core, and I moaned in anticipation. It felt like forever before his tongue ran up the length of my core and his nose bumped my clit, my breath hitched as I cried out from the pleasure. He did it again, but this time swirled his tongue around my clit. I let out a loud moan and my hips involuntarily thrust forward. He placed his hands on my hips to keep me in place. I looked down to see his eyes watching me as I panted heavily. He looked devilishly handsome, I reached down with my left hand to grasp his hair and let my right hand play with my nipple, pinching and pulling at it to increase my own pleasure.

 Closing my eyes, I felt his tongue attack my clit again and I moaned, suddenly I felt a long finger slowly enter me while his lips closed around my clit, and I screamed. “Yes! There! That feels so good!” I breathed out as his tongue moved across my inner lips.  His finger pumped me slowly while he sucked on my clit. The feeling was indescribable, “Don’t stop!” I let out, feeling the pressure in my stomach growing. The pleasure in my core was building quickly “Kakashi! I think…I think I’m”.

Kakashi removed his finger from me “cum for me baby” he said before thrusting his tongue into my wet opening, reaching as far as he could could and swirling it licking my insides. My back arched off the couch as I tried to hold on, focusing on the intense pleasure of Kakashi’s tongue inside me.

“Kakashi! I’m…I’m gonna” I felt the thread snap without warning when his tongue moved over a particularly sensitive spot. I screamed as a flood of pleasure wash over me and my walls squeezed against his tongue, he continued to lick at my sensitive opening, the aftershocks of my orgasm pulsing through me. “That was amazing,” I told him as he lifted his body to place it over mine and give me a kiss. I devoured his mouth while running my hands along his hard back, I could taste myself in his mouth and it turned me on even more. Realizing he still had his sweats on I pushed him away and told him to stand up.

I sat on the edge of the couch with him standing in front of me and slowly pulled his sweats and briefs down. His member stood tall and erect as the sweatpants fell to the floor. I grabbed the base of his cock in my small hands, it was hot and large and I could feel it pulsing. I brought my mouth to the tip, licking it with my tongue, tasting the precum escaping the tip, before slowly lowering my mouth onto his cock. It was hot in my mouth, and I closed my mouth around it running my tongue around the underside.

“Unnnnh…..[y/n]” he growled out, leaning forward over me to grip the back of the couch for support. I continued to bob my head up and down on him, increasing the pace as my lips sucked harder. My hand stroked the base of his cock and I continuously ran my tongue around his cock. 

“[Y/N], go slower” Kakashi asked, his eyes closed tightly and hands gripping the couch so hard it looked like he might rip it. I slowed my stroke as I took his cock out of my mouth and licked the entirety of it from the base. Taking just the tip in my mouth, I sucked on it hard, swallowing the consistently leaking pre cum.

“mmh, you taste good Kakashi” I looked back at him with the same playful smirk he had given me before. I took his whole member in my mouth all the way down my throat.

“unnnng!” he moaned throwing his head back in pleasure, bringing a hand down to gently rest on the back of my head. I resumed bobbing my head on his cock, focusing on his pleasure, his legs were shaking and the hand on the back of my head was gently grasping my hair. “[y/n], I won’t last much longer”. I went to resume bobbing, but I was suddenly pulled up against Kakashi’s chest as he easily switched positions.

He was now sitting on the couch as I straddled his lap, my core positioned just above his rock hard member. “I need to be inside you” he said as his hips lifted slightly, teasing my entrance with his member.

“I need you too, I whispered. I grasped his shoulder and felt his hands on my hips and I lowered myself onto him. I felt his penis stretch me as he entered, he was so large, but I was so wet that I felt it glide in with ease. I leaned my head against his shoulder when he was fully inside me.

“You feel amazing, babe.” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers straight to my core. He gently thrust his hips forward slightly and I moaned in ecstasy, I felt so full. His hands on my hips began guiding me as he lifted me up slightly before thrusting upwards as my hips came down.

“AAH, Kakashi” I moaned out his name.  The feeling in my core was building again. This time I lifted myself up and came down on him, I needed to go faster. Gripping his shoulders, I bounced hard, crashing my wet core onto him over and over again.

“That’s it baby” Kakashi whispered to me as I continued to bounce myself on top of him. He grabbed on of my breasts and proceeded to tweak the bud, adding to my already overstimulated body. Our breaths were becoming labored as he continuously thrust up into me. I screamed as he began hitting my G-spot

“OH, Kakashi, right there!” The pleasure was insurmountable, but I could feel myself getting weaker from the intensity. Kakashi’s hands resumed gripping my hips tightly as he bounced me on top of him, he threw his head back and increased his pace, I could tell he was almost there. I was too, I leaned down to kiss his exposed neck beneath his jaw and wrapped my arms around his neck to hold on. Our pace was erratic now, “Kakashi, I’m so close!”

“Come with me, babe” he said.

I held on as long as I could feeling his pace slow to hard forceful thrusts. I didn’t think I could hold on any longer as the pleasure bubbled to the top, He shifted only slightly, but it was enough as he hit my G-spot again, “Kakashi!!” I screamed as I came around him, my walls clenching tightly. I felt him push one more thrust before his warmth filled me, coating my insides. I slumped against him, my hands still around his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, with him still inside me. My core pulsed around him in aftershocks as we sat their panting, catching our breaths.

“[y/n], I love you….I didn’t mean what I said” Kakashi whispered, gripping me tightly to him, his head in the crook of my neck.

“I know” I said kissing his neck to convey that he was forgiven. Exhausted, we both curled up on the couch in the glow of our love making and whispered sweet nothings until falling asleep in each others’ arms.

The next morning after cleaning up the mess and ourselves, I was making breakfast in the kitchen for the both of us. “[Y/N], is this what you had been blushing about?” Kakashi asked coming into the kitchen. I turned around to see him holding the pair of lacy red lingerie I had got from Setsuna. His lone eye held a mischievous look in it. A blush instantly adorned my face and I covered it with my hands in embarrassment. Kakashi sauntered up to me, backing me against the kitchen counter, placing his arms on either side of me and whispered into my ear, “I can’t wait to take this off of you tonight.”

[perriewinklenerdie]

Follow my steps (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,8 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 12/13 added content. Claire gets fed up with the way Ethan’s been treating her lately. She gives him one last chance to make things right, at Boston Opera House - for old time’s sake.

Warnings: It’s angst time.

A/N: I don’t even know what’s going on lately. I wanted angst and here it is. My girl C really is running thin on her patience for her man’s bullshit (and so am I).

Are you okay? was the first message he received from her that day. He left shortly after he revealed his departure from the team, so her concern really should be no surprise. Still, he sighed deeply, silenced his phone and turned it screen side down, then went back to cooking, unsure what his answer would be.

Minutes dragged by, yet somehow turned into hours and before he knew it, the sun was racing towards the horizon. Almost completely consumed by it. He reached for his phone, planning on heading to his living room and rest his mind after he spent what felt like ages of grueling research into his options. His face twisted into a frown at the sight of his screen. Immediately after, blood drained from his face.

Ethan, please let me know you’re in one piece.

A simple ‘I’m fine’ would be enough. Seriously, I’m getting worried.

He battled with his brain, still uncertain what to tell her. She had enough on her plate with the team and the Boards, she didn’t need his problems to be added onto the already enormous pile. He replied with the only thing he could think of in that moment, resenting himself for letting her worry about him for so long.

I’m okay.

By the time he sat down on the couch and some ridiculous show was playing in the background – Claire was the one that introduced him to it, and he would never admit it, but he enjoyed their debates about it – a new message was waiting for him.

Oh, thank god.

Followed shortly after by a longer one, contents of which made him feel a pit opening in his stomach.

So, want to share with class why you went radio silent for the whole day, instead of, I don’t know, letting your girlfriend know that you’re not dead so she could worry a bit less?

He had no answer to that. How was he supposed to tell her that he was terrified of what was to come and that it could possibly be fatal for him? How was he supposed to say that he didn’t want her to be even associated with the case, because he cared about her too much to risk her getting affected by it too?

In the end, he didn’t reply. And she didn’t say anything else. An impasse, of his own doing, that he had no idea how to end. He knew he had to do something – she was a very patient woman, much more patient than him, but even she had her limits. And this? This wasn’t the first time he’s pushed her away in a similar manner.

Although he was aware of that, he still refused to call her. It was getting late, she was probably studying or getting ready for bed. She needed her rest, the next week was incredibly important for her future as a doctor.

That’s what he told himself for the next two days. Every time he felt a tingle in his hand to contact her, he reminded himself of her commitments and pushed the thought down. Despite that, every single time his phone made even the smallest sound, he threw himself towards it, hoping that it was her.

It wasn’t. Two days of no contact between them.

Realizing how long it’s been made him think of their conversation a few months back. They were sitting in the exact same place he currently occupied, close to each other. His hand holding hers with certainty.

They promised each other no more secrets. No more pushing each other away. And honest conversation. All of which were his ideas. He whispered all of them with deep sense of urgency, in a fever-like state that surprised her. She nodded her head eagerly, muttering words of affirmation, then let him pull her onto him, their lips meeting again and again in a soft reassurance.

He’s broken the rules he wanted them so much to have. And not even once. No wonder she didn’t try to get in touch with him – he’s given her every indication that he didn’t want to talk about it, and she pushed only until a certain point was reached.

“I can take a hint, you know.” She once joked, poking his ribs when they walked out of the patient’s room, their initial consult being far from ideal. He smiled sadly at the memory, his chest aching from her absence.

As though he called her with his thoughts, his phone announced an incoming message. He planned what he would say, what he would do once he saw her – and what he would not do in the future. He hated when they didn’t talk to each other, and he hated the thought of losing her even more.

Instead of her words, like he expected, the screen greeted him with a single picture she sent him. Two tickets, for an evening show at Boston Opera House. A clear invitation, an olive branch that she should not have been pushed to extend – she didn’t do anything wrong. He looked closer at the photo, zooming in on the time the show was supposed to start.

Two hours. He had two hours to get himself together. Two hours until he’d see her again.

Heart pounding, he jumped up from his seat and began preparations, dialing another phone number and giving clear instructions to the person on the receiving end of the call.

~

He doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was this nervous when stepping into the Opera building. And it was a different kind of nervous, a kind he never wanted to experience again. He was used to the anticipation that came with every date they ever had, the good kind of nervousness that stemmed from his inability to wait until he saw her. This, however, was torture in its purest form, and he admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he subjected himself to it on his own.

His hands were full. Full of flowers that the florist somehow managed to put together when he called frantically two hours ago – he left a hefty tip with a grateful nod. His fingers traced the stems of the white roses, shaking nervously. From time to time, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, restlessly, the uncertainty of what was to come making his breathing labored.

“Nice tux.” She called out, waiting patiently for him to face her. It didn’t take long – her voice made him turn around haphazardly, his eyes drinking in her face and then widening when he noticed the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, he couldn’t see anything else but the way the fabric hugged her in the classiest way.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed out, his brain short circuiting. Her lips curled in a subtle smile. She touched the pearl necklace he once gave her in wonder.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Ethan took a step towards her, extending the bouquet slightly with an uneasy look. Her eyes fell towards the flowers and, for a moment, he thought he could see her gaze softening. She took the roses from him, the scent reaching her in waves.

“Thank you.” she muttered without looking up at him. Despite her being just mere centimeters away from him, he could still feel the chasm between them – and he felt like the space was suffocating him.

“It’s not nearly enough.” He tried again. Claire hummed, not disagreeing with his words. She reached into her purse, taking two tickets out and handing him one of them. He accepted it gratefully, combing his mind for something that would start a conversation between them. The silence was killing him.

He looked closer at the ticket and noticed something was off. “You didn’t book our booth?”

The corners of her lips shot up slightly at ‘our’. “No, I got us seats in the booth on the other side. I needed…” she hesitated, avoiding his searching gaze. “A change of perspective.”

His mouth opened and closed. She rarely said anything without thinking it through, so the choice of words she used made him feel unease all over again. Claire finally looked up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t go bankrupt because of those.” She nodded towards the tickets in their hands. “I have more than enough money to spend on things I want.”

“That resident salary is treating you that well, huh?” he tried joking and it worked. She gave him a laugh, shaking her head.

“A resident that’s also on the Diagnostic Team. And you’re clearly forgetting what my family does for a living.”

“Did you just flex your family muscle on me?” Ethan grinned, taking another step towards her. She nodded, challenging him with her stare. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That’s your job tonight, babe.” Claire shot back, walking around him swiftly. He froze in place, turning towards her like a sunflower towards the sun – always following where she went. Her hips swayed from side to side alluringly as she walked, and he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she stopped to look over her shoulder, smirking at the look he was giving her. “Are you coming or not?”

~

The lights from the stage illuminated her face just enough for him to see her features. Since they sat down and the show has started, he’s spent a total of maybe five minutes watching what was happening on stage. Remaining time was occupied by her, on the forefront of his mind and right before his eyes. Her cheeks were reddened slightly – something he noticed when a particularly bright light shone on her face.

They’ve done it countless of times before. Dates. He never got used to nerves that accompanied them, and he hoped he never would. It was a part of the allure that made it all the more exciting. Claire’s always made him feel nervous, since the first day he’s met her. Three years later, he still felt the same spark that ran through him when he first touched her hand.

He turned to her again, unable to ignore the pang that hit him every time he saw her stopping herself from reaching for him. She may have been the one that organized their evening, giving him a chance to make things right between them, but it didn’t mean she was going to ignore what was obviously there.  

She’d never make him talk if he wasn’t ready to do so. Their relationship was built on mutual respect. They recognized when the other needed to talk and when they needed some time to gather their thoughts. Through the time they’ve known each other, they learned to find those cues and signs.

That’s how Claire knew that Ethan wasn’t really ready to tell her what exactly happened, hence why she stuck to texts instead of calls or visits. His lack of any contact, however, hurt her – more so when his previous behaviors similar to this were taken into consideration.

In light of this, her hesitation to initiate any sort of contact between them made perfect sense. All he had to do was let her know that he was okay, however relative it was to say in his current situation, and none of this would be happening. All he had to do was let her in, even if only a little – she’s never asked for anything more. And yet, he couldn’t even give her that, not immediately at least.

It became clear to him that he needed to let her know how much he trusts her. When she said she knew him. When she said she understood him – better than anyone, he added with a grin. When she said she’s falling for him. He trusted all of those words, but his actions didn’t support it. He could see it in her eyes when their gazes crossed earlier that evening. She thought he still sheltered himself from her, and him disappearing, again, was the proof that spoke the loudest.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. A soft brush of his finger against hers, testing the waters to see if she would flinch, if she would push him away or avoid him. When she did none of those things, he carefully covered her hand with his, only to, after a moment, lace their fingers together. Ethan gave her a squeeze, unable to bring himself to look away from the way their hands fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She squeezed his hand lightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Music swelled around them, tugging on their emotions until it was difficult to breathe. He noticed how her face twisted gently, revealing more of her feelings to him than he’s seen the entire evening. The characters on the stage have separated, each singing their hearts out about the feeling of loss – Claire couldn’t have known that, but the pain in their voices was enough to bring her to the edge of tears by the time the break in the show began.

Before Ethan could say anything, she excused herself breathlessly and walked out of the booth, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And he’s been alone with them for quite some time now.

He began reflecting on the first time he took her to see an opera. The similarity of the situation was striking – he suddenly knew why she suggested this out of every place they could go to. Her thoughtfulness really shouldn’t surprise him, yet he was always amazed with how well she knew what needed to be done. Oftentimes, she neglected her own needs to accommodate others, which left not much space for her in it all. That’s what became one of Ethan’s priorities early on in their relationship – make sure she remembered about herself.

She was taking care of him too, sometimes even unknowingly. Making him take breaks in the middle of the day. Bringing him coffee when he was stuck in meetings and couldn’t walk out of the room for even a second – the whole Board by now knew about their relationship from their first-hand observations, sending him meaningful looks when she left the room.

One thing that spoke more of her feelings for him than anything else was how she persistently stayed by his side through it all. His world was quite literally falling apart, and she was the one holding it in place. She told him that she knew how it felt to risk losing something you’ve worked for, how it felt to come so close to having everything slip away and that she was going to help him in any way she could.

Claire told him all of that when he broke the protocol – yet here they were again. If there was one person between the two of them that had a pattern of behavior, it was him – running away when things got too complicated. Or, as it stood right now, when he didn’t want her to get impacted by his problems. She’s told him that she wants to be impacted, that she wants to help him, because she cares about him. She’s by his side because she cares about him. And he told her he knew and understood her concern, but clearly, he didn’t register it enough, if he was in the exact same position right now. It’s as though he hasn’t learned a thing.

Perhaps she was getting tired of it. If he continued to act the way he’s been acting up until this point, she’d surely be pushed enough to leave him – and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that for himself.

It was the last time I let myself run, he thought to himself, cursing for even allowing it to get to this point. Where was his brain when he even considered it a viable option? In what universe would that behavior be okay? Her resolve and persistence became even more striking to him – he knew that he most likely didn’t deserve her.

She was still here, though, so he must have done something right. But one good deed wasn’t enough to make up for letting her down, time and time again. Ethan didn’t need her to tell him that what he was doing was unacceptable – he’s realized it on his own.

It’s never happening again.

Claire walked back into the booth, leaning against the wall to watch him. He was perfectly aware of what she could see in his posture. His nervousness in the way he played with the edge of his jacket. She’s been gone a moment too long and he was a second away from standing up from his seat to go after her.

Ethan turned around at the sound of her steps, refraining from saying anything until she was seated. His hand itched to reach for her, to feel her skin again. He got the permission to do just that, when their gazes finally crossed and she nodded gently. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he laced their fingers together, feeling the soft fabric of her dress under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, raising their joined hands to kiss her wrist. Claire guided the movement, pressing her palm to his cheek. The gesture ensured their eyes didn’t stray from one another and allowed them a moment of clarity.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” her words were laced with emotions so much, it felt like a mental blow to both of them. It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to. Nothing was more obvious to him.

“I am.”

She held his gaze, silent for a moment, then placed her second hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it again.” she whispered, a hint of a tear shining in her eyes. “We’ve talked about it before, Ethan. I’m tired of going in circles with you.”

“I know.” He brushed the tear away, bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t.” Claire agreed, nodding her head. She leaned away, lowering their hands and resting them in her lap. “You can tell me anything, in your own time. I’m the last person to judge, because I know that some things need that time. But I would never cut you out the way you just did, especially if I knew that you were worried.”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, finding no words to defend his dense behavior. He knew she was right – his behavior left a lot to be desired. Claire continued.

“It tells me that you don’t view me as your equal. You don’t trust me enough to confide in me. Every time something happens, it’s always the same story.” She sighed, falling deeper into her seat. Her hand was still in his, allowing him that form of contact. “I need transparency here, Ethan. We have rules, that you came up with, that you break every time things get tough.”

He winced at the vulnerable edge in her voice. More than ever before, he felt as though the ground was about to be pulled from beneath him.

“You can’t be in a relationship only a little. Or only on weekends. You’re either in it for good, and you take everything that comes with it, the easy and the difficult, or there’s nothing left to say.”

And there it was.

Ethan’s eyes widened. A hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making him feel lightheaded. If he ever had gotten a wake-up call before, this one was the loudest one. And the most devastating.

“Claire, wait.” He said, his voice strained when she tried to pull her hand out of his hold. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, her eyes glassy. Ethan breathed out heavily, pleading with his whole being for her to stay where she was. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair towards you.”

“That’s saying it mildly.”

“I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re my person. I trust you more than anyone else, even if I’m utterly useless at expressing it.” He gave her fingers a tender squeeze, his eyes finding hers urgently. “I’m an asshole for making you worry, and an even bigger one for keeping you in the dark. You deserve better, and lately, I’ve been messing up.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” She mused, tilting her head slightly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thumb traced her ring finger “It’s as though there is this outside force that’s making me do all those idiotic things, and before I realize what’s going on, everything’s already going to hell.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your impulse control.” Claire said, a tiny grin appearing on her face.

“You’re my impulse control.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the line of her cheekbone softly. She leaned in, just a fraction of a centimeter. Her gaze was a mix of feelings Ethan couldn’t describe – it made him feel a bit more at ease and at the edge of his seat, all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” He muttered, voice low and thick, overcame with emotions. Claire nodded her head, a sigh filling the space between them. Her eyes, even though they were growing softer just a moment ago, were now hardened and serious.

“Don’t ever do that to me, ever again.”

“Of course. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “If you don’t start treating me like your equal here, I will leave you. There’s only so much I can take, Ethan, and I draw the line at this.” Ethan’s entire body froze at a very real perspective of her walking away. The feeling of ground disappearing from beneath him came back, twice as strong. He shook his head, words rushing through his head. “And that would suck, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can’t lose you, Claire.”

“Then don’t lose me. Don’t push me away.” She breathed out, at last, squeezing his hand tightly. The atmosphere between them was heavy and it became difficult to breathe. Ethan knew they were not out of the woods, but he felt a bit less nervous when she cracked a smile. “Do I need to tie you down so you’d stop running?”

“You already did.” he mused, waiting for her permission, then leaning in to kissing her cheek softly.

They missed the second part of the show. He leaned close to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her by his side – she wrapped her hand around his forearm in return. Voice low and quiet, he finally began telling her everything, sparing nothing. Once the show ends, he’ll follow her lead – after all, he’s never gotten lost with her by his side.

Notes

Am I above dissing PB in a fic, of all places? Hell no, I’m not. 

Opera because C is clever like that - and we love throwbacks to better times. 

PB is making Ethan act like an angsty teen. And don’t get me started on the ‘prying’ bit. Ma’am, it’s not prying, it’s called caring about your husband boyfriend because something is clearly going on and it seems as though he’s covering someone else’s ass and taking a fall for it. It’s called *concern*.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[sundaymorninglife]

the morning after

corpse husband x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, drugs, alcohol, insinuation of sex. 

a note: thank you so much for your support on part one! uh, i haven’t written in years and coming back to tumblr has been a weird yet lovely ride. hope you enjoy this part two. 

part 1 - next

tag list is open!

y/n closed the door behind her quietly.

she looked around the hallway, trying to see if any of her friends were around, but all she could find were some girls drunkly talking, waiting to go into the bathroom. she knocked on the door twice, having agreed that that was the code for coast clear. without looking back, she made her way through the hallway and then the stairs, before going to the kitchen.

she sighed heavily, and made her best to check that her clothes and hair were OK and not too much of a giveaway of what had just happened. she looked at the array of drinks in front of her, and grabbed a bottle of tequila to pour.

as she was looking for shot glasses, rae and lily bursted into the kitchen.

“y/n, there you are!” lily shouted, even though they were alone. she sounded a lot drunker than when they had left y/n before.

rae laughed and took a hold of lily, balancing her, before looking at y/n. “yeah we’ve been looking for yo- oh my god what happened to your hair?”

y/n’s hands instinctively rose up to her hair, her eyes wide and paranoid. “i- oh god. is it that bad?”

rae burst out laughing, lily just looked at them confused, too drunk to understand the unspoken context. “oh god y/n! WHO and HOW and WHEN? we were only gone for like forty minutes!”

y/n finally found the shot glasses and poured herself a shot of tequila, which she quickly downed before serving herself another one. “please don’t judge me,” she said, before taking the shot she had just poured.

“please don’t tell me you fucked e/n,” rae retorted, still holding lily up by the shoulders.

“oh my god please tell me you slept with e/n, it would be the gossip of the week!” lily said, just excited to have any kind of drama to talk about. their group of friends was great, no doubt about it, but it needed some spice some days. nothing too serious, of course, but enough to provide entertainment, that’s all lily wanted.

y/n let out a snort. “no fucking way. he’s so sleazy! i can’t believe i ever dated that guy.”

“so...” rae wiggled her eyebrows at the girl, “who was it then? do we know them?”

y/n gulped. “it was.... it was no one okay. it was just a random dude.” she wasn’t technically lying, but it still felt weird to hide this from her two closest friends in LA. rae and lily gasped and looked at each other, but before they could say anything, y/n continued: “i know, i know, i swore off men and random hook ups, but...” y/n paused, thinking of corpse and about what had just gone on in the bathroom mere moments ago, “he was charming, what can i say?”

“oh my god, you have to point him out later on- was it good? it looks like it was good, you’re practically glowing!”

y/n blushed and put her face in her hands, looked at rae from in between her fingers. “yeah, it was great. anyway,” she got in between her two friends, “how about we go and we dance a little?”

***

corpse left the bathroom a few minutes after he heard the two knocks on the door. as he went into the hallway, he barely caught y/n going down the stairs. his mind was racing. that had just happened. he had followed her into the bathroom, hoping to not get caught by any of their friends, and in between the kissing, the unbuttoning, the desperate need for skin on skin contact, they established a few rules.

1. no feelings. this, whatever it may become, will remain strictly physical.

2. no one can know. if anyone finds out they might pressure them to get into a relationship, or worse, it might ruin the group’s dynamic.

3. no jealousy. they are allowed to see other people as long as they keep each other updated, for health and safety reasons.

it was fairly simple and straightforward. of course, rule number one had sort of already been broken on his part since he did have a crush on her but, he thought, it could be easily pushed away. not like he was in love with her.

as he walked down the hallway, ready to rejoin everyone downstairs, he felt a hand against his shoulder. he turned around to find jack, drunk of course, smiling at him. “corpse! my guy! where have you been for the past hour?”

“i... i was talking to that group of girls,” corpse said, pointing to the girls waiting outside the bathroom. “although i got a little freaked out when they offered me snow.”

jack laughed. “well, i won’t offer you snow, but let’s go get some shots. you look way too sober compared to me, my man.” corpse laughed and let himself follow the irishman, trying his best to not think about y/n and what they had just done.

***

as people woke up the next morning, the ever so familiar hangover headache started infecting most of the people who had gone to mark’s party.

lily and y/n had gone over to rae’s apartment to spend the night. the two friends insisted y/n point out who it was that she had slept with at the party, but the girl simply told them, very regretfully, that he had already left, probably to never be seen again.

lily was presently throwing up in rae’s toilet, having been the most drunk out of the three friends, while rae and y/n battled simultaneous headaches in the kitchen. as rae was making a much needed batch of coffee, and y/n was toasting some bread, lily dragged herself to the kitchen, tiredly proclaiming, “i am never drinking again.”

rae and y/n just laughed, both of them had been in the exact same situation, and they knew that lily would probably be drinking just as much the following week.

“so...” rae started, as she poured the now ready coffee into three mugs, “y/n. are we gonna get more deets on mr. bathroom?”

y/n groaned and let her head fall into her hands. “please don’t remind me that i did it in a bathroom, rae.”

rae snorted. “yeah, yeah, WHATEVER. you’re avoiding the question at hand, y/n. what was he like? where was he from? will you see him again? did he have a big d-“

“WOAH, woah, okay!” y/n interrupted rae before she could finish that last question. “he was nice. i didn’t ask where he was from. and no, i probably won’t see him again.” y/n looked down sheepishly at her mug, knowing that last answer was a straight up lie.

as a matter of fact, corpse had already texted her that morning to make sure that what had happened in the bathroom (and the rules they agreed upon) was OK. she appreciated the concern he had for her and the fact that he went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable. she replied to him saying that everything was good to go, and she honestly couldn’t wait to see him again. even rae, when she saw her in the kitchen, told her she was glowing.

“aw damn, that’s too bad! i wanted to meet this guy. hey, you still didn’t tell me how big his di-“

“oh my god guys please shut up, i’m dying over here.” lily interrupted rae this time, clearly too hungover to be interested in the subject at hand.

rae and y/n just laughed and started talking about other events that had transpired throughout the night, although y/n couldn’t keep her mind off of a certain curly haired guy.

***

corpse quietly made his way to the kitchen. him and jack had gotten home very late and very drunk, and he was already getting ready for toast to be kind of pissy at the whole affair. after all, he was kind enough to offer them his home while they were staying in LA.

corpse’s head was pounding, from the hangover or the anxiety of seeing y/n, he didn’t know. he had texted her to make sure that what happened the night before was OK, and to confirm that they were actually going to do this. he felt relief when she texted back that yeah, she wanted to seriously do this no strings attached sort of thing.

the curly haired man dragged his feet to the kitchen. he found toast there, already having breakfast, looking a little ticked off.

toast looked up at corpse from where he was seated. “you know, i love you and jack. but for the love of god, i’m never going to let you back into my apartment if it means you two getting home drunk as hell at four in the morning, screaming about how much you want chicken nuggets.”

corpse groaned and covered his face. he mumbled a quiet “i’m sorry,” before going to boil some water for tea. toast looked at his friend and decided the argument was sort of silly, and kindly laughed it off before saying, “it’s like you guys forgot mcdonald’s has delivery.”

once his tea was ready, corpse sat across from toast at the kitchen table. by then, sykkuno had also made his way into the room, and he said a quiet but sweet “good morning” to his two friends.

corpse was quietly drinking his tea when toast noticed it. “holy shit,” he started, “what is that on your neck?” it wasn’t long before toast was laughing incredibly hard. corpse immediately pulled out his phone and opened the camera, trying to get a look at his neck.

y/n had left him a hickey.

sykkuno made his way over to the table and peeked at corpse’s neck, before gasping and bring his hand to cover his mouth. “corpse, oh my god!” he said between laughs.

corpse felt his face grow red, before putting his hand on his neck to try and make the hickey disappear.

toast was still laughing when he asked, “who gave you that corpse?!”

“i... well it was-“

“can you all please stop laughing so fucking loud? my head fucking hurts.” corpse was thankful for jack’s interruption. he was quickly trying to come up with a cover up story for the hickey on his neck.

“corpse has a hickey!” sykkuno informed jack. the irishman’s eyes widened at the statement and immediately he went over to tear away corpse’s hand from his neck.

“so that’s what you were doing with the girls outside the bathroom, huh?” corpse sighed with relief. jack came up with the cover up on his own.

“uh, yeah. i hooked up with one of them in the bathroom. they offered me coke after and that’s when i found you, jack.”

“un-fucking-believable. i miss being 23 and being able to pull shit like that off.” jack sat down next to him at the table.

“pfft! as if you had half the game corpse has when you were in your 20s, jack,” toast said, trying to tease his friend a little.

“oh shut the fuck up toast! as if your game is any better than mine, huh?”

corpse just laughed, bringing his hand back up to cover his hickey.

“are you gonna see the girl again corpse? what was she like anyway?” sykkuno asked.

“uh, she was nice. i probably won’t see her again though, i’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

ah, but he would see her again. he actually couldn’t wait to get his hands on her once more, even if it meant more hickeys for his friends to find and make fun of.

taglist: @evi-ka @bi-andready-tocry @ramshasar  

[s0upisdelicious]

Heart of Thorns

This is the story of a princess learning to love again after her heart is broken. This can be read as a self insert of sorts, there is no name for the princess for that purpose.

0ver 6000 words, I ended up typing almost 17 pages in less than 24 hours, enjoy.

TW: Mentions of violence and mutilation. 

In a world long forgotten to us, in lands that are said to belong to the mystical and legendary there was a kingdom. It was ruled by a courageous and beloved king alongside his brilliant, beautiful wife. They had a daughter as well, a princess that was adored by the whole land. She was a kind, gentle soul that would roam the forests and walk along the streets of the villages. It was happier more carefree times. Above all else she had a love for flowers and would tend to the castle gardens every day.

  However, as much as she loved her plants and the deep alluring forests there was a loneliness that sat in her heart like a stone. She went from smiling to sorrowfulness, spending more and more time in the castle gardens and away from others. At a watchful distance, her parents grew worried. In the coming weeks the king and queen devised a plan, a ball that would surely help her find more friends and perhaps even someone that would cherish her forever. The princess was quiet intrigued and excited upon hearing her parents announce the event. She handled the invitations herself personally, placing a pressed flower in every one of the hundreds of envelopes. The head seamstress was up to her elbows in the most luxurious of fabrics to make the perfect dress for the princess. It had to be elegant, but one she could still dance in. Such a challenge she had never faced but on the day of the ball it was obvious she had gone above and beyond.

  Made of a light satin the dress seemed to float all around her as she gently twirled and danced to the music, her eyes catching the small glowing spores that floated all across the ceiling. Petals lazily fell from the thousands of flowers that made the ballroom look like an enchanted forest. She must have danced with everyone, lords and ladies, fauns and fae everyone. She made sure that no one was left without a dance partner until she stood alone on the outside of the ballroom watching the figures dancing gracefully across the polished floors.

  “My dear, why do you stand alone?” A voice spoke from behind her. The voice of a tall man, he came to her side with the fire catching his black robes and silky hair. He took a hold of her hand, placing upon it the most delicate of kisses from his soft lips. “Does her majesty not have a proper escort this fine evening? The night is still so young, you should be enjoying yourself.” She felt a flutter in her chest, averting her eyes.

  “Greetings my lord…I have no escort this evening, I thought I would have found a partner by now but I suppose I could have a chance later.” He sighed.

“They are fools, when such a lovely creature had already offered her hand.” She looked up at him, her face a soft pink. “I saw you dancing with your guests earlier, you are quite elegant in your step and if I may be so bold as to say your majesty.” He added with a whisper, “very beautiful as well.” He turned to stand before her and offer his arm with a bow. “I arrived late, and sadly hadn’t the chance to be properly presented to you but if I may.” There was a tremble in his voice, betraying his nerves. “Would you please honour me with the privilege of being your dance partner this evening?” She couldn’t help but smile. Taking his arm with a laugh.

  “You are good with words, and kind in your flattery.” She looked into his soft eyes. “You’re politeness is also most striking; I would certainly be honoured to dance with you as well.” He grinned, gently leading her to the dancefloor where they took their place among the guests and danced until the moon was high overhead. They danced long after the other guests had left, a single few candles offering their only light. Her parents watched, sleepily with lighter hearts. It was obvious that their dear little princess had found a companion.

He came to call many times after that, they would walk in the woods together and on more than one occasion he had to chase after her on a runaway kart in the marketplace or steady a particularly startled cow or donkey that took a fancy to attempt a stampede on her, but she was sure that he adored her, and she adored him. The weeks turned into months, and his visits came more frequently but that is when things began to go quite strangely.

  When they went riding and she accidentally spooked her horse he scolded her for getting mud on her dress, and when they ate he would question her table manners, and would grow impatient when she abandoned her studies to instead wander through the village. His touch became less full hearted, and his gaze felt distant as if he were somewhere far off instead of with her.

One autumn day, they were in the castle gardens. She sat under a tree weaving oak leaves and deep red blossoms into a rather silly adornment. With a laugh she approached her love, her eyes shining in the sun. “I crown thee, mine!” She announced with much feigned bravado before placing the crown on his head. He seemed to look straight through her, as he suddenly stood and gently placed the crown on a stone beside the tree.

“Your highness, I apologize but…I am afraid that we must part ways.” Her heart stilled and tears already began to well up in her eyes.

“I, I don’t understand.” He took up his cloak and readjusted his sword, his eyes still not quiet meeting hers.

“I am sorry, but this is goodbye.” He said nothing else, but walked towards the palace gates. She watched his back until he was far out of sight. The music of that night filled her head, the memory of his touch and his kisses imprinted on her skin. She rubbed her arms as wails escaped from her throat, and screams…inhuman sounding screams that she didn’t even know she was capable of. Her heart felt like it was being torn to pieces, pulled and tangled by thorns. She fell to her knees, her sobs made the flowers surrounding her wither and die, the leaves began to fall from the trees, the brambles crawling up and choking out all other life. Within her heart, brambles of their own emerged and wove themselves around her delicate broken heart.

  “Never again, never again…” She thought, over and over, never again would anyone do such a thing to her. Her mind repeated each moment they shared, how desperately she wanted him, how deeply she hated him. There couldn’t be anyone out there that found her acceptable could there? She couldn’t risk it again. So the thorns caged her heart and surrounded the palace. The guards searched the grounds and found their beloved princess unmoving, in deep sleep. She was pale and ghostly as a corpse but lived. The brambles that choked out her heart had stopped but alas, left her too weak to move. She was lain to rest in her chambers, under heavy guard and her parents sent for every doctor, healer, warlock, witch, and wiseman they could find. It was a faun, an elderly faun that specialized in herbs from the next village over that informed them of the true nature of the curse.

  “It is a painful curse, self inflicted, though never on purpose.” She sighed, “when the heart is deeply wounded it wants to protect itself and a delicate, precious creature like the princess would surely suffer greatly from such heartbreak.” The faun lifted a steaming bowl over the princess. The pleasing aroma waving over her like a silver thread. “This will keep her safe but I am afraid that the cure may be quite out of reach…for the heart needs convincing, that she is loved beyond all understanding.” She gave the king and queen a mournful gaze. “A love beyond even yours.”

  The kingdom wore only black, for all grieved. The sun didn’t feel as warm, colours lost their hue and eventually the brambles covered every inch of the palace. The king and queen had no choice but to leave the sleeping princess in the palace. They sent their messengers all across the lands, begging heroes everywhere as they grieved in lands far away.

  The stories spread fast, about the tragic princess of thorns and a village clad all in black. “A kiss, a kiss!” Men whispered over campfires and pints of beer, yes a kiss would free her of her curse. One kiss and that lucky man would get the castle, the kingdom?! Certainly, the favour of the princess had many perks attached. So it became the quest of many, waken the princess of thorns, save the kingdom, and earn the favour of the king and queen.

The brambles had grown around the palace as thick as trees, the thorns like mighty lances. Men from all across the land prepared themselves to face it’s challenges, and face it they did. Swords went blunt, lives were lost trying to reach the princess within. Those that made it through however were met with a greater challenge. The only chamber untouched by the overgrown brambles and decay in the whole castle, in the far North tower she lay there in slumber. They would kneel by her side, one by one to offer a kiss. Only for her eyes to remain closed. Some would simply leave in sadness but most fell to fits of rage. They would strike her face black and blue, even slit the tips of her fingers in attempts to wake her. She had been spat on, thrown to the floor and some did even worse, unforgiveable; disgusting things that I cannot bear to even utter.

  Those that saw the princess and lived spoke of her with great hatred, calling her prudish and impossible. Saying things such as; “When she was awake I’ll bet every man that approached her she turned her nose up at and sent away!” and other rumours of the like, of the most amiable nature. Her name became a curse among men, a name they would shout at women that denied them in hopes they too would have their hearts turn to ash as that is what they thought had happened to the princess. Others called her a witch that had been punished, that she deserved her suffering. More and more twisted the rumours grew, until no other man even dared to approach the castle.

These stories and rumours reached the ears of a young man, he worked in the fields and cleaned the bars in exchange for room and board. He would listen to the brutes that came to the tavern, he knew all the stories. One Autumn day, one year to the curse falling upon the poor princess there came a man. The last man that had tried to waken her had managed to escape but not before apparently leaving her in the very garden where she was said to have first fallen. “If that doesn’t break the curse perhaps the coming winter’s chill shall finally end her wickedness! A round! To celebrate the death of the witch of  brambles!” The young man gripped his mop, anger boiling within him.

  “You dare to accuse and condemn a woman that is unable to say a word in her defense?” He scoffed, whispering under his breath before stepping out. He walked outside to the stables where he slept in the hayloft. The wind was cold that night and all he could think about was that poor girl, that poor dear girl freezing in her garden. Before dawn he stood, and decided that he would pledge himself to protect her. He would face the bramble forest, “I will see for myself this supposed beast…and no one will ever touch her again.” On the back of a humble donkey, his clothes in tatters and not even a sword at his side he made the journey to the black village. Sleeping under the stars, he only hoped he wouldn’t be too late. In his dreams he heard a woman crying, a sound that made his heart ache terribly. He even began to hear it in his waking hours. Nothing would stop him, nothing. Nothing that is, except the faces of the villagers at the city gates.

  “We are sick of you wretched, sorry excuses for men running the name of our dear princess through the mud!” An old man cried, tears rolling down his face. “You don’t think we have heard the stories? The things that have been done to her up there! We’re setting a search party, we’re going to find her ourselves!” He leaped from his donkey, facing the torch light as another villager chimed in.

“We have waited, and placed all our hope in every man that came here!” She sobbed, “we used to celebrate you! We would celebrate the hope of our dear princess waking and making the flowers grow again, but what do we hear? That you monsters have mutilated her!” The young man stood still as she screamed to his face, he let them all scream to him and pour out their hearts. Some even threw rubbish at him and spat at him. He did not move a muscle, he let them scream until their voices grew hoarse. The same woman stood before him once more, shaking. “Why do you not speak?” He lowered his hat, revealing the pain in his eyes.

  “Your anger is just, and I feel your pain…”He began walking forward, “Please…” He lifted his hands and they saw for themselves. No weapons, not even an axe. “Let me go to her, I can help her and I promise…she will sleep peacefully and no one shall ever lay a hand on her again! Not under my watch.” He could feel the trembling in his voice but he did not care. “No one will ever hurt her again I swear to you!” He knelt to the ground, his hands still raised. “Please, only with your permission since she is your dear princess. Would you please take me to her?” The villagers looked to each other in amazement. Never had a young man asked permission, they had all come one by one with bravado and importance but here before them was a young man with nothing but dirty shoes and a donkey. The old man pulled him up to his feet, holding his hands firmly.

  “ We accept…you may my dear boy, you may.” They gave him sleep that night, for the first time in a long time in a proper bed. He was fitted with shovels and a small axe to face the brambles. In exchange he offered his donkey, then walked up the stone path to the edge of the bramble forest. The villagers joined him, and together they carved and attacked the brambles carefully. Forging a patch all the way to the castle gate. It was miraculous how easy it was; the thorns hardly needed any persuading. Almost as if they were allowing themselves to be taken down. Just as the sun was beginning to set there was a wide enough path for to people to walk comfortably through. “Young man? We understand you wish to do this on your own, but you will need a guide.” The old man stepped forward from the gate. “I am Hedine, I was the royal gardener.” He bowed his head, “I know the castle grounds better than anyone and I would give my life to help you find her.” He stood beside him. “And, your name my boy?” He asked.

“Aldan…” He muttered, “I am Aldan.” They walked in silence for awhile, but he had questions. “I only know what I have heard but I see more and more how deep these lies run.” Aldan looked to the old man, “what really happened to her?” Hedine sighed.

“She was in love, with a man named Lord Richan…he was feared by us all, but she was so deeply in love we couldn’t bring ourselves to say anything to her.” He lowered his gaze, “He spoke to her with sweetness but to us he was uncaring and insensitive.” Hedrine chuckled a little, “he wanted to be king, and for her to be the perfect token bride, but the princess is not a force to be reckoned with, she is a tameless sea, a burning fire, and yet is as gentle as a rose petal falling against your cheek.” He sighed, “he grew impatient with her so he elected to leave her side…the heartbreak caused her so much pain that this wretched curse overtook her…” Aldan could tell that the memories were painful, so he asked nothing else.

They came to castle gates as the sun began to set. The courtyard was a mess, It would take them hours to find her. Hedine looked around, his eyes sifting through the sight. “If we take to the left it will lead to her personal rose bushes…they were her favourite.” They stayed together, unsure what could be lurking around the grounds. Dry leaves were taken up in the wind as branches scratched at their ankles, the moon was starting to rise.

Then there she was.

Even so bruised and beaten as she was, Aldan had never seen anyone so fair. Her hair was matted and full of leaves, her skin so pale and cold he would have thought her dead if not for the soft rise of her chest as she breathed. Hedine was at her side holding her hand as he wept. “When she was a wee lass…I taught her how to weed flower beds, I showed her the healing properties of everything from petals to roots.” His shaky hands stroked her cheek. “Oh, dear precious one…” He stood, shaking. “Forgive me…I cannot bear to see her like this I…” Aldan held him by the shoulders.

  “You helped me find her, I can take it from here.” He leaned over her and gently lifted her into his arms. “I will tend to her immediately and you can bring visitors to her at noon tomorrow.” Hedine bowed his head, tears still rolling down his wrinkled face.

“Aldan…please take good care of her.” Aldan nodded.

“If any harm comes to her, do with me as you will.” Aldan immediately made for the castle, he went room to room, trying to find the perfect one. He found it on the second floor, it wasn’t the grandest of rooms and was obviously for guests, but smaller rooms were easy to keep warm, and there was another room connected to it by a door. Aldan lay her on a small couch by the window, pulling a dusty throw blanket to her chin.“You’re going to be alright your highness, I will be right back…oh, you’re so cold.” He immediately lit the fireplace, tending to it until the room was bathed in it’s gentle glow. He made his way to the workhouse, finding buckets and tools to start sweeping out the dust and dirt. With boiled water he washed everything down in the room as well as the separate bathroom until it was all perfectly clean. The bed hadn’t even been touched, still made. He hung the blankets outside to air them out and beat off the dust. He found salves to sooth the cuts on her skin, she was already covered in faded scars and scratches. “I pray I never meet the men who did this, but I do pray they meet their fate and that it will be tenfold of your suffering…” He muttered as he carried her to the bathroom.

  Sheets that were cooled by the Autumn air, a room warmed by a roaring fire. He found some night dresses that were still in wearable condition after carefully scrubbing her with old lavender soaps and oils he found carefully preserved. For hours he carefully pried at the tangles and knots in her hair, washing it thoroughly. He lay her on the soft bed and massaged ointments into her skin to help the rashes and newer scrapes. “I hope you are comfortable your highness, I don’t believe that you can eat but I sadly am bound to such human needs.” He added with a soft chuckle as he tucked her in. “I will open the window for awhile so you don’t overheat, I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

The fire light had died down, and the room was the perfect temperature. Aldan shut the windows and drew the curtain, relighting the fire. “I am going to bed your majesty; I will check on you again in the morning.” He pressed the back of his hand to her face, to his joy her skin was much warmer and if he wasn’t mistaking there was colour returning to her cheeks. “See? You’re going to be alright.” With a bow Aldan left, not seeing the dear princess take a deep breath in her sleep and stirring ever so slightly.

  The days passed similarly, Hedine being the only villager that was brave enough to look upon her would visit every few days. Only a week after Aldan had shown up he noticed that the castle halls were slowly being restored under Aldan's care. The floors were being polished, the brambles tamed. As for the princess, Hedine’s eyes shone with warm tears of joy. The dawn shone on her skin, her face peaceful and her cheeks rosy once again. Aldan had fashioned her a chair with wheels, and every afternoon he would lower her into the chair and bring her outside wrapped in blankets and cloaks he found in the castle when he worked outside. Hedine sat beside her, sitting on an old log as Aldan with a series of ropes washed the windows. With a smile he took hold of her hand. “I can’t wait for you to see it your majesty, the palace hasn’t looked better.” He spoke gently, describing the sky overhead, and how the trees looked. To his surprise her hand seemed to tighten around his own.

  The autumn gave way to winter, and Aldan had his work cut out for him maintaining the palace in the relentless chill that swept over them. The villagers had helped him fill the larders with enough preserves for himself, and he would roam the now harmless bramble forest to hunt for birds and squirrels. One evening after hunting he had managed to get himself a few plump pheasants and he was thinking of all the things that he could make when he came into the drawing room where the princess was sat at a chair by the fire resting. As he was looking upon the princess, he noticed her breaths were even and deep. He pondered a moment then ran to the kitchen, skinning the pheasants and using one to make a simple rich broth. To his delight, when he carefully brought it to her mouth she was able to get it down. “You’re doing so much better your highness!” He grinned, an uncontrollable joy in his voice as he held her hand.

Aldan would feed her broth and warm tea, wishing he could give her more. The winter clung for dear life however, and the battle was not over yet. There had been a terrible storm for three days, he couldn’t even leave the palace and he had resorted to keeping himself and the princess in the small room to preserve firewood until he could grab more. “When this storm is over I will visit the village, then they won’t have to worry and risk the trip.” He assured the princess as he placed more wood in their small cozy fireplace. He sat next to the fireplace all night, keeping the fire going as best as he could. He was dizzy with lack of sleep, his eyes begging to close with each movement he made. “Dawn will be approaching soon, I mustn’t relent.” Aldan groaned, his body betraying him as he lay across the hearth covered in soot. There was only one log left, he would have to start chopping up furniture at this rate. “I will keep you safe, I…” He closed his eyes. “I will save you.”

  He woke in the dull grey of dawn, aching from the chill that had befallen the room. The sun was starting to pour in and from the window he could see the snow glittered like diamonds. “Oh dear, oh your highness forgive me!” He turned to the bed “I overslept!” Stumbling as he went to throw open the thick curtains surrounding it. Seeing her however, relief swept over him.  The hot pot he had placed under the covers and the curtain had left her bed still fairly cozy. She wasn’t cold to the touch. “Oh, thank goodness. I am sure your majesty will be happy to know that the storm has cleared, and it is beautiful outside! It looks like fairies were dancing across her highnesses courtyard.” He didn’t even realize that his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of her hand as he stared outside. “I hope you get to see it, but I am sure you would prefer to see the spring.” He kept on, “Hedine and I took care of your garden as best we could, but it will certainly need your touch.” He grinned, turning to look at her face once more. “I am told your skills with plants are legendary, and I would be honoured to see your magic at work.” He helped her into a clean dress then sat her up once more in a chair by the fire. With his axe he split a chair from a drawing room no one would surely miss and made a pile by the fireplace. “I will build a fire that should last an hour or so, I am going to start making a path to the village, I will be later I promise dear one.” He froze, he had never called her such a thing. His chest tightened as his cheeks burned. “I…beg your pardon your majesty, though with all do respect…you are indeed dearly precious.” He kept stumbling over his words. “Forgive me, I take my leave.”

  The door shut behind him with a quiet clank, and in her chair small tears rolled down her soft cheeks. It was true, she was not their idea if awake but in all of this she was aware. She could hear voices, she could feel, and with each passing man that she had faced the thorns in her heart had grown ever deeper. She still recalled that day, she had been left on the floor of her chamber when another set of steps had left her with great dread. Fear gripped her as she heard the most putrid voice over her. “A curse.” He had called her, he didn’t waste his time with a kiss, he grabbed her by the hair, and she felt the pain of every root and stone as she was dragged across the floor. The cold air sinking in as he took her outside and left her for dead in the gardens she had once loved. That was to be her end, was she so worthless as this? Numbness covering every part of her, the pain in her heart, it was too much to bear. “Kill me, just let the next man kill me…if I am such a wretched thing let him kill me and be done with it all.” That was her last coherent thought as darkness took her.

The next thing she knew, there was a voice so gentle it scared her more than even the harshest of screams that had been spat upon her. A familiar hand holding hers, and warmth filling her. The more Aldan spoke to her, the more he did, the more she could hear and feel. The more she longed for him to stay by her side, such things she had long forgotten. Slowly, after Aldan had closed the door the first of the brambles began to fade and all she could think was; “why? Why do you do this? Why all this for me?...”As winter was drawing to a close, he noticed that she moved more in her sleep. Sometimes he even heard her whisper. Too faint to hear, but Hedine was optimistic and slowly more villagers began to return, staff members taking up positions to help Aldan. They could see the improvement in the princess, her old handmaiden weeping tears of joy that she looked better than even before Lord Richan had come to take her heart away in the first place.

Spring came sleepily, and Aldan was much busier these days. Helping the few staff members with repairs around the palace, and finally tackling the last of the brambles that blocked the windows of where his fair maiden slept. At night when all was quiet he would sing to her, and whisper stories to her, all day he wouldn’t get to see her, and he could not describe the longing he had in his heart. He supposed when one cares for someone for so long, they become more attached. He didn’t think much of it, but the servants would whisper excitedly, and give him knowing stares, as if they all knew some secret that they wouldn’t tell him. “No matter, perhaps they think that you will wake, and the king and queen shall return…” He furrowed his brow, why did the thought suddenly scare him. “But that would be a good thing!” He told himself, rubbing his forehead. “I…can’t keep you like this to myself, that would be so selfish! So many long to see you, oh please wake up…before I become too scared to lose you forever.” He hated how shaky his voice was, his hands holding one of hers. “But I don’t want to lose you…why can’t I stay by your side dear one?” Tears rolled down his face. “I can’t leave, only for another heartless lord or prince to hurt you all over again…” He pulled up her blankets and stood back. He turned his eyes away from her face that had only grown fairer to him. How he wanted to stay by her side forever but no, it was not meant to be. “I…I think you are well enough; and the staff will take on my work…I…I’m not a hero, I am not the knights with their dazzling armour or a rich king.” He rested his head in his hands. “I shovel animal dung and mop up after drunkards…what good am I to you?” He felt an ache in his own heart. “That is decided then…I shall take my leave, oh my dear precious one, my love…forgive me.” He squeezed her hand once more, “if I am to leave, permit me this…that I may never forget you.” Aldan leaned forward and placed a small, sweet kiss on her cheek. Lingering  as long as he could. This only made him sob, how he longed to hold her. He would do so to the end of his days if he could. “I would face fire and sword; I would have cut down any hand that dared to touch you…” He finally tore himself from her side and ran to his room before his cries made his shoulders quiver.

The flowers were finally in bloom, and it was warm enough that Aldan would leave her sitting in her garden with Hedine every day. He noticed that Aldan was becoming distant with the princess, almost avoiding her. “My dear boy, what ever is the matter?” He asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder as he turned to leave after bringing the princess to Hedine for the day.

Aldan looked at the old man, a deep sorrow in his eyes. “I have chosen a cruel fate my friend…I came here to protect her, to not let any unworthy man touch her but alas I am myself unworthy…and in exchange for healing her heart.” He laughed, tears once more welling in his eyes, “she has taken mine.” He sat in the grass, holding his face. “I love her Hedine! I would walk off the edge of this world if it would wake her, I would give her my life, everything if I could be hers and she could be mine…” He took a deep breath. “But I am not anyone of consequence, as soon as she wakes I am sure that she will not want me, the king and queen will want her married off to someone worthy of her status…” Hedine spluttered like an old kettle, throwing down his cane and giving in to a rage.

“You are as stupid as your donkey!” He snapped, “you are the worthiest man I have ever laid eyes upon! I am sure the king and queen would take one look at the man that has restored their daughter, their home, the hopes of the people all with his own two hands and would declare you mightier than even the kings of old!” He shouted. Aldan looked up at Hedine with disbelief.

“I…am sorry, Hedine.” He murmured. 

“Apologize to yourself and to her you simpering fool!” He waved a fist at him then knelt in front of him with a hand on his shoulder. “If you leave her now, because of your own stubbornness and insecurity I will drag you back here kicking and screaming!” He winked. “That is no threat, that is a promise.” Aldan through his tears began to laugh, it was a strong and warm laugh. In her chair, the smallest smile appeared on her lips.

She could hear his voice even clearer these days, like a vivid dream and oh how she longed to see his face. She wondered how his arms would feel around her. She longed to thank him, to shower him in praise.

However, her slow recovery could not be kept secret forever.

It was mid May, and the servants were preparing a party in the courtyard to celebrate the full restoration of the castle. Her majesty of course, was given a seat of high honour and privacy. Her hand maidens had her dressed in one of her finest gowns that they could find, her hair had fresh flowers woven in like a crown and Aldan could not keep his eyes off her the whole night. Under the moon the servants and townsfolk danced, singing together as Adlan sat in silence with the princess. He held her hand, looking out at the celebration. “I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined this.” He lifted her hand to his lips, ready to place a kiss on it when a cold voice made everyone stand still.

  “I seem to recall this charming scenario…” Aldan stood, gripping the handle of a sword Hedine had given him. He grit his teeth, looking upon a figure dressed all in black, the moon making him glisten in perfection. “Ah, so you are the caretaker that has been guarding my future bride…” Lord Richan, he took a step out from under the tree line and revealed himself in the firelight of the lanterns. “You have done well, and I am sure you will share in the reward.” He lifted a hand towards the princess only to feel cold steel rest on his throat. 

“Don’t you dare touch her, leave this place and never return before I cut your venoumous hand from your arm!” Aldan hissed; his kind face twisted with anger. Richan sighed, straightening himself to stare at him. Aldan hated how his blood ran cold like ice under Richan's gaze.

“You’re brave I will give you that boy.” He lifted his own sword, “but I am the one she loves, don't you see? She hasn't woken because she longs for me!" He smiled, and in one fell swoop Aldan’s sword was knocked from his hand and Richan stood over him. “I was willing to share in the plunder, for restoring her majesty for me, but come to think of it, a commoner such as yourself?” He grinned, punching Aldan across the jaw before kicking him to the ground, his eyes almost glowing red. “You shall be killed for daring to touch royalty!” 

Aldan spat at Richan’s feet, not daring to break eye contact. “I will see you in hell, you deserve nothing else!” He declared, “my love will transcend my suffering, and in death I will sing only her name on my lips!” Richan lifted his blade, hollering to the skies above bringing it down. 

“NO!” A voice he didn’t recognize cried out and Aldan was suddenly wrapped in someone’s arms. All he heard was the sound of tearing fabric and a woman crying. Tears fell onto his neck, and when he looked over the figure’s shoulder Richan looked as if he were staring at a ghost. Aldan was dumbfounded but froze as the familiar scent of lavender filled his nose. The figure turned, standing to face Richan. “You…YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” He was taken aback, suddenly raising his hand to his lips as tears filled his eyes. Before him, her dress now torn from Richan dropping his blade, a fire in her eyes that he never could have dreamed, with a voice as sweet as song and powerful as waves. The princess, his princess was awake. “You dare to show your face here?” Richan was left speechless, a sadness in his eyes. “Where were you when I was thrown to wolves and slashed to ribbons? Where were you when I wept in this place and begged for you? Longing for you!? YOU disgust me!” She cried, “leave and pray I never see your face again!” Lord Richan stood still a moment, he desperately wanted to speak. “Not a word.” She hissed, “GO!” He stiffly bowed, retrieved his sword, then disappeared with two of the royal guard down the path and away from them all. 

“Your majesty?” Aldan called, slowly standing. There was no hiding the fear and longing in his eyes as she turned to face him. He began to approach her; her beauty was blinding. He could not even dare to blink, not wanting to lose her view from his sight for another moment. She too walked towards him. Her heart racing, and yearning to finally know his touch. They were inches away from each other, his hands shakily lifting to her face. “You…you saved me my dear…” She couldn’t stop her own tears as she held his hand. All those late nights, his tender voice, and constant care. He was beautiful, and beyond perfection. A small laugh escaped her. 

“Oh my dear Aldan…it was you who saved me.” His breath hitched in his throat; she knew his name? She knew…him? “I have wanted to see you, for so long…I could hardly bear it.” Her tears fell away to sobs as she tightly pulled him into a hug. “I love you…I love you so much.” He pulled her close to him, holding back his own tears as the townsfolk burst with rejoicing. In his ear her voice made him shudder as he held her. 

“I love you too my darling, and I will love you until the ends of the earth.”

[mymedlife]

Guys, the pandemic has broken me. Every time we seem to be making any progress I feel like we get set back again.

Sorry for the long rant ahead, but I feel like I need to get it out of my head.

Back in the beginning, last March or so, when the state I'm living in shut down, I felt like I could do it. Daycare shut down for almost 3 months to prevent spread.

My husband's job changed his hours to 10a to 8p since everyone was working remotely so they could all be working on the same time zone.

My cofellows were generous enough to switch shifts so I could work all nights and weekends and watch my kiddo during the day. Which kind of sucked, because she doesn't play independently for very long, o was tired, hubby wanted it quiet, and everything was closed so there wasn't anywhere to go to break up the monotony.

Work was filled with frequent changes around what protective equipment we have and what is required to be worn where. I got fitted for 3 different N95s because we kept running out, despite having to check them out and have them sterilized between uses.

I had frequent discussions about how COVID is real with families who refused testing. Parents lied about their symptoms to be allowed into the hospital with their kids, including one who collapsed mid visit due to respiratory failure. Several people ended up having to quarantine because they weren't wearing their N95s during the resuscitation as it was unexpected (at the time we were only wearing N95s during aerosolizing procedures including bagging). This lead to a new rule on not stopping in to help until you have the proper equipment on (which makes sense, but but is so hard).

Early on I spent some time volunteering for the COVID hotline for my state. Most of the questions I got were people upset that things were closing. There were very few health calls.

My aunt died. My sister, a psychologist, argued with her boss she should get a raise for being a frontline worker. My other sister, who is immunocompromised, was mad that all her friends continued to party guilt free and we kept telling her to stay home. My husband began to enjoy his new schedule to the point that he would stay up until 3am playing games after work (the kid was asleep and I was working) and sleep until he had to work at 10 am. My friends talked about their new lock down hobbies, including my co fellow who spent her time creating a new lecture series for the residents. I felt like I was trending water, I started getting behind on fellowship things and I was so tired. My kiddo was happy that I was spending more time with her, and it all was temporary, right?

Eventually things started opening up again. Daycare returned. Two days later my husband was fired. Thankfully he found a job within a few months, but during that time was quick to anger and his staying up all night playing games and sleeping most of the day got worse. He dismissed anything I had to say about it and frequently promised to sleep earlier, later saying he had to stay up because the kid had a nightmare that I slept through.

During this time, many of my pediatrician friends were called to see adults due to high patient volumes and doctor shortages. Luckily I only had to see kids, but there was still a lot of mystery surrounding symptoms and the discovery of the multi system inflammatory syndrome.

My kiddo got sent home a few times from daycare for vague symptoms that necessitated a COVID test, and at one point she was at home with me for 2 weeks due to a COVID positive exposure in class. My husband's job was new so he couldn't take off time to help. At some point things shifted so I was now doing all the daycare pickup and drop-off as well as all the bedtimes (unless I was physically at work).

Following Breonna Taylor and George Floyd there were large scale protests around the downtown area, where my hospital is located. I wholeheartedly support the movement, but someone told my kid it was dangerous to go downtown, and she became fearful of me going to work. This combined with the break in at our home lead to sleep refusal. Something I had to help he with, leading to bedtime taking hours, because my husband would yell at her. Most nights I was too tired after getting her to bed to do much, which lead to more work piling up.

Job hunting was not as fun as I had hoped it would had been. I had one in person interview, everything else was virtual. Thinking about working at a place I've never seen was terrifying.

Many places simply ghosted me. Lots weren't hiring. A few went on a hiring freeze after my interview.

Every interview asked what hobby I developed during lockdown. I admittedly could have answered this question better, and explained that I survived the lockdown with a toddler and that was an accomplishment.

My home institution decided to go with my co fellow over me. When I asked my mentor why she said they felt she had more to contribute to medical education than I do. I'm convinced that in part this has to do with all the lectures she wrote during lockdown.

I was able to get a job, but it's at a smaller community ED where we have a few beds in an adult ED. I mentioned to my associated program director I was a little disappointed, and suddenly everyone is telling me to be thankful for what I have.

I can be thankful and disappointed at the same time.

I think the biggest thing is a fear that if I hate this job I wont ever be able to find another one.

I also kind of resent my kid and husband, if I had more support or time to focus on fellowship things may have been different.

But life goes on. The vaccine was created, things opened up, and now those who aren't vaccinated can stop masking.

The my body my choice people who previously refused to mask are pleased, and now there are barely any masks when I go out (despite a not great vaccination rate in my area).

My kid is 3 and cant get the vaccine, so we still wear them. She loves to whine about how the others don't wear their masks. "It's not fair."

No, it really isn't.

Masks are still required in the hospital, which parents complain about daily. Recently every time I recommend a COVID test it has been refused. The pandemic is over. Kids can't get COVID. And other nonsense.

Kids as young as 12 can get vaccinated. However there is real concern about post vaccine myocarditis. Now everyone who comes in with chest pain wants to complain, even if they are unvaccinated.

Things have been stressful, and my kid is picking up on that. She still has trouble sleeping and has started having tantrums. We recently had a meeting with daycare and they want us to have seen by psych to get her evaluated.

I've found that I've lost interest in most of my hobbies, not that I have a lot of time for them. Fellowship finished and I have the next two weeks off before starting my new job. I was planning on spending it sleeping, cleaning the house, getting out the baby stuff as we are expecting a new little one in a couple of months, and rediscovering my hobbies.

Today I had an awful migraine. I cant take the meds I usually take because of the pregnancy, and my OB wont prescribe anything because he is worried about masking signs of preeclampsia. My husband refused to get up to watch the kid because he was tired, so I pushed through until he was ready to get up.

I lay down to try to get a nap and I get a call that there has been a case of COVID at daycare, and they will be closing for 2 weeks. They will open up the day I start my new job.

And this my friends is what has broken me.

I was so looking forward to finally have time for self care, and now I get to play stay at home mom again with my kid who is in isolation.

After that call I got up and left the house. I'm sitting in my car at the park writing this, and while I know I will go back home eventually, I'm tempted to drive off and let my husband deal with this for a change.

[amphxtrite]

fred weasley x fem!reader

This is for @feetoffthetable ‘s 500 follower writing challenge. Congratulations again on 500!!

hope you like it.

prompts:

“What happened to their happily ever after?”

“Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.”

warnings: angst, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

word count: 3.1k

tag list: @cupidpoison @marvelhoesworld @wonderful-writer

enjoy<3

__________________________________________

Almost every girl can remember the days where they’d dream of their fairytale romance. Dancing, a prince charming and a kiss in the moonlight as every problem faded away; A thrilling fight between the lovers and the evil villain ending with the two wrapped in each other’s arms. Despite being muggle tales, the wizarding world had also grown to adore these stories, smiles widening on even grown witches' faces with each ‘once upon a time.’

You’d grown up reading about maidens being swept off their feet into the arms of their knight in shining armor, fate seemed to encompass every story you laid your eyes on, so when Fred Weasley entered your life, with a charming smile and a playfulness that had you wanting more, you couldn’t help but fall.

And so began the pining. Stares across the classroom at the wave of red hair, crossing your fingers when group projects were announced, peeking down corridors to see if you could catch the prankster twins in action, and daydreaming from dawn till dusk. You could barely get words past your lips if he ever smiled in your direction. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to run your hand through his hair. Doodling his name on parchment became common, and dreams of dancing with him plagued your mind. You were young, and in love. You could almost feel your fairy godmother pushing you towards him, fairy tale magic coursing through your veins whenever your eyes would meet.

It took a couple years, but you found your voice. Starting small with congratulations after quidditch games, an occasional joke during classes, a couple more smiles here and there.

The unrequited love, became returned. Fred Weasley thought you were just the shy girl from his transfiguration class, quiet and meek. When you built up the confidence to strike up conversations and joke about Snape’s hair, he found himself hanging onto your every word.

The older twin went from not knowing your name to looking forward to even his most boring classes just to catch a glimpse of your face. Making you smile became his mission, and Godric did he love it when your face would completely light up. Not just a small smirk, but when your eyes sparkle, your lips pull up far enough to see your teeth and your cheeks go a bit pink, that was most definitely his favourite sight.

Even the most enchanting storybook couples would stare amazed at the adoration Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n shared for each other. Two best friends pining for the other without realizing the mutual warmth that had grown. Spending countless hours together, hiding their flushed cheeks, sweaty palms and loving eyes to enjoy every moment spent together.

When the Yule ball was announced Fred had fallen flat on his face running up to ask you. He’d spotted you in the clock tower courtyard with one of your friends and he knew immediately, you were the only person he’d want to go with. He sprinted up to you intending to drop to his knee and ask, but his foot got caught in the stone and he fell for you the second time. Now any other person may have lost hope and ran away, but Fred Weasley was determined to make the most of it, rebounding it with a cheesy pick up line, In true Fred fashion.

Cinderella would’ve glared in jealousy when the two of you waltzed across the dance floor. Not only was the night magical, but it was awkward, nervous, and fun. It didn’t seem like the far fetched dance at the end of a film, it felt real. You’d step on his toes and he’d shuffle his hand around your waist, but when it came down to it, you didn’t care. You really did feel like a princess dancing in the arms of her lover, swaying to the beautiful music as other students starred in awe at the two gryffindors gliding around the room, laughing happily while moving their feet in a mesmerizing waltz.

That night Fred Weasley finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he got down on his knee in the middle of the dance floor, pouring his heart out to you, his confession wiping even the soliloquies of Romeo Montague out of the water.

“Y/n, from the moment you started to talk to me in our third year, I fell. You make me smile, laugh, blush and always know how to cheer me up. Honestly, why didn’t you start talking to me sooner? I never knew how much I needed you, but my eyes have been cleared, my feelings in tune and now I’m asking you on the dance floor to maybe take this foolish man to be your prince?”

Droplets emerged from your eyes as you shook your head up and down, happy tears flowing free as you pulled the red-head up again.

The entire student body had paused to take in the scene before them, watching in surprise as Fred Weasley stood to his feet to dip the girl with tear stained cheeks into a low kiss, only standing again to catch his breath before stealing you away out the door.

You’d give anything to go back to that night. The seed of young adoration finally blossoming into a flower of love. Love so true, beautiful and pure you’d probably blind anyone who saw. You ran through the halls to Black Lake, dancing to the beats of your hearts in the embrace of your love, swaying in the moonlight as puzzle pieces of your life finally seemed to fall into place and stars aligned.

Holding your love in your arms is a feeling so surreal and fantastic, something that has an addicting property that you couldn’t help but crave. When Fred’s arms surrounded you, you didn’t feel trapped, enclosed, barricaded. You felt free, as though you could fly.

It is hard to define love, but what was between the redhead prankster and gryffindor dreamer painted a clear picture for anyone to see. Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred grew more in love with you with each passing day and his desire to see the smile upon your face never faded.

Your love for your prince charming was something that would never be taken away from you. Everyday took your breath away and every time Fred smiled at you, your brain seemed to turn to mush, the childhood pining never seemed to leave.

Your last year at Hogwarts brought about some problems, with the monstrous pink toad and Fred’s tendencies for trouble, you could say difficulties were inevitable. Nights where Fred snuck into your dorm broken down, tired, and ready to collapse became frequent, especially after he was banned from the quidditch team. Fred was hesitant to reveal his sensitivity, but with cuts across his hands and the loss of his favourite activity, he was willing to lose it all just to rest in your arms again. Many nights he’d run to you, exhausted and restless. You’d hold him close, soothe him the best you could and heal his wounds to the best of your abilities. You didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t need to talk. Fred was content laying on your chest as you fussed over him, pressing kisses across his freckled face and mumbling rather choice words under your breath about the pink devil as you gently caressed his injured hand as light as a butterfly.

You were the first person he’d told his scheme to leave Hogwarts to, begging you to go with him and start a new life in a place he’d dreamt of since he was a child. He honestly wasn’t expecting you to agree, but how could you not? It’s not like you had much planned. Anyways, you were tired of the pain Fred had to endure during the past year, so if he was ready to leave, so were you.

You’d compare flying a broom into the sky as fireworks flashed behind you, to riding into the sunset on the back of a stallion, but yours was so much cooler. Fred had grabbed you from the floor and pulled you onto his broom, you clutched onto him for dear life as he and George flew their last victory lap and destroyed every last horrid plaque of rules that hung on the walls of the school of magic. Another feeling of freedom was evident throughout the entire building as victorious cheers sound from every window.

This was definitely better than a ride into the sunset.

Life with the twins in Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes couldn’t be defined by just one word. It was exciting, chaotic and the most fun you’ve had in your life. Designing product boxes and using charms was more of your strong suit while the boys caused explosion after explosion, perfecting their concoctions. As weeks turned into months, you and Fred felt as though you were really living a couple’s life. Waking up wrapped in each other’s arm without the worry of being caught, making and eating breakfast to tunes on the radio, dancing to a record player as day bled into night and your feet finally got sore.

This is how fairy tale characters must feel after their story ends, you’d think every day, happy and so deeply in love, relishing every moment together and at peace.

You’d finally been introduced to Mrs. Weasley that coming Christmas, her tender love really made you feel welcome and almost moved you to tears.

“It’s nice to see Freddie finally found someone who loves him as much as you do, I can see it in your eyes darling, you’re perfect for him.”

Fred never understood why they said ‘fall’ in love, sure you may feel your senses fade at times but it was never like a fall. If it made sense he’d say he rose into love for you. You brought him to cloud nine, you raised his spirits whenever you joked with him when he was down. You raised the corners of his lips into a smile by just existing. You raised him further towards his dreams and supported him no matter what. Ironically, he dropped to his knee to propose to you, just like he had in your sixth year at the Yule Ball, once again pouring his heart out to you, this time to truly make you his.

“Here we are again, love.” He laughed as he fell to his knee behind you in a muggle park not too far from Diagon Alley.

“Darling, I love you. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You push me towards my dreams, comfort me when I’m upset, and make me smile every single day. I realized how much I needed you back in our sixth year, but today I ask you to seal the deal and become, y/n Weasley?”

It is hard to define love, so many forms of it, so many ways to express it and spread it to the people around you, but when Fred Weasley proposed to you, people looked over and felt the unconditional love between two people that brought tears to their eyes. When Fred Weasley looked at you, you were his everything. His past, present and future, his calm during a storm, his brightest star.

When Y/n said yes, you could hear the love of the purest of heart. The love of a best friend and a partner.

Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred could now ensure a smile on your face for the rest of your days, and the childhood pining could finally rest knowing you would be with this man forever.

When the war finally pulled the wizarding world into the dark, the prankster and the dreamer knew they wouldn’t be able to stand to the side. They needed to help bring back the peace, and they would fight beside the people they cared about. The wedding was postponed until further notice, but it was sworn on a pinky promise that as soon as the chaos was over, you’d pick up where you left off and walk down the aisle in your white dress.

As you stood on the Hogwarts school ground, death eaters on every side and Voldemort cackling maniacally, you reached out for your prince’s hand. Closing your eyes to regain your calm before you had to charge into the incoming fight. Fred had squeezed your hand before pressing his lips to yours in the most passionate kiss the two of you had ever shared.

Looking back, you should’ve held Fred there with you, by your side throughout the entire fight. You should have kept your hands interlocked, standing tall by each other’s side, an unbreakable force to be reckoned with.

Instead the two of you charged forward separated, fighting close, but by your friends’ sides, throwing spell after spell to inch closer to a brighter future. Pain didn’t matter, each wave of your wand could be a step closer to a happy tomorrow.

It was almost thrilling fighting by your classmate, protecting them brought a new sense of purpose to your being and drowned out everything else to focus on the task at hand. Things were turning your way, Neville slayed that dreaded snake, Harry returned, Voldemort would never win now right? Everything would turn out fine. Right?

How wrong you were.

Victory was within reach, death eaters were filtering into smaller numbers and your friends were still alive. Your head was swivelling for your love, the only thought on your mind being to find your prince, your knight, the love of your life. The flash of red hair was just ahead, the light at the end of the tunnel was right there. You called out his name and his head whipped to meet yours. Your eyes met and you could see your future, your wedding, a family, growing old with this man.

Then the rubble fell, and in a flash, everything was taken away from you.

It is hard to define love, but when witches and wizards heard the shrill cry of a heart being torn in half, they could feel the love y/n l/n held for Fred Weasley. The pure, unconditional love that would’ve withstanded the test of time and any problem life could throw her way. The love that had so much hope many people turned away, it was too much to bear. The love that had you digging even though your hands were scabbed and bleeding.

Now when you ask how Fred Weasley showed his love in this scenario, the only thing to say was he died with a smile on his face. He died knowing his last sight was the love of his life running towards him, ready to turn to the next chapter of their lives.

You dug through the rock frantically, grasping onto the hope that for some divine reason Fred could be alive.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to end, your prince was supposed to wrap you into your arms and every problem was supposed to melt away, you were supposed to marry, kiss in front of all your family and friends and live the rest of your days together.

Realization hit you like a speeding train, you were never going to walk down the aisle to see Fred’s reaction to you in a white dress, you were never going to hold your child in your arms and see Fred become the amazing father you knew he would become. You were never going to see him grey and old, still a prankster and still deeply in love. You were never going to feel his lips against yours ever again. Hear his whispers in your ear about how much he loved you, or his melodic laugh that brought butterflies to your stomach every time.

Turns out, the villain of your story wasn’t unrequited love, it wasn’t Umbridge or even Voldemort. It was something even more cruel and insufferable. Death is not something humans really understand, even the most powerful witches and wizards cannot deny that death will come upon you, it is inevitable. There is so much about death we do not understand. All we know is one minute they’re here, the next they’re gone. But you might say, this is a fairy tale, there’s bound to be a happy solution and our lovers will get their happy ending. No, this is reality and our lovers were not that lucky, and the loss of half a heart is not something to be taken lightly.

“No.”

When Fred’s body was retrieved, you were joined by the rest of the Weasley family in their grieving, and while you could never understand what it would be like to lose a brother and a son, you’d lost the man you were going to spend the rest of your days with, and that left a hole in your heart never to be repaired, never to heal.

To lose a lover, but to hold their lifeless body in your arms is a surreal feeling you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, it’s something that has the power to break even the strongest people and make the most positive lose hope. Every ounce of love in your being spilt through tears that held every wish and hope you’ve ever had. That day you lost your feeling of freedom, and a sick sense of being trapped plagued your every move.

This isn’t how the story was supposed to end.

“What happened to their ‘happily ever after?” A young girl asks her father.

“Well young y/n, as you may know you were named after the very girl who fell in love with my brother and lost everything. Some say she died of a broken heart, others say Freddie came back and took her away to paradise.” An older George Weasley smiles down at his young daughter, snuggled in blankets, clutching a picture frame in her small hands.

“But why couldn’t uncle Fred come back? I thought every fairy tale ends with a happily ever after, those were aunt y/n’s favourite stories right?” Young y/n’s brown eyes flash in confusion and hurt as she lowers the photo of you to her lap.

“Yes, they were her favourite. There was no doubt her and Fred had a love greater than any fairy tale, but not all love stories get a ‘happily ever after.’ Sometimes it’s just a ‘once upon a time.”

[let-them-read-fics]

Die For You

Requested by Anon: “hi :) can I request Jennie scenario based on The Weeknd’s song ‘Die For You’? I also wanted to say I really love your works, they’re really good”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,705

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Near-Death Experience, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you anon! My schedule is getting busy again, so writings may take a bit longer to get posted; I apologize for the delay with this one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Let me know what you guys think!

PS ~ This is my first time writing a song request, so I kind of just went with it lol. It’s a little messy, but I think it has charm. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jennie Kim has a magnetic pull to her -- one that is relentless and unwavering once it takes control of you. It’s hypnotic in every way; sweet torture in its truest form; and you’re always left to pick up the pieces.

The arrangement that you share with Jennie has been clear from the get-go: friends with benefits, no strings attached. Neither of you have time for anything serious, and this seemed like a win-win: always having someone to come home to when you happened to be in the same area at the same time? Hell yeah. 

You hate that you want me

Hate it when you cry

You're scared to be lonely

'Specially in the night

Gradually, though, things got messy -- lines became blurred as feelings mixed into the equation. You did everything in your power to make them go away, reminding yourself time and time again of the agreement you had. But in moments like these, as you lay in bed with Jennie, her head resting on your chest as your hand runs through her hair, you can’t help how your heart swells. Pale moonlight traces patterns on the floor, wiggling its way into the room to offer a soft glow and ambiance. In here, you’re untouchable: no cameras or prying eyes; it’s just you and Jennie, free to be yourselves. Given this fact, you’ve grown to have a love-hate relationship with these four walls; they’re your haven -- your refuge -- but they serve as a brutal reminder of just how limited your relationship with Jennie is.

Nothing is certain: weeks turn into months -- especially when she’s on tour or otherwise occupied with her busy schedule -- and you’re left to your own devices, waiting on her return. Each day without her brings you closer to believing that you’re strong enough to move onto something better -- something more consistent; but then there she is, knocking on your door again, completely pushing that absurd idea from your mind. One smile from her is enough to reel you back in, and it only makes you feel more conflicted. 

Jennie stirs in her sleep, nuzzling her face closer into you as she brings a hand up to rest against your collarbone. Her body twitches lightly, lips pursing and pouting against your neck, and you wonder what she’s dreaming about. She doesn’t seem to be distressed in any way, so you take the opportunity to get a good look at her. Within the next couple hours the alarm would be blaring that sound that you despise more than anything else in this world, signalling for her to get ready and head off to the airport to leave you all over again. Despite the circumstances, you're comforted by the fact that she always makes sure to set it for the very last second, barely giving herself enough time to catch her flight -- she wants to spend every moment possible with you, and she makes it a point to do just that. Tearful goodbyes in the back of your car would be too involved for your “relationship”, so you always try to seem unaffected (or, at least, as close to that as you can manage). You save your tears for when you arrive back home, where you spend the evening coming to terms with her absence. She would never tell you, of course, but her flights are known to bear witness to plenty of sadness for her as well; with each new mile added to the distance between the two of you, her heart breaks a little more.

~~~~~~~

It’s been 4 months since you last saw Jennie. The time apart had offered you a new perspective, something in the long nights without her affirming what you already knew to be true -- you weren’t capable of continuing on like this much longer. Nothing about your situation was ever simple; the instant you began catching feelings, it all became muddled. The one rule set -- the only principle you were tasked with following -- had been broken, and there was nothing you could do to repair it. 

A knock at your door echoes out across the empty apartment, and you quickly put down the food that you had been preparing. With a swift adjustment of the dial, you set the burner to simmer and make your way to the door. None of your friends had mentioned that they were coming by, so you’re genuinely clueless as to who it could be. 

“Jennie?” Surprise is inadequate in describing the feeling that courses through you upon meeting that familiar gaze. The metal of the knob is cool in your hand as you grip it, knuckles turning white while your emotions run wild. She had failed to let you know that she was coming back to town, neglecting even to text you recently.  

“Miss me?” How are you to answer that? Part of you wants to blurt out your thoughts, effectively ripping the metaphorical band aid right off, but another part of you wants to deny her: the past few months had allowed your feelings to become somewhat dormant as you attempted to see a future beyond this arrangement, one void of her presence. It’s completely normal to feel like that, you tell yourself. It’s strange, but as in love with her as you are, you’re almost as equally indifferent about it all. How many more times could you watch her walk away, only to string you along until she came waltzing right back in? 

The more important question of the matter is apparent: how would you even begin to tell her what you’re feeling? In the past, you’ve tried to make her aware of what you’re going through, only to be met by a change of topic. She always stayed reserved, opting to spend your time together talking about anything other than that.

Deciding that you were taking far too long to respond to her, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her. The time away from you had affected her more than she’s willing to admit, and she’s more than ready to embrace you. Her arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body flush up against hers, and she sighs at the feeling. “I’ve missed holding you, Y/N.” The sweet nothing does it’s job, making your heart flutter as the words register in your mind. You’re still tense, though, and she doesn’t fail to notice; before long, soft kisses are being trailed across your face -- her attempt at relaxing you. Sometimes you wonder if she knows your body better than you do: it responds to her, just like she knew it would, and you loosen up. 

After what feels like minutes of just standing there, bodies intertwined, her hands make their way to your hips. She leans forward and ghosts her lips over yours, her gloss smudging a bit in the process. A battle is being fought in your mind: should you allow yourself this indulgence? Or is this the time to be strong and finally put your foot down? The choice is made up for you by the way that she slowly backs you up against the wall, along with how her mouth brushes against yours as her warm hands steady you. Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance. 

Her lips move against yours in perfect time, a delicious rhythm being set in the process. It brings to mind the notion that maybe -- just maybe -- the two of you are meant to be. After all, you fit together like a puzzle, being complete in the presence of one another. 

As her fingers play at the band of your shorts, hands roaming further with each needy kiss she presses to your lips, you debate with yourself. Her actions tempt you to cave in and give yourself up to her, but you decide that you can’t go down that road again. At least not until everything gets sorted. Quickly -- as to not give her anymore time to change your mind -- you step back and run a hand through your hair. Hers is messy, lips red and pupils blown wide. She reaches out for you again, but you simply hold your hand up in response.

“I can’t, Jennie.” The words come out as a reluctant declaration, your tone sounding tired.

Her brows furrow, but you continue.

“I can’t keep doing this.” 

“Elaborate.” Her demand is clear, but you miss the effort that it took for her to come off that way. At your words, panic began to course through her; she can’t lose you. 

“Whatever this is,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “I can’t be someone who waits around for you all the time, just keeping your bed warm.” She wants to laugh at that one; it’s almost comical how far you are from the truth. Jennie knows she’s good at hiding her feelings, but she’s shocked that she managed to make you believe something that ridiculous about yourself. You mean the world to her -- she’s just too afraid to admit it.

“Y/N--”

“No, don’t even try to change the subject; I’m sick of it. Please, just listen to me for once.”

A subtle nod from her serves as your cue to continue.

“I never meant for things to get like this, Jennie, believe me. But I can’t pretend anymore: I like you, a lot. And after having you in the ways that I’ve had you…” you pause, allowing your eyes to trail up and down her body as you clench your jaw, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking my place when I’m not around. Do you know how hard that is to deal with?”

Happens every time

I'm scared that I'll miss you

I don't want this feelin'

I can't afford love

She seems stunned, to say the least; she blinks a few times before gathering her thoughts and speaking up. “You’re all I think about, no matter what I’m doing.” For a second, you’re hopeful: your heart beats a little faster at her confession, and you finally believe you’re getting somewhere with her. Sadly, she continues: “But I can’t afford that. I don’t have time for a commitment like that, and we have something good right now. I’ve seen plenty of relationships go bad and end in heartbreak; why should we risk it?”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Sometimes I really start to think that you like me back, but then you’re as guarded as ever, pushing me away again. I never know where I stand with you. So unless you tell me how you honestly feel, you’ll have to take me off your list of fuck buddies.”

Your language catches her off guard, seeing as how it’s unexpected and unlike you. How are you so oblivious? You’re so much more than that to her.

“Fine, Y/N! I’m in deeper than I care to admit. I’ve tried to run from it, but I can’t. You’re the one person I can’t seem to forget, and I can’t stand you because of that. And yeah..” she pauses, a bit exasperated, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t deny that I’ve been with other people when I’m away.” You close your eyes at her admission, that familiar sadness beginning to seep in -- it wasn’t anything you didn’t already know, but that doesn’t make its confirmation any easier to hear. 

“They’re not you, though. They don’t know me like you do… they’re not fun like you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t want to. It terrifies me.”

“That’s kinda part of the deal, Jennie -- it’s a scary thing. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’m willing to try with you. What we have right now is wearing me down, and I don’t deserve it; so either listen to your heart and be with me, or you won’t be seeing me again.”

Following your ultimatum, she doesn’t dare speak. Her brows are slightly furrowed again, jaw set, and she’s looking at the ground. Out of habit, your arms cross against your chest -- being vulnerable is never something you particularly enjoy (especially with so much on the line) but you’re sick of beating around the bush with her. One of the first lessons you ever learned from Jennie is that she avoids her feelings at all costs; so, standing there, you wonder what it would take to make her finally open up. Would your absence be enough? Maybe you were foolish for thinking so.

With every second that passes, silence remaining unbroken by the words that you so desperately want to hear from her, your heart sinks more and more. Every insecurity you have is swirling in your mind, further clouding it. Her lack of a response confirms your fears, and you nod quickly, knowing what you have to do. 

“Okay, I get it. I’m gonna take a walk, but you can stay here and take a shower since you just got in. When I come back, though, I want you gone.”

She doesn’t even raise her head to look at you. Inside, her heart is breaking; every fiber of her being is begging to say something -- anything -- but she stays quiet. It’s hard enough for her to keep her feelings for you in check with the arrangement you have now; if you become official, she won’t know what to do with herself. She’s falling hard, but she’s fighting it all the while -- her lifestyle doesn’t have room for love. You deserve someone who can be with you whenever you want them, not someone who’s always a world away. Calls and texts only go so far, and she knows it wouldn’t be enough for either of you. She’s spent your latest stint apart attempting to come to terms with the idea of life without you; it’s the last thing she wants, but she needs you to move on and find someone better. For you, she’s willing to hurt, so long as it means you’re happy. 

After a beat, she accepts your words, confirming that she heard you by giving a simple nod. Any remaining hope you were clinging to fades away completely, and you’re left feeling empty. Now at the coat rack, you pull your jacket over your shoulders and slip your shoes on. “There’s food on the stove, by the way. Don’t let it burn.” You say over your shoulder, too sad to look at her again. Maybe that’s some sort of symbolism: the wonderful thing you had spent so long creating was fizzling out right in front of you, Jennie being the one who could fix it all. She can step up and repair things, but that doesn’t seem very likely to happen. Tears are brimming in your eyes, and her heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles. 

Even though we're going through it

And it makes you feel alone

With a thud, the apartment door closes, and Jennie finally breaks down. It all hits her in an instant, and soon she’s sliding down to the floor, her tears mimicking her actions as they fall onto her cheeks. Why did this have to be so hard? Seeing the pain etched so plainly into your features was definitely the hardest part to all of this; she’s being cruel to be kind… if only you knew that. 

I try to find reason to pull us apart

It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect

And I know that you're worth it

I can't walk away, oh!

As soon as Jennie had realized her feelings all that time ago, she racked her brain for any and every logical reason to end things. She would pick fights over small things, praying to every higher power that you’d get tired of the stupidity and give up on her. So many other people had in the past, so why wouldn’t you? Knowing that you’re different from all the rest -- perfect for her in every way imaginable -- only scares her more. You lit a fire in her heart the day you met, and it’s only grown stronger ever since. 

~~~~~~~

20 Minutes Later

You have no real destination in mind; you’re content with just allowing your feet to take you wherever they wish to go.

Chatter from across the city makes its way to your ears, oddly offering a sense of comfort in your time of need. The night sky is full of stars, and the city bustles with life and activity. As you pass different businesses and shops, their iridescent lights shine just for you. Distant cars honk as they traverse the streets, and your mind begins to think of all of the different things those people might be doing right now. Surely some are having a great day, maybe on their way home, eager to be greeted by their loved ones. Others might be hurting just like you.

And you won't find no one that's better

'Cause I'm right for you, babe

I think I'm right for you, babe

Jennie fails to realize that all you want is her; you’re not naive -- you know how crazy her schedule is, but you’re more than willing to make sacrifices if it means she’ll be yours. No one makes you feel the way she does, and the thought of spending your life searching for something that can never compare scares you. 

A slight breeze rolls in, ghosting over your skin, and you’re reminded of all the times she would pull you in close to keep you warm. Her sweet perfume would fill your nose as you snuggled into her embrace, sharing the heat that her coat offered. Getting over her would definitely be a bitch.

It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold

But tonight I'm gon' let you know

Let me tell the truth

Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah

The peace -- if you can call it that -- is broken by a shout. “Y/N, wait!” Confused, you spin around on your heel towards the voice. It’s Jennie; she’s sprinting to you, her brown locks bouncing and flowing in the wind with every step. Conflicted, yet again, your feet appear to be rooted in their spot. What does she want now? It seems that every time you get your hopes up, she’s always letting you down. With this in mind, you slowly turn back around and continue your walk. Eventually she’ll catch up to you, but you need the extra time to gather your now-jumbled thoughts. 

Just know that I would die for you

Baby I would die for you, yeah

It all happened in a blur. As you began crossing the street to put more distance between Jennie and yourself, the high pitched sound of tires squealing against the pavement rang out. The car came out of nowhere, barrelling straight towards you with no signs of stopping; they had run a red light. Your eyes locked with the driver’s, both of you donning an equally terrified expression, and you had no time to react. Just as the bumper was about to come into contact with your body, you were instead forcefully shoved out of the way. Another person -- your savior -- comes tumbling with you just in the nick of time, and the driver swerves around you.  

“Are you okay?!” It’s Jennie; her voice is ripe with worry, her thoughts focused solely on your wellbeing. She doesn’t even notice the cut that she received from the fall. You bring your hand up to her forehead to assess the wound.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. But you,” you say, touching her injury and eliciting a pained hiss from her in the process, “...are not.” The two of you are breathing hard as adrenaline courses through your systems; once it has died down a bit, you stand up and check each other for any more sore spots.

“Thank you, Jennie. I don’t know how to repay you for something like that.” 

“I’d do it again a million times, Y/N. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I came to tell you that I love you, and that I’m done running. Seeing you leave really put things into perspective for me.”

“Am I supposed to believe that, or will you change your mind again?” The words are harsh, your voice laced with the bitterness that you still hold onto. You can’t find it in yourself to cushion the blow much; you’re still hurt by what’s happened in the past, and rightfully so. Beyond that, though, you’re trying to be cautious; after hearing her confess like that, you know there’s no going back. 

“Okay, I deserve that one. But I mean what I said. You’re the best thing in my life -- the best I’ve ever had -- and I just want you to be happy. I’ve always been afraid that I can’t give you that if I’m so far away all the time.” 

“Oh, baby,” you start, cupping her cheek and running your thumb across it soothingly. She leans into your touch, and your expression softens. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. You’re everything to me, you know that? We can do this together, so long as you’re willing to try.” 

“I am.” She utters before pulling you in, sealing your new agreement with a kiss. Her lips move against yours gently, taking their time as they attempt to make up for her previous behavior. It’s soft yet urgent, a million different things passing between you without words. 

Suddenly, you pull back, and Jennie panics for a second. 

“Did you turn the burner off?”

“Oh shit!” She exclaims, a look of pure fear gracing her features. 

Just as that cold, prickly feeling of dread begins to spread throughout your body, she grins. 

“Yes, I did.” 

You roll your eyes and huff loudly at her, delivering a rough shove to her shoulder. 

“Don’t do that to me!” 

She responds by pulling you in again, kissing away your frown. “I love you, too, if you didn’t catch that earlier.” You declare, feeling her lips turn up in that beautifully iconic smile of hers. She hums at that, pulling you in closer just as the chilly wind blows again. Huh, maybe the universe had been listening all along.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Albus Dumbledore being an awesome teacher and human being

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

(Imma be honest with y’all, it’s mostly just him being a crackhead.)

He tells stories about Grindelwald, about their marriage and their beliefs and their lives together. All of the stories have lessons - sure, a lot of those lessons are about how NOT to make pasta, but they’re still lessons!

He likes to matchmake students using seating charts and certain magical spell assignments. He’s very good at it. I mean, he’s shit at figuring out who likes each other, but he is great at meddling, so Mcgonogall tells him who to mess with and he does as he’s told. They make a great team (and are invited to a lot of weddings). Couples they’ve helped include but are not limited to: Dean and Seamus, Luna and Ginny, Hermione and Harry and Ron, Sirius and Remus, Peter and Maxwell Needles, Peter and Regulus (that was later), Lily and Severus and James, Fred and Lee plus George and Lee, Charlie and Newt (queerplatonic), Leta and Newt (queerplatonic), Harry and Luna (queerplatonic), and Sirius and James and Remus (queerplatonic). They’ve been very busy.

He and Mcgonogall have teatime almost every day. They talk about their students and work on their matchmaking plans. There’s a lot of sass and deadpanning involved. Sometimes they invite Remus, Sirius, and James. (Not Peter. He doesn’t need the same level of torturing that they do.) Bubbles of all shapes and sizes and colors float around the room the whole time. It’s fantastic.

He accepts gossip in exchange for extra credit. He’s a really good secret keeper too, so a lot of students go for it. (It hasn’t broken any friendships. There’s an understanding among the student population that Dumbledore is like Ms. Potts from that Muggle film Beauty and the Beast - well-meaning and trustworthy, but terribly, terribly bored.)

Everything in his classroom is pink. And glittery. And covered in sequins. Once a student asked him why and he just smirked for a solid minute before whispering, “Lemonade.” (As if that makes any fucking sense.)

He once taught class in a full-fledged glittery ballgown that faded from light pink to deep purple. He did not once acknowledge it or act like anything was out of the ordinary. One student raised their hand and asked timidly, “Professor? Why are you wearing a ballgown?” And his brow furrowed as he frowned, looked down at himself, and muttered, “Thought it was a bathrobe.” (Harry does not let him live this one down. His dad is not much help - Severus took many, many pictures.) (Not that it mattered. On Wednesdays Dumbledore wears pink (glittery ballgowns).)

He speaks to kids who have parents, friends, and relatives in prison, whether for being Death Eaters or otherwise. He chaperones visits to Azkaban for them so they can see their loved ones. He casts protective and invisibility charms on them so only the one they’re visiting can see or hear them, and he teaches them Patronuses (with Remus’ help, of course). He often spends these visits on the other side of Grindelwald’s bars, playing wizard’s chess against him. (Sometimes Grindelwald gives him flowers. It always makes Dumbledore smile. There may be no one left in the world who understands why they love each other, but they don’t need to understand it for it to be true.)

He stands at the front of the classroom and makes funny faces during tests and waits to see how long it takes for a student to look up. His latest record is seven minutes.

When he’s teaching Grindelwald’s history, he makes snarky comments about his husband. They range from “I mean really. Who the fuck thought wizards ruling Muggles was a good idea?” (Rest in peace that one student who thought it was a good idea to say, “You did, Professor.”) to “Honestly, that man has no concept of romance. I ask him for a nice night out and he takes me to a Muggle rally about witchcraft and tries to impress me by playing practical magical jokes on the speaker. A toddler could do that.” (He often gets mushy during those stories though, usually trailing off like “But that time he took me to my childhood home for my birthday was sweet… brought me flowers for Ariana’s grave and everything. Sure, he killed her, but… he has a sweet side…” and from there on out he’s basically a lost cause and you might as well go to your next class because he’s not going to stop humming that fucking Elvis song).

He “loses” his glasses all the time by casting an invisibility charm on them and forces his students to search the classroom for them when they’re on his face the whole time. He thinks it’s funny. Harry does not. (But Severus and Mcgonogall do, and that’s really what matters.) (Severus and Mcgonogall and Dumbledore are  a fantastic trio full of snark and sarcasm and shit, I have just decided.)

He makes little animals out of multi-colored magical dust and they fly around the classroom and perch on his favorite students’ heads. Once a dragon fell asleep on Newt’s head and wouldn’t leave even when class was over. Newt had to wait for the magic to wear off so it would disintegrate. (Of course, he had named it by that point and had a meltdown when it disappeared, so Dumbledore recreates the dragon (Robert) every class and just lets Newt coo at it, even during tests.)

He conjured and charmed two giant (I mean Egypt half-animal half-man guard statue size giant) fluffy pink teddy bears that are alive and stand on either side of him like bodyguards during class. A Slytherin student punched one in the stomach once and it vomited enough M&Ms over their head to completely bury them. The student’s partner, a Ravenclaw student, punched the other one in an ill-advised burst of illogical thought and received the same treatment, but in Skittles. (Luckily their Gryffindor aro-ace friend and nonbinary Hufflepuff friend stayed after class and ate until they could move again. Safe to say no one has dared punch the bears again.) (Though I hear they do give very good hugs. And they eat homework if you ask nicely enough!)

He has a bunch of cloaks that act as portals to realms like Merlin’s Celestiums (S.G.E., Soman Chainani). He gives one to each student for tests, and they are transported to their ideal test-taking environments, complete with whatever song they feel like listening to at any given minute playing all around them. Unsurprisingly, his students have the best grades in all of Hogwarts. (He also has a secret cloak that he uses for himself, to see Grindelwald. Grindelwald has his own matching one so he can always make it home for Thursday date night.) (They have been caught. Of course they have. But no one is going to challenge Dumbledore for his right to see his husband, even if he did marry a murderer.) (Sirius and Remus used to steal the cloak for their own dates. And later on James would steal it to take the two of them on friend-dates. Inspired by that, Dumbledore made a special cloak for Mcgonogall that he gifted her on her fiftieth birthday. The smile she gave him then is his favorite of all time.)

He bickers with Fawkes constantly. This often evolves into full-fledged screaming matches with spastic hand gestures, gratuitous spit, and angry hops on both sides. Once Dumbledore drew wand on his “useless babbling bastard of a bird”. No one has bothered to tell Dumbledore that Fawkes probably can’t understand a word of their arguments. (They do evacuate the classroom when these fights start though. The last time they stayed their hair was gone for a week, and when it grew back it was glittery and pink.) (Harry looked especially fantastic. Sirius thought he looked great. He laughed until he was in tears. Harry was not amused.) (Remus was.)

Sometimes he’s absent from class and Mcgonogall teaches them instead. When asked if he’s alright, Mcgonogall simply answers, “My partner is away on personal business for the day. Now, turn to page -” Soon enough people figured out that “personal business” meant “conjugal visit with Genocidal Maniac Husband™ in prison”. They stopped asking.

He gives all of his students the red button test (without knowing what it does, do you press the red button?). Those who pass get automatic A’s and a lollipop. Those who fail get a talking pet pygmy puff. The thing that usually trips people up is that Dumbledore considers the “correct” answer to be pressing the goddamn button. (Seamus is the only one who has ever passed (enthusiastically too!). Newt half-passed because Niffy the Niffler sat on it.) (Sirius and James would have passed too if they had not been the life partners of one Remus Lupin, whose creativity with threats and extensive curse-word vocabulary rivaled Mcgonogall’s even at the tender age of fifteen.)

He has floating war maps just lying around. He plays battleship with his students on them. What he neglects to tell them is that their moves have actual consequences in the world, as the maps are magical and reflect real battles and places. When Harry finds out (he blew up Denmark, completely unawares) he shows up at Dumbledore’s door soaking wet at five-thirty in the morning with a newspaper, his fists clenched, his face red, and his chest heaving. He wouldn’t stop glaring for weeks. (Alas, Dumbledore’s glorious beard has great resistance to fire spells.) (Following an incident involving the original four Marauders in their third year. Shhh… we do not speak of that.)

He has a habit of walking into random classrooms, gesturing for a student to come with him with his finger, and then taking them to his office for teatime. He usually asks them inane questions about a specific theme (fish, pasta strainers, socks, throw pillows, mooses, etc.) for hours until finally dismissing them. It drives Mcgonogall crazy. (She’s yelled at him plenty for “kidnapping students to ask them questions you know you could easily find on that Muggle infer-het thing! They have exams, Albus -” but he just smiles at her while calmly sipping his tea and she always ends up collapsing in the chair across from him with a sigh, taking the tea from his hands and chugging it before wiping her mouth, slamming it down on the desk, and asking, “So. Fish. What’s up with them?” and Albus just beams.)

He spends half of his class lessons babbling on about how Merlin was gay for Arthur and Arthur was gay for Merlin, but not in long tangents. Just a bunch of random comments without context, warning, or explanation. (He mentions “poetry” a lot and waggles his eyebrows for some reason, so… what’s up with that? (Merlin BBC))

He overshares A LOT about his and Grindelwald’s lives. It’s a problem because 90% of the time it���s something sweet or innocent like “Oh, he brought me a tiger lily that bloomed open to show a gold and ruby ring nestled inside on our first anniversary. That’s how he proposed to me” and “He used to hum while he did the housework, you know? He’d stand in the middle of the house and close his eyes and just hum. Almost entire symphonies too, just waving his wand in the air like a conductor” to “This one time in bed he…” and there is NO warning. The amount of things these poor children’s ears have had to endure… (*shakes head in mock disappointment*)

He often cooks during class using wandless magic. The pots and pans heat themselves and float around in the air. Sometimes Dumbledore dances and then they start dancing too. He whistles and creates a base beat for the sizzling, popping, clanging, and other kitchen noises to follow. This usually happens during tests. Oh joy.

He leaves the windows open when it rains, but somehow nothing ever gets wet. Harry and Hermione have a theory that it’s protection charms. (Really it’s a spell Severus made up when he was drunk because he was angry that umbrellas don’t have enough room under them for three, and he’s always been the most self-sacrificial person in his marriage.)

He regularly makes bets with Mcgonogall about the students’ love lives. Not money, but little things the other doesn’t want to do or buy. Dumbledore usually has to handle the Marauders’ detentions or give up one of his teddy bear guards for Mcgonogall’s experimental enjoyments. Mcgonogall has to do something embarrassing or let him borrow one of her glittery hats. They should really stop making bets at this point; the stakes and the winners are dreadfully predictable. He always wins when the bet is on a student’s sexuality or gender and she always wins when the bet is on who a student will end up with. Nonetheless, the bets continue. So too does their grumbling amusement.

He figured out how to make a broom invisible when he and Grindelwald first fell in love, so they could be showy with each other at their Greater Good rallies. They later used it for dates, prison breaks, and daring escapes complete with kisses under the moon. Once Grindelwald went to Azkaban, Dumbledore used it to find some privacy where he could grieve. Now, he uses it to travel around his classroom and Hogwarts and trick everyone into thinking he can fly by sheer will. Only Mcgonogall knows his secret. (And Severus, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that because he told him when he was black out drunk. So.)

He lets pygmy puffs sleep in his beard. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

He once taught class while teetering on his feet because he had somehow gotten himself tangled in Christmas lights from shoulders to ankles and couldn’t move. (Sirius wandered in and saw this, cried he was laughing so hard, and then warbled his off-key way through as many Christmas carols as he could remember for the rest of class.) (Dumbledore tried to Silencio him but just fell over trying to make the wand movement. He broke his nose. Sirius almost had a panic attack because he couldn’t breathe from how hard he was laughing. By the end of this he had curled up in a fetal position on the floor, Remus was lying down next to him and muttering jokes to him, Mcgonogall was trying to fix Dumbledore’s face, and Severus had taken over the class. Not that they got much done - James was visiting that day. And him, Sirius, and Remus all laughing about the same thing rarely leads to a quiet and calm learning environment.) (They gave him a joint present of rainbow Christmas lights for his birthday - “Happy Gay Day, Professor!” - and he was not amused.) (Grindelwald was though. So was everyone else.)

He tends to mix up holidays in his head and often decorates for the wrong one. He goes all out too. He’s kind of a disaster, and so is his classroom. It became such a problem that the Marauders actually took pity on him and made him a very big calendar with all the holidays marked on it in glitter and fake jewels and flowers. It sits behind his desk and occasionally works.) (Occasionally.)

He’s queerplatonic partners with Mcgonogall. They held a friend-wedding and forced Severus to be the flowergirl. Harry officiated, Remus was Dumbledore’s best man, Sirius was Mcgonogall’s, James wasn’t given a job cause he was crying too much, Lily was in charge of taking care of James, and Peter was the ring bearer (he only lost them TWICE and they were ring pops anyway). Mcgonogall screeches at him a lot and Dumbledore can be depressive and neglectful because he misses Grindelwald but they love each other so it works. (And they’re the prime source of advice for James, Sirius, and Remus regarding their own queerplatonic relationship, for better or for worse.)

He puts his feet up on the desk even though it’s bad for his knees. Mcgonogall told him it’s bad for his knees and he has stubbornly put them up there every class since. (His knees are killing him but he will not give in to “a paranoid, batty old witch who doesn’t know shit about what’s good for me and wouldn’t if she was hit with an Imperio and I told her -” “I’M YOUR FUCKING PARTNER, YOU BLASPHEMOUS ARROGANT BRAT OF AN OLD FART!”)

Instead of walking around his classroom, he struts. (Yes, it worsens his knees.) He does strike poses, he does make obnoxious expressions, and he does look fabulous. WORK! (Yes, that was a Hamilton reference.)

He once taught class without a  face because Mcgonogall cursed him for “fucking up the alphabetical organization of my tea, you old twit. Honestly, Albus, it’s not that hard”. (How did he teach without a mouth, you ask? Easy, he used intermediate BSL (deaf students, plus Azkaban isn’t great on old men’s ears and he and Grindelwald are both gettin’ up there) and Sirius interpreted.) (Incredibly wrongly, crudely, and foul-mouth-ly, but nonetheless he interpreted.)

He has difficulty understanding the straight people in his class. He is fully accepting of everyone and wants the best for all of them, but when it comes to relationship advice, he’s shit.

Excerpt pulled from Pensieve of a conversation he had with a student who identified as female:

Dumbledore: “So your boyfriend is a dick, is what you’re saying?”

Student’s best friend: “Yes. Merlin, he’s such a dick. Would you believe he -”

Dumbledore: *looks at student and points to her best friend* “Why don’t you just date her?”

*cue red faces and sputtering*

(They did not take his advice.)

He wears bowties ALL THE TIME. If he’s not wearing a bowtie, there are bows in his hair and tying the ends of his beard together. Once he wore pigtails. It was great.

He has a habit of bursting into song randomly and performing full-blown Broadway musical numbers (yes, he can rap Guns and Ships at full speed). This usually involves all of the complex moves to be expected in a musical - dramatically climbing up the stairs while looking forlorn, leaping onto the desk and squatting as you launch into a whispered limerick, speedy costume changes - you know, the works. Sometimes Sirius and James back him up, if they’re there. Severus will take over teaching with a bored look on his face (“What are you looking at, Harry?” “Dad, there’s -” “I don’t see anything interesting happening, Harry.” *glares*) while Mcgonogall screeches at Dumbledore to “GET THE FUCK DOWN, YOU NARCISSISTIC HEATHEN!” It’s a problem.

When the Marauders challenge the dress code, Dumbledore is the first Professor to encourage it. While Sirius is perfectly confident in a skirt and Regulus isn’t far behind (neither is Severus, surprisingly), James and Remus are far more insecure. Dumbledore wears a tutu to class one day to show his support, and Remus wouldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. (James just turned bright red and beamed when Sirius started laughing.) He also backed Lily up when she wore pants (along with Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary) by convincing Mcgonogall to wear pantsuits for a week. (Sirius, despite being a hardcore gay, was quite affected by this. Remus did not appreciate the water spit in his face and refused to kiss Sirius for a week.)

He plays Cecily Smith (Will Connolly) on the ukulele on late nights and stares out at the stars thinking of Grindelwald. Sometimes he forgets to turn off the Sonorus from earlier that day and ends up broadcasting his little song to the whole school. Sirius and Remus will dance to it in the common room while James watches his partners with a happy smile on his face (and Peter sleeps, because he’s tired and doesn’t force himself to stay up simply for the purpose of being cool or finishing that one assignment that isn’t due for another two weeks) (I’m sorry, do you feel called out?).

This man has weed brownies stashed away in his desk and he does eat them during class. He also offered one to Remus once, who is the only student that knows about the stash and tends to use marijuana for medical purposes (helping with anxiety and pain regarding the full moon, courtesy of my beautiful girlfriend who has never read nor seen Harry Potter but nonetheless insists to me that Remus Lupin is a stoner who wears red beanies). This prompted Sirius to ask for one, which Dumbledore refused, but then James joined in and they started a riot by standing on their desks and pumping their fists in the air and screaming, “BROWNIES FOR ALL!” while Remus giggled into his hand and was no help at all, so Dumbledore gave them each a brownie just to shut them up. (Sirius wouldn’t stop rambling about how pretty Remus’ eyes were, James was babbling on about unicorns, Severus was hissing at something no one else could see, Regulus was hissing at the same thing for some reason, Peter was crying because he couldn’t tell the difference between hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs, and Lily was muttering pi under her breath until she fell asleep.) (Mcgonogall was unimpressed.) (No teatime for eight weeks. Damn.)

Dumbledore cares about all of his students, however little he shows it. He wants them to lead a better life than he did. And maybe fall in love with better people than he did.

[childrenofthenightt]

heart of gold (chapter three)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse (god sorry), jimmy bein’ a simp :)

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: new oc alert!! this character was based off a little friend of mine... who’s helped me like. immensely. babe ily. also god this one hurt to write i'm sorry guys. hope you enjoy :)

chapters: 1 | 2

masterlist

playlist

------

The waning light of the late afternoon sun filters in through the grand windows, stained glass painting the room a myriad of colours. Polished maple shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with dusty tomes. Comfortable armchairs sit around a side table, the gilded siding gleaming. On its surface sits a dainty teacup, still steaming.

Florence strides through the aisles of the library, trailing a finger along the worn spines. The lady of the house divides her time most often between the beautiful music room and the library, as Allen leaves her to her devices, most of the day. Running a city, he always says, takes a lot of work, dear. She’s not complaining at all, if it puts her at a difference from the barbarian she is lucky enough to call a husband.

Stopping, finally, she pulls a book from the shelf, running her fingers across the letters decorating the cover, fingers catching lightly on the grooves. ‘Wuthering Heights’, the cover reads, and Florence nods, content with her choice. Drifting across the room, she settles comfortably into the plush chairs, reaching a hand out to grasp the handle of the teacup beside her. Soft spice settles over her tongue, and her chest fills with warmth, the steaming beverage warding away the slight chill in the room. Cracking open the cover, her eyes drift over the slightly yellowed pages of the novel.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society…”

The woman recites the words on the page, voice drifting high into the rafters as it flutters past her lips. Florence has always enjoyed reading aloud, as it made her feel as though she was not alone. That someone hears her, and cares to listen to the words that flow from her mouth. Allen hated it, in the beginning. When he had given her the time of day, and cared for her. Promises of forever tumbled from his lips then, instead of the insults and hurt that dripped, like a slow poison, from them now.

Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she continues. An hour passes, then another, and Florence loses herself in the narrative. These characters, brutal and flawed, intrigued her. They enchanted her, and she was unable to put it down.

Until a set of heavy footsteps, thunderous against the polished floors, near the door to the library. She knows exactly who it is, spending as much time as she had training herself to recognize his gait. Shutting her novel with a loud snap, she looks around the room. Everything is in its place; the room is pristine, as always. Smoothing down her dress, a bright yellow with lace at the hem, she waits for the inevitable. The click of the door opening rings through the suffocating silence of the room, and Allen strolls in, perfect image maintained by his coiffed hair and expensive pinstripe suit.

“Florence, my dear. I knew I might find you here.”

“Allen, is there something wrong?” Florence replies, the hands that rest on her lap subtly trembling as she gazes at her husband. He seems to be in a good mood today. Florence only hopes it can stay that way.

“We will be putting on a ball in the coming weeks, to celebrate my proficiency as mayor. Now,” Allen slips closer to his wife, and brings a hand to her chin. Holding her in place, he presses closer, looking directly into her hazel eyes. “I hope I won’t need to reiterate this. Please do try and behave.”

“O-of course, Allen, I will—”

“We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of recent festivities, would we?”

His words make Florence’s blood boil. She sees the world in shades of angry red, and clenches her fists as tight as she can, hiding them from Allen’s view. Her knuckles are painted white with the strain of keeping her composure. A few weeks have passed since Allen rained pain and devastation upon his household, but the wounds both mental and physical are not so easily hidden, swept aside.

Pasting on an agreeable smile, cheeks straining with the effort, she nods her head. Florence knows that if she plays by his rules, she’ll remain unharmed. He’ll finally leave her alone.

“I will be on my best behaviour. Please, do not worry, dear.”

Allen tilts her head up further, to stare right into her eyes. Florence would love nothing more than to deal him the pain that he had dealt to her. To John, and to James. Instead, she raises her hand, laying it across Allen’s, as she gazes earnestly back. Touching him feels horrifyingly wrong, and it's as though fire laps at her palm.

“You will need a gown, no doubt.”

“I was planning to go into town with Ms. Weston. You remember, she—”

“I do not care who accompanies you. I care, darling, that you do not embarrass me,”  The man smiles at her, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, and he presses his lips to her cheek. His scent, sharp and cloying, nauseates her. Allen stands up to his full height, which, admittedly, was not much, and moves for the door. Turning back to look at her once more, he takes her in almost hungrily. “I wonder, Florence, if you still look as lovely unclothed as you do in this dress. Perhaps tonight, we may find out?”

With a sneer and a chuckle, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

Florence’s hands unclench, finally, as subtle pain rips through her palms. Gazing down at the skin of her hand, she sees deep pink crescents. One of them is streaked lightly with blood. She had broken the skin, it seems.

Trembling hands retrieve the book from the table it had been left on, and Florence opens the cover once more. Eyes drifting down to read, she can’t seem to make sense of the words, anymore. Florence is shaken, and she knows that it is precisely what Allen wants.

It is but a game for him; a battle of control. He’s winning.

---------

“You mean to tell me that he… Oh, Florence…”

The chime of nails against delicate china rings through the luxuriously decorated sitting room, as Florence passes a teacup, the steam wafting from the top following the scent of rich spices, to the woman sitting on the plush divan. Her dress, a pastel lavender, meets the floor in a stream of tulle. Dark tresses, pulled back in a small, loose braid, curl as they fall across her shoulders.

“Emma, I have no idea what to do.”

Emma Weston had known Florence longer than she could remember. They had met when they were young, and since then, they’ve been almost inseparable. That is, until Allen came along. Slowly, almost inch by inch, he had pushed Emma out of the picture, further isolating his wife. The women seemed to meet less and less over the years, now coming together a few times a month. Emma was unmarried, and rather educated, which almost seemed to scare the man. A favourite quote of his pops into Florence’s head, then: “Educated women, well, they’ll bring the downfall of humanity.” To the women, of course, it served as a nice bit of comedy.

“My dear friend, I… Is there anything I can do?” Emma lays a hand on Florence’s shoulder, earnest eyes locked on those of her friend. Florence meets her gaze then, and the glassy hazel eyes unnerve the woman. They look defeated. “Florence, we will fix this, somehow.”

“If that is possible…”

Emma shakes her head, eyes blazing with a incendiary anger she must keep hidden from the woman sitting next to her. Florence, naive as she might have been upon entering the relationship, has done nothing to warrant this treatment, this violence. Every mention of the horrors; the atrocities, that have been committed in this house makes the woman’s blood burn in her veins. Emma settles her hand over Florence’s, rubbing calming circles into it. She knows how the other woman ticks, after the years they’ve spent together, and she can see the slight tremors that pass through her. She’s scared. Why wouldn't she be, with a husband like that, Emma thinks.

“Florence,” The sentence almost tumbles out, but she catches herself. Florence has always disliked pity, felt that it was counterproductive and useless. It does nothing to help the situation, so there is no need for it. Emma changes the subject swiftly, a bright smile tilting up the corner of her painted lips. “What else have I missed? Surely you’ve gotten up to much, with your lovely husband gone so often.”

A moment of unusual silence passes, as a blush darkens Florence’s cheeks, pink shades dancing with the freckles that linger on her skin. “Well,” Florence starts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she looks anywhere but at her friend. With a fortifying sigh, she releases the words trapped in her throat. “I’ve… I’ve been writing to a man. An actor, from the theatre we frequent.”

“Oh? How long have the two of you been corresponding? Do tell me more!”

“A month, as of next weekend—”

“A month? Florence, it’s been a whole month, and you didn’t think it right to tell me? I thought we were friends… ”

“Emma,” Florence starts, scrambling to reassure her friend, until she glimpses the smirk that dangles from her lips. A relieved sigh fills the silence that had fallen over the two, and Emma’s giggle lights up the room. “You were joking…”

“Of course I was! Now, tell me more about this mysterious actor. What do you know of him?”

“Well, I do not know his name, unfortunately. This… this is my fault. If he knew who I was; if he knew Allen, he would never give me the time of day. Emma, he is beautiful, of mind, body, and soul.”

“How do you mean?”

“It was his appearance, initially, that attracted me. He was simply irresistible,” Florence’s cheeks flush deep scarlet, as an unconscious smile blossoms across her cheeks. Her hands slash through the air as she recounts her first sighting of the elusive actor. “…James and John, thankfully, had the mind to encourage me to contact him. Emma, he is poetic and charming, yet he isn't haughty in the slightest, like some who share these traits. He’s always been perfectly kind, and charisma drips from every pore. Every letter I receive from him… Goodness, Emma, it has the same effect on me that his performance had.”

“Perhaps you should invite him to the ball.”

It was a simple statement, yet those 8 words ring like sirens in Florence’s head. Her blush deepens, and she stammers out a response, nervous hands smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her gown. With a deep breath, she recovers, and locks eyes with Emma, who hides a smile behind a dainty hand.

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Think about it,” Emma starts, revealing the amused smile that she had tried to hide. Taking in the way Florence’s mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes wider than saucers, Emma continues, a giggle fluttering in the air of the expensive room. “You could slip away from the other patrons, somewhere Allen would never find you, and meet the man that stole your heart.”

Florence remains frozen, as though she were a component of a still-life painting. Her blush-pink lips form an O, and her eyebrows creep close to her hairline. Her hands, the only thing in motion, are a flurry of movement as she fidgets under Emma’s watchful gaze.

“Florence, honestly, is it truly that preposterous of an idea?”

“O-of course it is! Emma,” The woman of the house shakes her head emphatically, mind racing to come up with the perfect excuse as to why this idea, although tempting, was utterly absurd. “Look, if Allen ever… I could never subject this… this angel to that.”

“If you think it’s best not to, then I will stand with you. This is, of course, common knowledge. What I will never do, however, is sit idly by and watch you throw away your happiness, again.”

Silence sits heavy over the two women, the only sound being the light slurping of tea gone cold. Emma, chancing a glance over at her long-time friend, takes in the quiver and shake of her hand. Florence sets the fragile china cup, painted a pale sky blue, on the wooden surface of the table that rests in front of them, and relaxes back into the comfortable settee.

“Is… Is James able to attend? The ball, I mean.” The relative quiet is broken by Emma, voice faltering as she curls into herself. For as long as Florence could remember, Emma has only had eyes for James. Whenever she came to the manor, her eyes would roam the chiseled marble hallways for even a short glimpse of him, and a deep blush seemed to dust her cheeks whenever he was in the room.

“I believe he and John are working that particular night, although… perhaps you could steal him away for some time alone?”

“Florence!”

The peals of laughter that fill the room muffle the hurried footsteps fast approaching, a choked gasp and the sound of falling papers finally making the two women look up. James stands by the door, shoulders hunched as he locks eyes with Emma across the room. A collection of envelopes litter the floor, and James, scrambling to his knees with a squeak, rushes to retrieve them.

A wordless glance passes between the two friends, and Florence nods, a subtle smile lighting up her face. Emma stands, flattening down her dress with clammy hands, walks up to the man, and he looks up at her under his eyelashes, hands stilled by her appearance.

“E-Emma! H-hello, I…”

“James, your face… are you alright?”

The man nods emphatically, almost thrumming with nerves as he replies, “it was nothing, Emma. You need not worry for me.”

Her hand, palm up, rests upon his cheek as she takes in the bruising, subtle now after the days that have passed, that mottles his pale skin. Florence can almost hear the rapid beating of his heart as he gazes up at her from his position on the floor.

“I can't help my worry for you, James,” Clearing her throat awkwardly, Emma shifts her gaze to the tiled floor, her eyes widening when she glances at the stationary strewn across the ground.“May I… or rather… Do you need help?”

The servant gulps audibly, and nods, cheeks an angry scarlet to compliment the fading tones of purple. The woman kneels next to him, and retrieves the fallen letters. Glancing at it briefly, her eyes light up excitedly, as she gazes at James.

“Are these invitations for the ball?”

“They are. I was to go around the town handing them out, just now.”

Two hands brush as they reach for the last envelope, and pull back, as if electricity had struck them upon contact. Florence hides a beaming smile beneath her hand as she watches her friends. They simply cannot look away from each other. James coughs, breaking the tension that had settled over the two, and they scramble back, each holding a portion of the letters. Two piles become one, and Emma steps back, the hand rubbing at her arm betraying the picture of calm she was trying to emulate.

“M-Miss Weston, always a pleasure. How are you?”

“I-I am well, James. And you?”

“Very well. May I say, you look… lovely.” The conversation peters out as their gazes flit to the ground, and Florence, from her perch behind them, can’t help but giggle. The sound propels the servant into action, and he thrusts an envelope into Emma’s hand, backing away as if he was burned by the feel of her hand on his.

“I was supposed to stop at your residence, but since you are already here…”

With that, he turns tail and rushes out of the room, leaving Emma standing, slack-jawed. Slowly, she turns around to meet Florence’s eyes, and the disbelief present on her face is almost comical.

“Perhaps you will be the one to slip away for a moonlit dance in the end, Emma.”

With well wishes, and an earnest promise to find dresses for the ball, Emma departs, stepping into her own carriage. The flush on her cheeks was still visible.

---------

“Of all the times to run out… Just my luck.”

Soft footsteps spatter like rain across the staircase, as Florence mutters to herself. Dashing into her bedroom, she searches every nook and cranny, pulling back with a grunt dripping with frustration. The supply that had sat on the desk against the wall was usurped, and there were no traces of any sheets in the rest of the mansion’s many rooms. Except for one.

Rushing across the hall, Florence stops in front of a pinewood door, intricately carved as most things within the manor happen to be.

Allen’s study, as she’s been told time and time again, was never to be entered, by anyone except the man himself. It’s rarely ever locked, though his intimidation serves as enough of a barrier from entering, until today.

All she needs is paper, after all. About to pen yet another letter to her nameless angel, she lacked the most important element: the paper itself. Where better to find a much-needed slip, than in a study, Florence thinks as she turns the gold-gilded knob. She opens the door only to be greeted with beautiful, wide windows of stained glass, which turn the sunlight into vibrant shades of red and green. Against the wall, a bookshelf stands tall, books of every genre imaginable lining it. Against the far wall, a well-polished mahogany desk, complete with winding embellishments around the edge, sits before an elegant leather armchair.

No paper in sight, of course.

A sigh reverberates off of the maroon walls, as Florence pulls open a drawer, careful to leave things as proper as possible so as to not alert Allen. Shuffling through the first, she finds a variety of legal forms and journals, and her frustration simmers inside of her. Moving on to the second drawer, she tugs on the wood-furnished handle, and her heart shatters.

Sitting prim and proper, face up in the drawer, was a letter addressed to Allen. In a curling script that, distinctly, was not hers, reads: “To my beloved, Allen.” This one note, this blasted letter, lays on a bed of dozens of others, all addressed in the same way, in the same sprawling hand. Florence can feel streams of crystalline tears trickle down the flaming apple of her cheeks, and a violent scream catches in her throat. Her insides burn in rage, in fury, in betrayal, and if not for her grip on the desk, she would have crumpled to the floor. There were no dates printed upon the envelopes, though, judging by the sheer amount, it is safe to say that this had been going on for quite a while. Long before she had laid eyes upon her actor.

Under the pile of deceitful notes, almost mocking her, sat the coveted paper. Ripping it out of the drawer, Florence turns, eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing perfection, she tears out of the room, crossing the hall into her chambers. She sits herself down, defeated, on the chair adjacent to the small desk. Her head falls forward into her palms, resting there until, suddenly, she slams a hand down onto the lacquered tabletop.

Allen Bennett has stolen her livelihood. He has stolen her happiness; stolen everything that he saw worth taking. Greed seeps from every pore, and there are no consequences. Allen Bennett is a foul, demonic man, and Florence must play the role of the angel. The perfect wife. She must act as Allen’s toy, only of use to him when he needs a night of pleasure.

Curling her hands into rigid fists, the woman nods resolutely, and lunges across the desk. Trusty fountain pen in a clenched hand, Florence seizes the newfound sheets, and soon enough, a river of ink flows across the page. Teardrops that trickle down the slope of her nose serve as the signature.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx @sophiazeppelinchick @reincarnated70sbaby @grxtsch @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @thebeatlesuniverse @dreamersdrowse (let me know if you want to be added!)

[mosswillow]

Learning To Love - Steve Rogers x Reader (featuring Texas vibes)

Summary: Life always does this thing where it puts you in situations you swore you were done experiencing. You’re done having relationships, but they may not be done with you.

Warnings: Smut, feelings, angst, interrupted assault  (In relation to this, attacker going unpunished, intimidation, stalker vibes.), mature themes, 18+ adult content, slow burn?

A/N: This is a gift for @joannie95 for the Hoelentine’s Day challenge! I hope you like it. This isn’t a dark fic but it is a little heavy, there’s a healthy dollop of anxiety and feelings throughout with a happy ending.

Thanks to  @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares and @drabblewithfrannybarnes  for putting this whole thing together, it’s such a fun challenge!

By clicking keep reading you confirm you’re over 18. This is mature content, be careful.

Unlovable.

When asked to describe yourself it’s the first word you think of. Your very first boyfriend spent months emotionally abusing you and by the end of the relationship it’s what you truly believed about yourself. Every relationship after has been the same. Your insecurities and inability to trust causing tension that eventually sabotages any chance at making things work; and with each failed relationship your view of yourself becomes more and more loathsome. Self hatred and depreciation surround you in a cloak of misery, convincing you that they’re your friends.  It’s all your fault, you deserve all of it, You’re unlovable.

So you don’t do relationships anymore. You want nothing more than to love and be loved, to hold hands and kiss under the moonlight. You want a partner to share your life with, an emotional connection that transcends yourself, creating a whole new person.

If only you were good enough, worthy enough for love.

But you’re not.

---

“No eating in here Dr. Rogers,” you chide.

Steve looks up at you and gives a smirk.

“How about a little bribe.” He holds up a bag of beaver nuggets. You roll your eyes and look around before sticking your hand in and grabbing a few puffs.

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect all the time,” He teases.

“Don’t you have an office or something?”

“I like it better here, I get to be scolded by a beautiful librarian and don’t have to deal with the other professors.”  

You’ve known Steve for years. He started teaching at the same time you joined the library staff at Rice. He’s genuine and kind. You’ve watched him help countless students outside of office hours. Everyone likes him, including you. You really like him a lot. That’s why you can’t let yourself entertain the possibility of being with him. You can’t lose him. You can’t bear the inevitable conclusion of him looking you in the eyes and telling you he’s done, that you’re too much for him.

“Well you’ll have to pack it up, they’re sending everyone home because of the hurricane.”

“It’s barely even a hurricane, more like a tropical storm,” Steve scoffs.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You close the library down before heading to your car. The wind has already started and the sky darkens by the second. You smell the slight scent of sea air and know it’s close. The humidity, which you forgot could even get this bad, causes you to start sweating profusely and you want to get home and take a shower before the storm starts. You have a pint of blue bell waiting for you at home along with a stack of unread books, a quiet night sounds perfect.

“Hey.”

You whip around and see a familiar face, a grad student who visits the library often. Alex, you remember.

“Sorry, I just closed the library down. You'll have to wait until the school opens.”

He takes a small step forward, close enough that your personal space is violated, while at the same time far enough to where the invasion feels almost accidental.

“I’ve watched you around campus, noticed your schedule.” It’s not an accident.

It’s not unusual for students to flirt with you but this is less flirting and more just creepy.

“Oh, um yeah I work a lot.” you take a step back and he follows.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” He states.

You stare at him and take another step back, hitting your back on your car. You grab onto the handle and he reaches out and grabs your hand.

“Hey don’t be like that. I’m a good guy. I won’t hurt you.”

You pry your hand away..

“One date, say yes.” He says, slowly pushing his body towards you.

“No, I have to go.”  

You press yourself against your car as his body goes rigid.

“You’re such a fucking tease, parading around me for weeks.”

He takes a tiny step back but places his hands against your car, caging you in. You close your eyes and freeze in fear. Your mind screams at you to move but your body just won’t.

He’s suddenly pulled away from you and when you open your eyes the only thing visible is Steve’s back.

“She said no, why don’t you move along and maybe spend some time considering why you feel entitled to women who clearly aren’t interested.”

Alex and Steve stare at each other for a few slow moments before Alex scowls at you and walks away.

“Are you ok?” Steve turns to you.

“I’m fine.” you lie, crossing your arms to avoid shaking.

Steve raises his eyebrows and looks you up and down. You’re not entirely sure how it happens but somehow you end up sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's truck, looking at your apartment building. Rain has started coming down in earnest and you dread running through it.

“Are you going to be ok alone?” Steve asks

“Are you?” You reply.

You look at eachother and your mind clears. His blue eyes stare at you with concern. Steve's hands are still on the steering wheel, clutching on like it might disappear if he lets go. You don’t want to be alone and you can tell that he doesn’t either. You want to feel safe and right now Steve is the only one who makes you feel that way. It would be so easy to invite him in, you know he would say yes.

“You don’t have a car. do you have food? Bottled water? A portable charger?” Steve asks.

“You’re the one that said it’s barely a hurricane.”

Steve sighs and releases his hands from the steering wheel.

“Just call me if you need me.”

You nod and climb out of the truck. The transition from the hot rain to your air conditioned apartment causes you to start shivering and even after you change and cover yourself in a warm blanket you still shake uncontrollably.

---

The storm lasts three days, worse than you were expecting but nothing like Harvey.

Steve shows up at your apartment bright and early a bag of conchas and breakfast tacos in hand. You climb in his truck and buckle your seatbelt. Steve eyes your book bag before backing up.

“You’re not going to work are you?”

“It’s been three days.” you reply.

He looks at you like you’re crazy and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It wasn’t that bad, you got there before anything actually happened,” you say.

He opens his mouth and breathes in before biting his lip and driving you to work without another word.

Steve walks you to your car every day after work. You don’t ask him to, he just does. It’s an unsaid expectation you both have. The first week is awkward, You both say almost nothing to each other. The second week though Steve finally breaks the silence.

“How have you been?”

You shrug.  

“I filed a complaint. He’s barred from the library and promised not to come near me.” you say.

Steve purses his lips.

“Do you feel safe though?”

“No...”

Steve stiffens and you reach out and grasp his shoulder.

“Thank you for walking me to my car.”

“Of course,” Steve closes the door for you and you drive away.

Steve cracked something on your exterior. You had been pushing off the feelings before Steve asked you how you were and now you can’t push them down any longer. You get in the shower and let the warm water wash over you. At first you feel raw and then angry and then for the first time since it happened you cry. It feels silly, to let something so seemingly small affect you so much. It could have been so much worse, it’s not like anything actually happened. Maybe that’s what scares you, not what happened but the implication of what could have. He invaded your space and intimidated you, making you feel small and helpless. If it wasn’t for Steve…

You let yourself fall apart until the water turns cold, then you pick yourself up and wrap yourself in a soft towel.

You look at the woman in your bathroom mirror and see someone who isn’t you. She’s broken and hurting, her eyes swollen from crying. She looks like she’s about to fall over from exhaustion. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She has every right to feel upset and frightened about it. She didn’t deserve to have her safety threatened, nobody deserves that.

You didn’t deserve it.

You go to work the next day and the day after that. Days turn into weeks turn into months and the fear slowly leaches out of you as you reach out for help. The woman in your bathroom mirror deserves therapy and so do you.

Steve is always there. He walks you to your car every day. He starts texting you and you text him back. You go out to dinner with him, an ethiopian place this weekend and a mediteranian food truck the next. You form inside jokes and slowly you find yourself telling Steve little things about yourself.

“Why are you single?” You ask him one day.

“I had a girlfriend, she’s not with us anymore. After she… I guess I just… I wasn’t in a place for a long time to date anyone, I cringe now at some of the things I did while dating after she passed.”

He leans back and gives you a little smile.

“I’ll know when it’s the right time to jump back in - when it’s the right person.”

You open up about your past and he listens. He tells you about growing up as the smallest kid in his class, how he was bullied and how suddenly people started treating him differently when he hit a late growth spurt. You feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt with anyone.

---

Steve walks you to your car. Tomorrow is your off day and you stop to thank him and remind him you aren’t working the next few days. He’s looking at you and shifts on his feet, you furrow your brows in concern.

“It’s Valentine's day tomorrow.” He blurts out.

You take a step towards your car, knowing where this is going and not wanting it to go any further.

Steve is the one who holds you together, his friendship helping you in so many ways. He holds power over you though, power to throw you aside and break you apart. You can’t be cast away, not again.

“If you don’t have plans maybe I can make you something for dinner at my place?”

You turn away and grab your door handle.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Oh of course, yeah that’s fine.”

You watch Steve bring his hand up to his forehead in the rearview mirror as you drive away.

That evening you write the text, it’s cowardly but you don’t think you can face him.

I don’t need you to walk me to my car anymore. Thank you for your help but I think our relationship should be professional from here on out.

What? No, we’re friends. Are you ok?

You turn your phone off and take a sleeping pill only to be woken in the middle of the night by pounding on your door.

Steve stands in your doorway. His eyes are red and his hair is messy. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

Steve stares at you and you look away.

“What is this about?”

“What is what about?”

“We’re friends. I’m not going to stop being your friend just because you don’t want a relationship. I know this isn’t one sided, that you feel the same way about me. Why are you trying to push me away?”

You cross your arms and look down and he leans over, putting himself in your line of sight.

“If I let you in I’ll get hurt,” you confess.

“Why do you think that?”

‘I..” You stutter

It’s not one moment. Not any one breakup you’ve been through. It’s not even what happened months ago during the hurricane. It’s everything. It’s self hatred, overthinking and analyzing. It’s all the anxiety and stress of life that compounds into fear. Fear of failing and of loss, of getting hurt and breaking. You feel like the only way to keep yourself up and moving is by pushing him away.

“You’re so scared of being hurt but Y/N, you’re hurting. You’re doing to yourself the very thing you’re so scared of.”

Tears start forming, Steve brings his hand up and wipes one away before pulling you into a hug and letting you cry into his chest.

He shifts his face close to your ear and speaks softly.

“I have fear too, but you know what I’m the most scared of? I’m scared of not being your friend anymore. We don’t have to be in a relationship but please don’t cut me out.”

His voice hitches and his grip tightens.

“I love you, I care about you and always will.”

You pull back and look at him, a tear escapes one of his eyes and he promptly wipes it away.

“I’m scared,” you say.

“I am too.”

Your heart beats rapidly as you look up into Steve's bloodshot eyes and see the pain that you’re feeling mirrored back at you. Steve holds power over you but for the first time you realize that you hold that same power over him. You never thought you would be willing to put yourself in a vulnerable position again but somehow, here you are. You put your hand over your heart and feel the life pump out if it and through your veins.

reaching up tentatively, you bring your hand to his face grabbing his cheek gently. You stand up tall and slide your hand behind his neck, bringing him in and kissing him. Tension releases from both of you as you press your lips together, embracing in a warm hug. You pull away and he brings you in for another kiss, this time pushing you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

It’s a flurry of body parts and heat. You’re ripping off each other's clothing. Steve kisses your neck and you bring your hand to his chest and feel down his abdomen. He groans when you get to his dick and the next thing you know you’re on the bed arching your back as he slams into you. You open your mouth to moan but nothing comes out, Instead your eyes roll to the back of your head as an orgasm washes through you and carries you away.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” He says.

He stills on top of you and then looks down making eye contact before rolling beside you and pulling you into a hug.

“That was...” Steve starts

“Amazing.” you finish.

You pry yourself from Steve and walk to the bathroom to clean up, stopping at the mirror to look at your post sex appearance.

Maybe there’s no way around it. Maybe life will stick you in situations and force you forward against your will. You weren’t trying to let Steve into your life but somehow here he is.

For the first time you don’t don’t feel like this unlovable person. You’re not scared he’s going to leave you or that you’re going to ruin the relationship.

You have a feeling you’ve never truly experienced before and now it all makes sense. Somehow in the last few months you’ve learned to love. You look at yourself in the mirror and see someone worthy.

You’ve spent all your time and energy pushing people away when you should have been building yourself up. You thought that taking care of yourself meant hiding away and putting up a wall.

Self care isn’t a bubble bath or a glass of wine and It’s not something that happens out of fear or anxiety. It’s affording yourself the same kindness and forgiveness that you would give anyone else. It’s looking at yourself in the mirror and recognizing that you deserve to love and to be loved. It’s giving yourself permission to feel however you feel without guilt or shame. It’s love in its purest form and you deserve it.

You are not unlovable.

Steve walks up beside you and kisses your temple.

“When you said you loved me...” you start.

“I meant it.”  He says quickly.

You turn and look at him, biting your lip before saying something you’ve been so scared of for so long. You kiss his cheek and smile.

“I love you.”  

[inkandpen22]

All I Want (2/4)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader 

Warnings: swearing, mild smut 

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Sirius convinces Y/N to take a little risk which leads them to trouble

Masterlist

Sirius

"I need Y/N to go with me," I complain to my friends as we settle around the table in the Great Hall. 

"Why do you need Y/N to go with you?" James questions idiotically. "You could ask Marlene, that girl from potions, what about-" 

"Y/N is the only option," I emphasize, growing annoyed that no one else understands. 

"Since when?" Remus interjects as he flips open his textbook. 

"Since she told me no!" I repeat what I told them last night. 

"Ooh, so this is all to prove a point?" James accuses with a raised brow. 

"No! I genuinely want to go with her!" I justify. 

"She's probably just giving you a hard time, playing hard to get. Give it time," James tries to reason. "Keep up with the compliments and maybe even give her a gift or something!" 

"You could just ask her publicly so she can't say no," Remus suggests uncharacteristically. 

James and I share the same confused expression. 

"What do you mean, Moony?" I frown. 

"Do it here," he clarifies. 

"In front of everyone?" Peter sounds astonished. 

"That's sort of what 'public' means..." Remus sasses. 

I shake my head. "Y/N would hate it. She hates being the center of attention." 

"But it would grab her attention," Remus points out a matter-of-factly. 

"I don't know guys..." I'm hesitant to do something so extreme when she was fine with rejecting me in front of our friends. 

"I think it would be great!" Peter gleams, enthused by the idea. 

"You also thought bringing snacks to the Shrieking Shack last month was a great idea," James reminds him disapprovingly. 

"I forgot I had the cinnamon roll in my pocket okay!" Peter huffs. 

"Hush!" I hiss at the group quietly. "Y/N is coming!" 

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the most beautiful girl approach us, surrounded by Marlene and Evans. Her perfect Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. I've always known that Y/N is beautiful, but lately, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It's weird, foreign to me. 

___________________________

Y/N

"And then I wrote back to my mom and told her no," I tell Lily. "So I think I'll be able to visit you this summer for sure!" 

Lily squeals, gripping my arm with excitement. "You can go on holiday with my family to the lake!" 

When we reach our usual spot with the boys already there, I take my seat beside Sirius. Lily sits on my opposite side, already in deep conversation with Marlene to make plans this summer.  

"Spending the summer with Evans?" Sirius inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"A few weeks at the start," I explain. "Her family is taking a trip and invited me." 

Sirius leans close to me and whispers, "I would pay large sums to see you spending hours laying in the sun." 

I playfully nudge him away with a giggle. Goodness, he's such a painful flirt sometimes. 

"What if after you visit Evans, you and I go on a holiday of our own?" He suggests mischievously as he turns his body toward me. 

"You and me?" I giggle as I pour myself some juice. "I think we wouldn't even make it out of London." 

"Just think about it. You, me, on a beach... We could spend weeks alone in a cottage somewhere," he describes as he leans in close. I can feel his lips brush against my ear as he guides my hair back over my shoulder. "No distractions. Days and days of us doing whatever we want for, wherever we want, as long as we want..." he insinuates. 

Chills course down my spine as Sirius glides his fingers down my back to my waist. I turn my head to the side to meet his jet-black gaze. Mere inches from one another, we stare into each other's eyes longing. Merlin, he's a vision, isn't he? Even though I see every day, it's never enough. 

His lips part as his vision falls to my mouth. "Want to get out of here?" 

I nod frantically and he's already a step ahead of me, rising from the bench. 

"We're gonna... uh... we're gonna go for a walk," he stammers as he takes my hand. 

James chuckles knowingly, "yeah sure." 

"Use protection," Remus instructs casually without even glancing up from his textbook. 

“Remus!” Lily gasps his name in disapproval. 

“A spell, Lil!” He smirks, giving Sirius and know glance. “You never know what’s poking around on these “walks” if you know what I mean...” 

“Oh dear heavens,” Lily grumbles while the remaining Marauders chuckle. 

Sirius eagerly tugs me toward the entrance of the Great Hall. I snicker as I struggle to keep up with his speed-walking. He combs his fingers through his long jet black hair with a childish grin. 

Once we make it out of the Great Hall, Sirius glances back at me and we break out into a race. Hand-in-hand, we run down the corridor, weaving between students to get to the nearest empty room. To my surprise, Sirius skids to a stop and yanks me into the closest alcove. Tucked away is a hidden stairwell by the courtyard. Sirius presses me against the stonewall and brings his lips to mine hungrily. His hands roam my body as they've done so many times before. The way he knows exactly what to do like clockwork amazes me. I want to slip into the sensation and just forget the world, yet I can't. 

"Sirius," I mumble against his lips. 

He hums, not willing to stop. 

"We should stop," I pant. 

I'm speaking these words as they're what my mind is telling me what to say, but my body is telling me to do the opposite. 

"Don't want to," Sirius wittily remarks. 

I giggle, making him smile against my lips. "But we should before anyone sees." 

He breaks away from my lips and starts at my neck. "Let them," he determines. "I don't care." 

Okay, that's hot. His ability to be so carefree and willing motivates me to be the same. Since the moment I met him, Sirius has driven me to break through my boundaries and reach for me. It isn't fair that he's so perfect. Everything about him is irresistible. 

"Don't you want to?" He whispers and the warmth of his breath brushes against my neck. 

My eyes fall shut as my fingers comb through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

"You know I do," I sigh. 

"Then why shouldn't we?" He urges mischievously. 

A can name a hundred reasons, but here the moment I can't think of any. Will it ever stop, the pining for him? He's always in my thoughts. 

"We'd be breaking the rules. If we get caught-" 

"Detection would give more time alone. More time to-" 

"Mr. Black! Ms. Y/L/N!" McGonagall's voice echoes through the corridor. 

"Fuck!" Sirius curses under his breath and parts from me swiftly. 

"I told you!" I hiss quietly. 

The sound of her heels vastly approaching makes my heart race. We're in such trouble. 

McGonagall appears in the archway leading out to the alcove. She must've seen us through the windows of the courtyard. She wears a disappointed and bewildered expression. 

"Mr. Black and Ms. Y/L/N, this not the time nor the place for your endeavors!" She puts ever so lightly. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall for supper?" 

"We um...We..." I stammer anxiously, at a loss for words. 

I never get in trouble. I may act rebellious here and there, broken a few rules, but I've never been caught. I've never done anything that requires discipline. 

"It was my idea, Minnie! Entirely my idea," Sirius takes the full blame. 

"Well, I sure hope so as this is entirely unlike you, Ms. Y/L/N!" She looks at me with pure disappointment and I feel the same. 

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" I apologize instantly. 

My heart is in my throat. If my parents hear about this, I'm royally screwed! One, they'll be furious that I've received detention. Two, they don't even know that Sirius and I are... well... whatever we are. 

"Detention after school tomorrow," McGonagall determines. 

"No please!" I try to plead, but McGonagall raises her hand for me to save my breath. 

"Be in my office right after your last class," she declares as she turns back down the hall. 

Sirius follows her without a moment's hesitation. "Professor please! Allow me to take all the blame," he sighs. "It isn't Y/N's fault!" 

I follow behind the pair, praying Sirius can change her mind. They're close and I know McGonagall has a soft for him. 

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'it takes two to tango,' Mr. Black?" McGonagall wittily replies, not giving at all to Sirius's pleading. 

"I'll do both my and Y/N's detentions! Add a third even!" He requests. 

McGonagall releases a deep sigh and as she slows to a halt. I stop a few steps behind as she glances between Sirius and me. Then, she turns to address Sirius directly. 

"I respect your willingness to take the fall for Ms. Y/L/N, it's very noble of you. Yet, my mind is made up," she declares calmly. 

I hide my face in my hands with a deep sigh. This is going to be terrible. My parents are going to kill me! I've made it to seventeen without a single thing on my record and within ten minutes that achievement went down that drain. All for a hot piece of ass too, unbelievable! 

"In light of this being Ms. Y/L/N's first offense-" McGonagall announces, causing me to glance up at her, "-I will not be contacting your parents and it will not go on your record. However, you will use the detection time to think of your actions!" 

A massive height lifts from my chest and Sirius grins. I exhale deeply and approach the pair with relief. Sirius reaches for my hand and I swat it away. Now is not the time! I see a hint of amusement on McGonagall's face at my action. 

"Thank you, Professor! It'll never happen again!" I guarantee her. 

"I sure hope not!" She replies. "Keep in mind there are First Years around!" 

"Yes Ma'am," I nod. 

When Sirius doesn't respond I below him in the side, causing him to wince. 

"Right, right," he agrees absentmindedly, as he doesn't care. "Keep out of sight of children." 

McGonagall huffs, but never the less hurries along down the hall, knowing she'll never reach Sirius. 

"That's not what she meant," I hiss between my teeth quietly as we watch McGonagall walk away.  

Sirius chuckles, "I know. I just like pushing her buttons a little." 

"Well, your pushing almost got me in immense trouble!" I remind Sirius as I turn to start back to the Great Hall. 

His fingers wrap around my wrist and yank me back to him, causing me to land in his chest. I attempt to wiggle out of his hold as he slips his arm around my waist, but then he uses his free hand to grip my chin. He forces me to look him in the eyes as he chuckles. He truly doesn't care that we just got detentions. I guess it's just another notch on the stick for him, huh? 

"Don't fret Y/N, this will be fun," he voices confidently. 

"How can you be so sure?" I grumble. "It's detention." 

"What's life without a little risk?" He winks and brings leans in for a kiss. 

Sirius Black will be the death of me. 

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @agirlwholovescoffee @hyperactiveravenclaw​ @fleurho @rangergranger11

[luvlyrv]

Just Vacation Girlfriends (Seulgi x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Fake dating, fluff

Summary: You and Seulgi enter a precarious fake dating situation, hijinks ensue. Except the hijinks aren't light-hearted, but rather deeply personal and intimate experiences. What are you and Seulgi really?

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi, it has literally been 5 months since I last wrote lol, I'm sorry. It's not like I hate writing it's just that there were other things I could and had to do. I apologize for taking so long to upload again, especially for the amount of feedback I got for my first post! 68 followers and 90 notes! I know it may seem like rookie numbers to some but I really want to thank you all. I'm having my winter break now so I should be able to post a lot during this short period. If I'm lucky I may be able to semi-consistently post during the school year as well ;). Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes/wtf moments I'm writing at 3AM and have slept for two hours total for the past 40 hrs, cut me some slack please.

Date: 12/24/20

The chops of your knife against the cutting board were interrupted by your phone ringing. You stop making dinner as you look over your shoulder to your phone a couple inches away on the counter. Your eyebrow perked up as you read the caller ID, it was Seulgi. Of course, you immediately set your knife down to talk to her.

"Hey Seul, what's up?"

"Hi..." Seulgi began to yawn. "I just wanted to hear your voice today."

You can't help but to let out a small smile as you felt your face getting warmer. Luckily Seulgi wasn't actually there to tease you about it.

"Ah, well, here's my voice. Is it relaxing enough, your majesty?"

You can hear a faint and muffled sound of laughter from Seulgi before you hear her tired voice through the speaker again.

"Hm, well I guess that'll do. I'm actually calling to make sure you wanna come with us on vacation again."

"Of course I do, I've been going with you guys for years. I'll make sure it works with my schedule."

"Yeah, I know that and I'll send you the dates, it's just that..." Seulgi let out a long sigh, "there's some other things you need to know."

"And that would be?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

"What?"

"Please, Y/N. It'll just be for a week. I know it's a lot to ask but I need it."

You're speechless for a bit and deliberate on what to say next. Not wanting to worry your friend with your silence you ended up just saying, "Yeah, uh okay, I can work with that... why though?"

"You know how dating is like. Not a lot of time, not a lot of privacy. My parents understand this but they're still worried you know? They worry about how my future will be like if I'm spending basically over a decade just working. Something about it takes time to find the right man, settling, babies, blah blah blah. If you pretend to date me that'll ease their worries and I won't even have to worry about a scandal since it isn't real and only my parents would know anyways. Besides... we're close enough where we can pull this off convincingly, right?"

You take a second to think. It was a strange situation to be in, but as far as you knew you would only have to pretend for the week you would spend with her family. Her family wouldn't be seeing either of you after then, and maybe you could also fake breakup if things get sticky. With Seulgi's last statement... it was true that you've been really close with her and her entire family since you were both little. All it would take would be amping up the friendly touches and banter.

"Yeah, we are. Alright. I guess we should iron out the details about our fake relationship later though. You kind of sound like shit. Rest up if you can."

"Talk to you soon, Y/N."

With that, Seulgi ended the call and you were left with dinner still unprepared and a lot on your mind.

* *

The plan was to go to the airport and fly out to the island with Seulgi, where you could rehearse your story until you would meet up with the rest of her family and go about the vacation as normal. Except for the not so minor detail of you having to be Seulgi's girlfriend.

Seulgi sits by the window as you sit next to her. You try to get comfortable, but you really can't. There's a churning mixture of nervousness in your stomach. Even though it was all pretend, it was hard to imagine yourself trying to make it look real. Although you and Seulgi both felt like it would be easy to pull it off convincingly... there was something you couldn't quite place tugging at your heart-strings.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear her sweet voice.

"When did we start dating?"

"Uhm, ah, I know this! It was... er-"

"July 7th."

Seulgi begins to look at you. Her eyes are filled with both a pleading look and a disappointed look. She starts quizzing all the little, and very fake, details of your relationship. You answer them correctly for the most part and Seulgi's mood seemed to improve knowing you weren't completely hopeless. You're starting to get into the swing of things when all of a sudden Seulgi asks something completely unexpected.

"And what's our favorite position in bed?"

You felt your face immediately heat up as your eyes opened wide in shock.

"I- I mean, uh, what?"

"K-kidding of course." Seulgi says this with a smile, yet she seems to shake a little. Maybe she was also surprised with her sudden crude sense of humor. She begins to reach down and grab a small book from her bag. "I think we'll be good for now, just relax until we get there."

You just nod your head in response and slip in your earbuds.

* *

Although it wasn't like you have never spent a vacation with Seulgi, things felt weird.

First was the way her family treated you, especially her parents. The both of you walked into the beach house hand in hand. Her parents were completely unbothered. Later that day when eating dinner, Seulgi decided it was time to announce your relationship. As the conversation at the dinner table seemed to finally be dying down, she set down her fork and began to talk.

"Guys, listen up, I've been holding onto this news for some time now, but I really wanted to do it when everyone could see each other. What I've been wanting to say is... " It seemed to you, that maybe just for a little moment, Seulgi was trying to steel her nerves.

"Y/N and I are dating."

Silence. The two of you were met with utter silence. It wasn't the type of condemning and judging silence, but rather one of indifference. Everyone seemed completely unbothered with this news. The silence was thankfully quickly broken by Seulgi's mom.

"Well, I'm glad you guys have finally sorted your feelings. I'm sure you're both very happy now." Her mom said it with a small but warm smile. Everyone else seemed to nod in agreement. You couldn't help but to ask, "No big congratulations? What about the fact that we're both girls? "

Seulgi's brother laughed a little before talking.

"I mean... sorry. We can act a bit more excited if that's what you want. It really is something to be celebratory about... it's just that you don't usually clap for a fish when it swims, right? You know what I mean? It's just all a bit... expected and natural. As for the 'we're both girls' I don't care, and everyone else probably doesn't either."

To say the least, that was not the reaction that you and Seulgi expected. After dinner the two of you were stuck trying to think about what it all meant. You guys were also both stuck with the fact that you'd share one room and one bed for the rest of the week.

Again, it wasn't like you haven't done things like share a bed with Seulgi before. It was just that the relationship business was getting stuck in your head. Everything normal suddenly felt dangerous. Things like even looking in Seulgi's way felt like it took caution. That night, it was decided that there would be a pillow barrier between the two of you.

By the third night the pillows were all on the floor as the you hung onto each other for warmth, finding comfort in the contours of the other's body.

Things like this kept on happening. You would set up arbitrary rules to feel normal again and destroy them all within a blink of an eye. You just kept on acting on things without intending to.

For example, the other day Seulgi woke up early to cook breakfast. You couldn't help but to feel the absence of her body and warmth and followed her out to the kitchen soon after. Even though you were in a half-asleep state your feet found their way behind Seulgi and your arms snaked around her waist.

You burrowed your face into the crook of her neck. Taking in that familiar and oh-so-comforting scent that is Kang Seulgi. Since when did her scent make you feel at home? Since when did you feel so at ease with her? You had a sneaking suspicion that it has been this way for a very, very long time.

These thoughts didn't matter though, as your body began to move with hers to the soft music she had playing from her phone. She didn't try to resist your touch at all. Instead, it seemed that she melted under your touch, with you seeing her shoulders dropping and feeling her backing in further to your embrace. Before you knew it the serene moment ended when Seulgi finally finished cooking breakfast.

You would frequently hold hands whenever the family was around, yet even though you could spend your free time wherever with whoever, you were attached to Seulgi's hip and she to yours. You two would always end up doing something together, or perhaps you would do nothing, and instead just enjoyed the fact that the other was there while quietly still holding hands.

Holding her hand quickly became your best comfort. Her soft and warm hands seemed to fit perfectly with yours, fitting together just the way you'd want them to. Something about her hands electrified you every time.

The once seemingly distinct line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings began to get blurrier and blurrier with each passing second. This doubt and confusion culminated when going on one of the last outings planned for the vacation.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, during the outing a spontaneous couple's event was hosted. Your mouth began to dry up as the host looked at you and Seulgi, urging each other to kiss.

As far as everyone else knew, you've been dating for a decent amount of time now. Enough of an amount of time for them to assume you had kissed already. You looked into Seulgi's eyes in distress. You could feel the host boring his eyes into you. You could feel practically everyone's eyes staring in anticipation.

Seulgi drew her body closer and that was when you knew your fate was sealed.

* *

A couple hours later and you're back at the house now. Laying in the bed you've shared for the past few nights you finally look at her. She looks back at you with waiting eyes. Slowly you reach your hand up from under the blankets and softly laid it on her soft cheek. She responds by placing hers on top of yours.

Staring at the deep brown of her eyes, you take it all in. You feel heat radiating from her body. You watch her body rise and fall with a mix of a calm yet eager breath. The close proximity that the two of you share is something that was typical, yet so different in the moment. With bated breath you finally say the unspoken words. The words that should've been said long ago. The air and sound barely passes through your lips.

"I love you."

The two of you close in, giving the lightest kiss in the world. There was barely any pressure but you could feel her lips touching yours. Even though you've kissed already, this one meant so much more. Even if this was such a small and innocent kiss, it was the shyness of it all, the realization that it means something that made your heartbeat race.

Putting your foreheads together, Seulgi said with a quiet voice.

"It's been like this since forever, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Let's keep it that way."

In the back of your head you wonder, was this to please her parents or was this to please her?